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Another commission by @Zenkopan! This one stars Chie, Yukiko, and Rise from Persona 4! I hope you all enjoy!
The Girls' Revenge
“Okay, Yosuke is so dead!” Chie yelled, clenching the mop she was using to clean up one of the many aisles of Junes. It earned her a few strange looks from various shoppers, but Chie ignored them as she continued to angrily mop the floor.
That day had started out like any other. Yu had called them up and asked them to come to the food court at Junes, as per usual. Chie figured it would have something to do with the murders, or the Midnight Channel, or at least something to do with the investigation, but it turned out to be something much more mundane.
“Hey guys,” Yosuke had said, grinning with his hands in his pockets, “Thank goodness you’re here. Listen, I really need a favor.”
“A favor?” Yukiko had asked, “Did something happen?”
“And why are you in your uniform?” Chie asked, crossing her arms. She knew Yosuke well enough to know where this was going.
“More importantly, why are you in a uniform, senpai?” Rise asked. Less a uniform and more a branded apron, but sure enough, Yu was also dressed like a Junes employee. To the left of him was Kanji, crossing his arms wordlessly, also clad in a Junes uniform.
Yu scratched the back of his head and turned to Yosuke, silently throwing him under the bus. Yosuke, already feeling the suspicious eyes of the girls on him, took a step back before explaining, “Well, you see, today’s the day of a really big holiday sale, and I told my dad I’d help get enough employees in, because we’re expecting it to be one of the busiest days of the year. But half the people who were supposed to show called out today. If no one shows up, I’ll be in a real pinch!”
“And so you called us so we could fill in for you? That’s ridiculous!” Chie yelled angrily.
“Y-you’ll get paid!” Yosuke defended, as though that were the issue here.
“I can’t believe you called us here just to ask us to work,” Yukiko frowned, “I was going to help out at the inn today, but I thought it was something important, so I came down anyway.”
The one-two punch of anger from Chie and guilt from Yukiko backed Yosuke into a corner. He turned to the two other boys, “Hey, help me out here guys!”
“What do you want me to say about it?” Kanji asked, glaring at Yosuke, “You didn’t tell us nothin’ before calling us out either!”
“Hey, Partner, help a brother out here?” Yosuke looked over at Yu, hoping he would give a better answer.
“I think we should help him,” Yu stated, strongly and authoritatively, like he was saying it as their leader. Yosuke let out a sigh of relief, but then Yu placed a hand on his shoulder, “But, you’re going to owe us all big time after this. And not just something from the Junes food court this time.”
Yosuke gulped, his eyes subconsciously glancing back to where he kept his wallet. Still, backed into a corner and accosted on all sides, he had no choice but to acquiesce.
“F-fine, if you guys help me out here today, tomorrow we can all go somewhere fancy, my treat.”
“Deal, but you better get me a real steak this time!” Chie demanded.
“You do owe me that fried tofu from earlier, too!”
“Right, right! Now come on! Follow me to the back. You can put on the aprons over your regular clothes.”
And so, Chie, Yukiko, and Rise found themselves in various corners of the store, helping out with different things. Yukiko was up at the cash registers. She had experience in customer service from helping out at the inn, and she was dexterous but gentle enough to properly handle the various items that came her way. Rise was off stocking shelves, not wanting to take the registers out of fear that someone would eventually recognize her, even in her normal clothes. She was also familiar with some of the brand products due to having promoted them herself as part of various deals and contracts as an idol. That left Chie on janitorial duty, at least for now. Currently she was mopping up in an area towards the back of the store that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in weeks. Shoe stains and grime were practically caked into the tiled floor, and it would take more than one or two passes of the mop to make things look presentable.
Chie’s enthusiasm for steak had replaced much of her frustration, at least at the start. However, the longer she worked, the more it started to set in that she’d literally been roped into a day’s worth of work unfairly. This was supposed to have been her day off, and she had planned on taking the opportunity to train, but now she was stuck mopping filthy floors and cleaning a store she didn’t even properly work for.
“I still can’t believe I agreed to this!” Chie grumbled to herself, listening to the water slosh around in the bucket as she dipped the mop back into the now-filthy water. She glanced down and sighed, realizing the water needed to be changed. Stopping and making sure the wet floor signs hadn’t fallen over despite their cheap, flimsy construction, Chie hoisted the bucket up and headed back to the janitor’s station.
She dumped the filthy water into the large sink and turned on one of the many faucets, refilling the bucket. She also took care to mix in some of the sanitation fluid like Yosuke had instructed, though she didn’t bother to properly measure. The strong scent of commercial cleaner stung her nose and she sighed again, turning off the water now that the bucket was full.
As she walked back to where she was cleaning before, hearing the water slosh and splash around in the bucket, she realized that she had to go to the bathroom. It was nothing too urgent, at least not yet, but she tried to remember back to when Yosuke said they had lunch break. She couldn’t remember if he said in two or three hours, but that had to have been at least an hour ago. She glanced at her phone to check the time and sighed. It had only been a half hour.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Chie once again spoke to herself, startling one of the customers behind her. She offered a half-hearted apology, and then returned to mopping the floor. Her filling bladder nagged at the back of her mind, but she figured she’d just wait until lunch break. She didn’t think Yosuke would have the nerve to nag her about not working after roping them all into this mess, but she wasn’t about to find out.
While Chie was complaining to herself about Yosuke, Yukiko had actually gotten into quite a rhythm with the customers. It wasn’t fun for her, per se, but given that she was used to handling things at the Inn, she was well accustomed to the small talk, minor issues, and complaints that could come up from customer service. With practiced poise and deft hands, Yukiko rang up each item, bagged them, and then handled any necessary money transactions.
It was a bit busy, though, and while she was perfectly capable of handling customers, the registers and money machines were a bit different. Yukiko had no experience as a cashier, and so even though she was handling everything as smoothly as one could expect from a novice, her line was constantly full, backed up from her somewhat slow transaction speed.
That wasn’t the only thing growing full, however, and she found herself shuffling her legs slightly as her bladder sent signals of its fullness up through her abdomen. In truth, when Yukiko had showed up to the food court, she already needed to pee somewhat. However, in all the excitement that followed, as well as her getting whisked off to change into the Junes apron and Yosuke showing her the ropes of the register, she had all but forgotten her need.
Now, however, it was back, and her need was much greater than before. However, she was just getting the hang of the checkout process and was starting to pick up speed. Moreover, she was the one going much slower than everyone else. She glanced over at the cashiers next to her station. To her right was a girl with short, wavy brown hair that she was pretty sure she recognized from Yasogami, who Yosuke had introduced as Kaede. To her left, stood a woman in her mid 20’s with dark hair, who was apparently named Miname. Both of them were moving much faster than her, and were just as swamped with customers. She wouldn’t feel right asking to use the restroom until break.
Yukiko squeezed her thighs together and looked down at the clock on the register’s screen. Their break was in another two and a half hours. Yukiko took a brief pause as one customer left and another stepped up to discreetly rub her abdomen, trying to gauge just how full she was.
I have to go, but it’s not that bad yet… I should be able to make it to break.
Yukiko’s confidence wasn’t unfounded. Due to her time helping out with her family’s inn, she would often spend hours running around serving guests in a kimono. It was often a complicated affair to go to the bathroom without untying the sash, so she would often forgo using the restroom entirely, even if she needed to go. This tendency often led to many mad dashes to the toilet at the end of the day, but it also meant she was used to holding it.
With one final shuffle of her legs, Yukiko pushed her need to the back of her mind and continued working. Now that she was getting the hang of it, she didn’t want to fall behind because she was distracted with needing to pee.
Over on the other end of the store, Rise was dutifully stocking shelves. She wasn’t happy about having to work, exactly, but it was a far cry from her idol job, and a lot more exciting than her usual day of helping out at the tofu shop. She was a little disappointed that she wouldn’t be spending any time with Yu, but they’d see each other on break and there was always tomorrow to make up for it, since Yosuke was generously treating them for all their hard work.
“Excuse me, miss, could you please tell me where I can find the electronics section?”
Rise looked up from her shelf stocking to see a middle-aged gentleman approaching her.
“Of course! It’s right back over there, along the back wall. Do you need me to show you the way?”
“Oh no, that’s quite alright, thank you very much!”
“Certainly, my pleasure!”
The man left and Rise let out a small sigh. She wasn’t exactly used to customer service, but her time as an idol had definitely helped her acting. If she thought of it like that, she could put on a friendly face and at least do a halfway decent job.
Rise turned back to her sorting, but not a moment later, another customer, a woman in her thirties, came up to her as well. She was dressed professionally, but her actions were anything but. She was shuffling uncomfortably in place, rubbing her legs together with a hand gripping the hem of her dress skirt.
“Excuse me, do you happen to know where the restrooms are?”
Rise looked back up and then turned around, realizing she wasn’t quite sure herself. She knew there were restrooms out in the food court, but she doubted there weren’t any closer in the store.
“O-oh, sorry, I’m new here,” Rise apologized, “Hang on a second…”
Rise first glanced towards the front of the store, scanning overhead and across the aisles for the bathrooms. She then turned and looked to the back of the store before seeing a restroom sign off in the back corner of the store.
“Found them, they’re right back there, in the back corner. See that sign?”
“Oh yes, thank you!”
The woman hurriedly shuffled off, hobbling awkwardly. Rise wondered just how desperate that woman had to have been to openly show it in front of a total stranger. She blushed just thinking about it, and then turned back to her task at hand. As she did so, however, she felt a slight twinge in her own bladder. She wouldn’t say she needed to pee, but her bladder was definitely filling up.
When did Yosuke say break was, again?
Rise tried to recall what Yosuke had told her, but she had gotten overwhelmed with all the new information being thrown at her about the job and inventory and how she was supposed to stock the shelves properly, so she wasn’t surprised she hadn’t caught every detail. Rise dismissed her worries and turned her attention back to her job. She didn’t have to go that bad right now anyway.
All three girls continued their tasks, working as the time passed by slowly. Chie eventually managed to finish mopping the particularly dirty back section of the store and moved on to sweeping between the aisles. Luckily for her and her bladder, only one section of the store could be mopped at a time to minimize how much of the floor was wet. Because of this, she was much more easily able to ignore her urges and sweep, running up and down the aisles with a large broom before gathering everything up with a smaller dustpan.
As time went on, however, Chie was finding it harder and harder to simply ignore her bladder. It was filling up steadily and even though she wasn’t sloshing around a bucket of water with her, she still had to pause every once in a while and rub her legs together. Currently she was sweeping up the dust collected from an aisle with the dustpan, sweeping it up while tapping her foot uncomfortably as she bobbed up and down slightly.
I should just go. It’s Yosuke’s fault that I’m here at all in the first place! Why should I have to wait for break just to go?
Chie said that, furrowing her brow in irritation, but as much as she was unhappy with Yosuke, she glanced around at the other workers here. Yosuke wasn’t kidding when he said it would be busy, and everyone else with a Junes apron was working their hardest to serve customers, stock shelves, and even clean. One of the other employees was sweeping the other half of the store, since they were supposed to start on either end and meet in the middle. If Chie slacked off now, even if it was to head to the restroom, it’d mean more work for him.
Chie let out a sigh and continued to work, trying her best to push her full bladder to the back of her mind. Unfortunately, that was much easier said than done. She switched back to the wide broom and began sweeping down the next aisle, making sure no customers were down that way, but halfway down she was hit with a spasm. Her legs buckled and she shuffled her legs together before continuing on, glancing back to make sure no one had seen her display.
It’s not that bad. I can hold it. I’ll finish sweeping up here and the next time I get a chance I’ll ask to use the restroom.
Chie once again pushed her desperation to the back of her mind and continued working.
Back up at the front with Yukiko, the situation wasn’t much better. Her desperation had only grown in the time she’d been holding it, and the customers weren’t letting up either, giving Yukiko very little opportunity to take a quick break and regain her composure. On the plus side she had the hang of the register, and wasn’t as slow as before, but she was still slower than her other, more experienced cashiers, and it seemed like there was an endless stream of customers coming through.
Yukiko just started ringing up one of her customers when another strong spasm struck her bladder. This hadn’t been the first one she’d experienced so far, but this one was bad enough that she was forced to pause and buckle one leg, rubbing her thigh desperately against the other. She quickly returned to tending the customer and sincerely hoped they hadn’t noticed anything. If they had, they didn’t say anything as they merely paid and went about their day.
A strange movement out of her periphery caught Yukiko’s attention and she glanced over at Kaede. She was shuffling her legs back and forth and discretely holding herself with a free hand behind the counter. Visibly, she looked like she had to go much worse than Yukiko. The brown-haired girl glanced around to see if anyone had seen her and her eyes met Yukiko. Yukiko flashed her a sympathetic glance to show she wasn’t judging her and the girl looked away, blushing. Yukiko felt bad for her, but the fact that she wasn’t the only one dealing with a full bladder definitely made her feel a little better.
Not long after, however, another spasm struck Yukiko, and she bit her lip. She avoided the urge to shuffle or grab herself, trying to maintain her poise. She waited until she was between customers, then she slipped her hand down discretely and rubbed her abdomen. Luckily, the wave passed and Yukiko was back under control.
I’ve had to go much worse than this before. I can definitely make it to break. I just need to keep focusing on my job!
While Yukiko was determined to hold it, Rise was much less so. Back by her corner of the store, she was trying to get every opportunity to finish her task so she could ask for a bathroom break. Unfortunately, she still had half a cart of inventory she had been tasked with stocking, and that was only being drawn out by the many customers who kept approaching her to ask her for help.
“Excuse me, do you know where I can find kids’ clothes?”
“Do you have any more cell phones, or is this the whole inventory?”
“You guys don’t have any more of these in the back, do you?”
With a painted smile, Rise helped out each customer who came her way, all the while she could feel her bladder filling up more and more. Rise was also getting progressively more and more worried about the situation. Unlike Yukiko, who was accustomed to holding it for long periods of time, Rise was very careful with her bladder.
During her first live show, a combination of her complicated outfit, her inexperience, and her carelessness led to her performing the last two or three songs on a full bladder. She managed to maintain her composure throughout the entire show, and then the half-hour signing session afterwards, but the second she was out of costume, she bolted to the bathroom and barely made it. Her panties were soaked and she even let out a few leaks on the way, leaving a few puddles on the bathroom floor.
After that close call, Rise had been extremely conscious of her bladder ever since. If she had any kind of photoshoot, interview, or live appearance, she would meticulously monitor her water intake and ensure that her bladder was empty beforehand. Even when she had shows that would have her stuck in a costume for three or four hours, she never found herself in a desperate situation like that again.
That was all to say that Rise was entirely unaccustomed to holding it. Her filling bladder was bothering her. It was uncomfortable and she really had to pee. She kept casting longing glances back towards the restrooms in the back corner of the store, even as she continued stocking shelves. When customers weren’t asking her for help, she was shuffling her legs back and forth, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she fought the urge to openly hold herself.
“Hey, Rise.”
Rise’s heart skipped a beat, she knew that voice anywhere. She forced herself to stop shuffling and turned around. It was Yu, wheeling another inventory cart behind him.
“Hey Senpai!” Rise smiled, trying not to let her desperation show on her face or in her actions, “Are you going to help me with the inventory?”
Yu scratched the back of his head, “No, sorry. Actually, Takahashi-san asked me to bring this out to you. He said he wants you to work on this one next.”
Rise looked at the other full cart and frowned, resisting the urge to shuffle her legs back and forth as she imagined working through not only the items she still had left, but also that one as well. She was going to ask Takahashi, the backroom manager, if she could take a quick break to go to the restroom once she was finished with her first cart, but now she had another one to contend with.
Rise turned back to Yu, who was still looking at her expectantly, and blushed. She really didn’t want to take the other cart, but there was no way she could admit to Yu that she needed to use the restroom.
“O-okay, leave it to me!” Rise replied, bouncing on one foot and flashing Yu a smile.
“I’ll leave it to you, then,” Yu stated flatly, nodding.
He turned and left the aisle, and as soon as Rise was alone, she doubled over and squeezed her thighs together. Her cheerful bounce from earlier had sent a jolt straight through her bladder, and she had barely managed to maintain her composure until Yu left. She shuffled her legs back and forth desperately and fought back against her desperation until the wave subsided.
She let out a sigh and regained her composure, but then looked back to the cart and a half she had left to do, biting her lip.
I need to pick up the pace! I have to get through both of these so I can ask to use the restroom!
Rise began working faster than before, trying to ignore her full bladder as she continued unpacking and stocking inventory from what were now two carts of items.
Of course, Rise wasn’t the only one struggling. With the first section of floor dry, Chie was now back to mopping another section. She had fully intended to head to the restroom as soon as she was done, but almost the second she had finished sweeping, she had been immediately asked to go back to mopping. Because only one section of the floor could be mopped at a time, her putting that off to head to the restroom would’ve slowed things down. Chie didn’t particularly mind the idea of slowing things down intentionally, especially since it was Yosuke’s responsibility to make sure things worked smoothly, but part of her also wanted to do a good job purely out of spite, or to hold it over Yosuke’s head at a later date.
However, almost as soon as Chie decided to start mopping before heading to the bathroom, she regretted it. Filling up the bucket with a full bladder was torture, listening to the rushing water splash around as she stood there, thighs pressed together. She even resorted to holding herself, taking solace in the fact that no one else was at the janitor’s station at the time. Even after she shut off the faucet, the memory of the water in her mind, as well as the sloshing of the full bucket, only reminded her of the pee sloshing around inside her full bladder.
Even with her thighs rubbing together, Chie was struggling. Each wet slosh of the mop as she dunked it back into the bucket sending spasms of desperation through her. She had to stop every few minutes to squeeze her thighs together, and when she was sure no customers or other employees were around, she wouldn’t hesitate to snake her hand between her legs and give herself a quick squeeze.
Chie continued to mop until she felt a strong wave of desperation hit her, and her legs buckled. She leaned against the mop for support with one hand while she buried the other shamelessly between her legs, not even bothering to make sure no one was around. She crossed her legs and drew in a sharp breath, hoping that the desperation would subside.
Once it did, she looked around to see if anyone saw her. Luckily for her, this area of the store was relatively empty, perhaps because of the wet floor signs she had put out. Trying to ignore her desperation, she went back to work. Unfortunately, the only other thing she had to focus on was the mopping, and the water wasn’t doing her full bladder any favors. Trying to get her mind off of both her task and her urge to pee, Chie narrowed in on her anger at Yosuke for something to focus on.
I can’t believe I’m stuck here having to pee all because Yosuke tricked us! Forget just treating us for tomorrow, he’s gonna owe me big time after this! Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him since he got us all started. I wonder what he’s doing right now. I hope he’s swamped with customers! It would serve him right!
Chie looked up and scanned the store for any signs of the aforementioned boy, and finally he saw him. Wearing the full Junes uniform, he was standing next to someone and talking. At first Chie thought he was talking to another employee, but then he realized the other person was Yu. It didn’t seem like he was instructing Yu on a new task, either. In fact, if she didn’t know any better, it looked like they were just chatting. This was all but confirmed to her after Yu said something and Yosuke burst out laughing.
Oh those two! The nerve of them for just chatting it up while I’m over here, working my butt off!
Chie had half a mind to go over there and tell them both off, but her full bladder sent her another spasm, and she pressed her thighs together again. If she went over there now, not only would she still have to come back and mop after this, but she might not be able to hide her desperation from the two of them, especially Yu, who was surprisingly perceptive, at least when he wanted to be.
Damnit! If I didn’t have to pee, I’d go over there and give both of those idiots a piece of my mind!
Seeing those two only fired Chie up more, and now she was determined to finish mopping so she could head to the restroom and come back for them. If she found them still goofing off again, she was going to make them pay. Ignoring her full bladder and the sloshing of the bucket, Chie picked up the pace.
While she was speeding up, however, Yukiko was starting to slow down. Her need to pee was getting worse and worse, and with no signs of the line slowing down anytime soon, she doubted she’d get a chance to go before break. Her confidence that she could hold it that long was wavering, as her bladder sat like a rock in her abdomen. She shuffled uncomfortably in place as she tried to maintain composure, but she was definitely getting desperate, and it was starting to affect her focus.
Yukiko finished up with her current customer and glanced over towards Kaede. As bad as her desperation was, it was clear to anyone that the poor girl next to her was worse off. Unable to stand still, even in front of the customers, Kaede kept squirming and dancing around as she tried to focus on her job. Every once in a while, she would glance around and try to make sure no one was looking before jamming her hands between her legs.
She was currently helping out an older man with a large cart full of stuff from around the department store. Yukiko watched her out of the corner of her eye as she shuffled and wriggled, shifting her weight from foot to foot as beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. Yukiko felt bad for her, but also wished she could be as shameless with her desperation, openly squirming around as she fought back her own flood.
Suddenly, Kaede’s eyes widened and she dropped a coin. When she bent down to pick it up, she rammed both hands between her legs and dug her crotch into her heel, shaking and squirming as her breathing turned ragged. It looked like she had been wracked with a particularly strong wave of desperation.
Yukiko’s bladder responded sympathetically and she was forced to tear her eyes away from Kaede’s plight. Her own bladder sent a strong wave of desperation through her body, and Yukiko was forced to clamp her thighs together tightly as she shuffled in place. She tried to downplay her desperation to hide it from the customer in front of her, but all that did was draw out the wave as it subsided ever so slowly.
“Y-Yukiko!” Kaede gasped in a hushed whisper.
Yukiko looked over and Kaede was once again upright, though she was shuffling urgently and she was keeping a hand grabbing the hem of her uniform’s apron, close to her crotch. Her breathing was labored with the effort of holding it in and strained tears clung to the corners of her eyes.
“I’m really sorry, but can you and Miname cover for me? I’m seriously about to wet myself here!”
Yukiko hesitated. Kaede definitely looked like she was on the verge of making a mess of her cashier station, but Yukiko herself also really needed to pee, and the last thing she wanted was to have to shuffle between two stations while trying to keep her full bladder under control.
Kaede saw Yukiko’s hesitation and her eyes widened, “Please, I really can’t hold it anymore! I have to go right now!”
“Sure thing, we’ll handle it,” Miname smiled, “Just go, sweetie.”
“Thank you, thank you!” Kaede bowed, gasping as she whirled around. She shuffled off towards the back of the store as quickly as possible.
Miname turned to Yukiko and smiled, “It’s okay, I’ll take over for her on my own, since you’re new.”
Yukiko nodded gratefully, “Thank you so much. Please let me know if you need my help.”
Yukiko watched Miname seamlessly juggle between her own station and Kaede’s, and let out a sigh of relief. With Miname offering to cover for Kaede on her own, Yukiko could focus on holding it.
Just then, another strong spasm struck Yukiko, and she was forced to discreetly hold herself behind the counter as she started ringing up her next customer. She was lucky that Miname was too distracted juggling two stations to notice. She was able to freely clamp her hand against her crotch and squirm around, fighting back against her own full bladder.
Rise was struggling quite a bit, too. Time was dragging on painfully slow, and she was finding it harder and harder to to focus on stocking and sorting with her bladder constantly nagging her. Even as she worked, she subconsciously bounced from foot to foot as she scissored her thighs back and forth to try to ease the intense urge to pee.
She had finally managed to sort through all the inventory on the first cart, and had sent it back with one of the other backroom employees, but she was still only just making a dent in her second cart. Worse still, while Rise had been hauling around two separate inventory carts, customers were more reluctant to interrupt her to ask for help, but now that she was back down to one, the customers were back to asking her questions.
“Excuse me, miss, could you point me towards the restrooms?”
“Of course, they’re right back over here,” Rise pointed over towards the wall.
Perhaps it was a cruel irony, but as she was stocking shelves, she had been moving further back, closer and closer to the restrooms. From the aisle she was in, she could hear the faint sound of rushing water as toilets flushed and people washed their hands. Worse still, her brain seemed all the more keen on focusing on those sounds in particular.
As the woman she just helped headed off towards the bathrooms, Rise herself seriously considered just taking a quick moment to slip in and use them herself. She wouldn’t be gone for long, and with the relief she so desperately desired, she could refocus on her task and finish it before anyone knew she had gone at all.
Still, the one thing stopping her was the thought that Yosuke or worse still, Yu, would come by to check up on her and find her missing. Rise didn’t want to seem like she was slacking off, especially after she told Yu she could handle it.
Rise tried to ignore the sounds of the bathroom once more as she returned to her sorting task. As she shifted her attention back to the shelves, another wave of desperation struck her and she was forced to lean forwards, crossing her legs and pressing her thighs together as she drew in a sharp breath. The pressure in her abdomen was mounting as her pent up urine tried to push its way out of her. She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, trying to focus on sorting as she waited for the wave of desperation to subside.
It started to, but just then she heard the sound of the toilet flush again, a faint background noise that should’ve been drowned out by the various customers and the pop music playing over the store. But with her full bladder, her ears honed in on it and the water roared in her mind like a waterfall as her desperation spiked again.
Rise looked around hesitantly to make sure no one was around and hid herself behind the cart before burying both hands between her legs. She shuffled and hopped desperately as she fought back against her desperation.
I can hold it. I can hold it. I can hold it. I can hold it. This is nothing like that one time at my first concert. I can hold it!
Finally, her desperation began to subside, and as soon as she was able to she tore her hands out from between her legs and regained a semblance of composure, going back to her task even as her bladder’s fullness screamed loudly in her mind. She might not have had to go as bad as the day of the concert, but Rise would be lying if she said she didn’t really have to go. Worse still, she had a whole cart of items left to restock. If she was this desperate already, she didn’t want to think about how badly she’d have to go by the end.
Not wanting to think about that, Rise tried to refocus on her task and returned to the cart, resolved to finish quickly so she could finally relieve herself.
Back with Chie, she finally finished mopping, and not a moment too soon. Chie squeezed her thighs together and tried to ignore the bucket of water as she walked back to the janitor’s station. The second she closed the door and looked around to make sure there wasn’t anyone else in here, Chie jammed both hands between her legs, raising one leg and then the other in a desperate dance as she moaned in desperation.
“D-damnit, Okay… just gotta dump out this bucket, and then I can go.”
Chie gave herself one last squeeze before straightening herself up and hoisting the bucket of dirty water up over the sink. She hesitated for a moment before beginning to pour the water down into the drain. As the water sloshed and splashed against the bottom of the sink, Chie let out a gasp and doubled over.
Oh my god! No way no way no way!
Chie was forced to take one hand and ram it against her crotch, crossing her legs tightly together as she doubled over. The sound of the water hit her bladder like a truck, sending wave after wave of intense desperation through her. Chie tried to focus on something else, but all she could think about was peeing. How good it would hike up her skirt, rip off her panties and spats, and pee uncontrollably into the sink as the bucket drained beside her.
Shaking that thought from her mind, Chie tried to regain control, crossing her legs, scissoring her thighs, and squeezing her eyes shut as she clamped down and tried to fight back against the flood inside her. Somehow, she was successful, feeling the wave die down as the bucket fully drained and the intense sound of water subsided.
Chie was left breathing heavily, still holding herself as she placed the bucket back. She didn’t care what anyone said, she was going to the bathroom right now.
Suddenly, however, Chie heard the door to the closet open and she immediately straightened herself up, tearing her hand from her crotch. Thank goodness too, because the person who entered was none other than Yosuke himself.
“Hey, Chie! I saw you finish up the floor out there, good job,” Yosuke grinned.
“Don’t patronize me! Don’t forget I’m only here because you tricked all of us into thinking this was a normal Investigation Team meeting! And I saw you slacking off out there with Yu earlier!”
“S-Slacking off, we weren’t slacking off! I was showing him how to change the sales tags! And didn’t I say I’d make it up to you all earlier?” Yosuke tried to defend himself, holding up his hands and taking a step back from Chie, “A-anyway, I came back here to ask you to clean the bathrooms.”
“Are you kidding, I’m-”
Chie trailed off. If Yosuke was asking her to clean the bathrooms, then that would be her perfect chance to go. She was desperate enough as it was, and the last thing she wanted was to openly admit that to Yosuke and ask him to use the restrooms. But if her next task was the bathrooms, then she could just go before she started cleaning.
“Fine, do you mean the ones in the back?”
“Actually, I was hoping you could clean the ones in the food court. There’s a cleaning cart already set up there, so you don’t need the bucket. Follow me, I’ll show you.”
Chie followed Yosuke to the food court, trying to maintain her composure even as the flood within her sloshed inside her bladder. She could feel it bulging out against her bike shorts, spasming with each step she took. She couldn’t wait for Yosuke to leave her to clean the bathrooms so she could dash to the nearest stall and pee before she began cleaning.
“Here we are.”
Yosuke pointed over to the bathrooms, with one blocked off already with the cleaning cart in front of it. However, the thing Chie wasn’t counting on was which bathroom was blocked off.
“Are you kidding me!?” Chie looked at Yosuke incredulously, “You want me to clean the MEN’s room?”
“It’s not a big deal. There’s not gonna be any dudes there. I clean the girl’s room all the time. In fact, Yu and I are gonna be cleaning the other ladies room in the store after lunch is over.”
“That’s not the point, it’s just-” Chie wanted to argue back, but then her bladder spasmed again, and she was forced to discreetly squeeze her thighs together just to regain a semblance of composure, “Fine, I’ll clean it! But you owe me more than one steak for this!”
“Can you even eat more than one steak-” Yosuke cut himself off at the death glare Chie shot him, “Fine, fine, two steaks. I’ll leave this to you, then.”
Chie dashed into the bathroom hurriedly. She wasn’t happy about it, but even if it was the men’s room, she was desperate enough to not be picky about the details. She shuffled in, dragging the cart behind her. Taking care to block it off again, she turned around and immediately wanted to punch a wall.
It was disgusting. She wasn’t sure how, but there were stagnant puddles of urine underneath every urinal and the stalls practically wreaked. She checked the three stalls, but all of them were absolutely filthy. There was no way she was using this bathroom. Realizing she would have to clean it before she got to go, Chie grit her teeth and grabbed the mop. Denied of her chance to go, she was fuming now more than ever.
Back up at the registers, Yukiko wasn’t faring much better. She was starting to lose composure, and she was worried she was going to have to start resorting to dancing around and holding herself openly like Kaede. Speaking of which, the brown-haired girl had returned, looking brighter and fresher than ever. Yukiko was jealous of her relief.
Even as she dealt with each customer, her bladder continued to nag her. The desperation was coming in faster and faster waves, now, and when a particularly strong one hit, Yukiko was forced to lean forward, letting out a silent gasp as she buried her hand between her legs. She glanced around, red in the face, hoping that neither Kaede nor Miname was watching as she clamped down hard against her crotch and tried to hold on. Her bladder was bulging out visibly, and as she shifted her weight from foot to foot to contain her desperation, she could feel all the pee shifting around inside her. She was reaching the limits of her endurance.
Rise, too, was reaching her limit. Unable to stand still for a second, she hopped from foot to foot and hobbled around, pushing her cart and resting most of her weight on it as she worked through the various inventory she had on. She was nearly done, only a few boxes of products remained, but the closer she was to being done, the more and more the anticipation of relief tortured her.
Rise was stocking up the last of the products in her current aisle when a sharp, intense wave of desperation struck her. She instantly snaked one leg around the other and squeezed them together as she doubled over, grabbing the cart for support. She didn’t want to openly hold herself, but as the wave of pressure moved down her, she gasped and clamped a hand down between her legs. It was too little too late, as a small spurt escaped into her panties.
Rise’s eyes widened and she immediately dropped to the ground, digging her heel into her crotch as she twisted around desperately. She continued to squeeze herself with one hand as she rubbed her swollen bladder with the other, squeezing her eyes shut as she fought to regain control.
No, no no no no! Please. I can hold it. I can hold it. Don’t pee don’t pee don’t pee!
Rise prevented any more leaks and once she was sure the desperation had passed, she stood up, recrossing her legs. She looked around, hoping no one had seen her desperate display, and let out a sigh of relief when she realized the aisle and immediate area was empty.
“Hey, Rise!” someone called out to her. The unexpected shout was almost enough to make her leak again, but luckily she managed both to hold on and to maintain her composure as she turned around and came face to face with Takahashi, her manager for the day.
“Hi, Takahashi-san,” Rise bowed, trying not to wriggle or squirm in front of him.
“It’s time for your break. Good job on getting both carts done today. I’ll take it from here.”
“Okay, thank you, sir!” Rise nodded. She walked as calmly as she could until she was out of sight, and then she bolted straight for the bathroom.
Yosuke had scheduled everyone’s breaks so they would all be able to hang out together, so now that it was Rise’s lunch break, it was also Chie and Yukiko’s. All three girls met outside the restrooms, all squirming and visibly desperate.
“You guys, too?” Chie asked.
“I’ve been holding it for so long!” Yukiko moaned, hands buried between her legs.
“I’m about to wet myself!” Rise admitted openly.
All three dashed in at the same time, eager to finally release the pent up floods inside them. Unfortunately, while there were three stalls there in the bathroom, the stall along the far wall was blocked off, with an “Out of Order” sign taped to it. That left the three bursting girls with two toilets between them.
All three looked around at each other. Chie was hopping from foot to foot, dancing desperately. Yukiko was nearly doubled over with both hands jammed between her legs, her swollen bladder visible even through her clothes and arpon. Rise couldn’t stand still, her legs shaking uncontrollably as she scissored her thighs back and forth. She could still feel the wet spot on her panties where she had leaked earlier.
“S-should we rock-paper-scissors for it?” Yukiko offered.
It was met with silence, and for a good reason. With as desperate as each of them looked, losing most likely meant they wouldn’t make it until a stall freed up.
“Hey, this is all Yosuke’s fault, right?” Chie asked, “Well, I heard that he and Yu were supposed to be cleaning this restroom later.”
“S-so, what are you getting at? Rise asked. She didn’t have time for a discussion. All three of them were on the verge of wetting themselves.
“Well, why don’t we make it fair? If one of us won’t get a stall, why don’t we make it so none of us do? We go here, on the floor, and Yosuke will have to clean it up later! I had to clean up the men’s room earlier, and that thing was totally gross. If guys can make a mess like that, then so can we!”
“T-that’s....!” the other two girls looked at Chie in disbelief.
“I… I can’t do something like that!” Yukiko exclaimed.
“Y-yeah. Besides, you said Senpai is also gonna have to clean up, right? I don’t want him to have to…” Rise trailed off, blushing.
“Come on, you two! You guys are mad about this too, right? I mean, we wouldn’t even be desperate right now if it weren’t for Yosuke. And Yukiko, you had it the hardest! He put you in charge of the registers even though he knew it was going to be busy all day. That’s totally unfair, right?”
Yukiko doubled over as the flood inside of her fought to escape, and she realized it was true. If she hadn’t been so busy, she could’ve slipped off to the bathroom earlier, and Kaede wouldn’t have nearly wet herself either.
“Yeah, you’re right!” Yukiko frowned, brow furrowing as her own anger flared.
“Rise, you in?” Chie turned to Rise.
“N-no, no way! H-hey, if it’s about the number of stalls, why don’t you two go first? I’ll… I’ll hold it!”
Before Chie or Yukiko could protest, Rise rushed out of the bathroom. If they were going to use the stalls, she didn’t want to be in the bathroom when they did. She considered dashing over to the food court to use the bathrooms there, but the wave of desperation that struck her even as she left the bathroom told her she wouldn’t make it.
Rise jammed a hand between her legs and tried to muster up the resolve to hold it until one of the girls came out, but then she saw Yu. She thought about dashing back into the bathroom so he wouldn’t catch her holding herself, but then she noticed that he was walking towards the food court with a girl she recognized from school. It was this spoiled bitch named Ai who would skip class all the time. If she was hanging out with Yu…
Rise shook her head. She didn’t want to think about that. But she was very close to Yu, almost clinging to his arm, and Yu had a bit of a blush on his face.
Seeing red, Rise rushed back into the bathroom, just as Chie and Yukiko were shuffling into the stalls.
“I changed my mind! I don’t care if Senpai has to clean up anything! Besides, I really can’t hold it anymore.”
Chie nodded, “Alright, let’s go, then!”
All three of them hiked up their skirts and tore down their panties, Chie also slipping off her bike shorts. Before she could even bend down, Rise let out a long spurt onto the bathroom floor and she let out a moan. She quickly bent down and began peeing, trying to aim towards the nearby drain.
Yukiko squatted and practically exploded, a powerful torrent shooting out of her as she threw her head back and let out a loud, relieved sigh. Her torrent made a loud spatter as it splashed out onto the tiled floor beneath her. Chie looked over, almost impressed, but she herself needed to start. Rather than squatting down, she spread her pussy lips open and aimed upwards and outwards. An arch of pee shot out of her and splashed, leaving a messy trail in front of her and even on the wall.
“C-Chie, what are you doing?” Rise asked incredulously.
“H-hey, if we’re going to make a mess, we might as well make it count. Come on, you two!”
Chie stopped her stream, quivering in the effort to do so, and then stepped over to aim somewhere else. She was still extremely desperate, however, so her attempts to stop were less than ideal. Droplets landed between her legs, tiny leaks running down her thighs as she tried to hold on until she was repositioned. She then let out another long stream towards one of the stalls.
“Chie, that’s going a bit too far!” Yukiko chided, even as she was letting out a torrential stream onto the floor.
“Your puddle’s making a bigger mess than mine!” Chie pointed out.
Yukiko looked down, and sure enough, the puddle of her urine was spreading out much farther than Chie’s streamlined arcs. The sound had also shifted from a loud splatter to rushing splashes as she continued to pee a river out onto the floor.
“Oh no!” Yukiko gasped. She turned over and looked towards Rise, who was peeing into the drain. She strained and quivered as she tried to clamp shut the floodgates. Despite having been peeing the hardest out of all three of them, somehow she managed.
As she clamped down with her hand, shuffling around desperately, she asked, “Rise, can we switch? I’ve still got a lot left. I don’t want to flood the bathroom!”
“Oh, come on, Yukiko! You’re no fun!” Chie complained. Once again stopping as best as she could and moving to a fresh spot to make more of a mess.
Rise wasn’t sure if she could stop, but given the size of Yukiko’s puddle already and Chie’s intentional spread, they really would flood the bathroom at this rate.
“I’ll try,” Rise nodded. She clenched and her stream trickled to a stop. Her still-full bladder fought against her and tried to get her to keep letting it out, but she managed to shuffle out of the way enough for Yukiko to use the drain.
As soon as she did, another spurt escaped her and she quickly squated again, gasping from the effort of having to stop.
Yukiko nodded, shuffling towards the drain hurriedly, but as she shuffled, a spurt escaped out of her, and another. She tried to clamp her legs shut and keep it all contained, but her tired muscles would not cooperate. On her way to the drain, she managed to leave large, leaking puddles behind. Once she made it, she squatted over it and let out a spray that was so powerful it wound up missing the drain entirely. Panicked, Yukiko re-angled herself so she was just barely hitting the edge of the drain with her torrential stream.
Chie had long since given up on stopping and starting to make a bigger mess, though that was mostly down to her being unable to stop the heavenly sensation of relief washing over her. Her stream’s splashes and sputters echoed through the bathroom as she continued to pee standing up. Rise, having switched with Yukiko, was no longer worried about making a mess on the floor, peeing openly with her head thrown back from the pleasure of the relief. She was the first to finish, her whole body shuddering as her stream tapered off into a few dribbles, and then stopped.
Chie was second to finish, sighing in relief as she tried one last time to spread her mess by angling her stream back and forth as the last of her flood drained out of her. The intense pressure from before had subsided, and now all she could feel was a dull ache and the remnants of the blissful relief throbbing in her abdomen.
Yukiko was the last to finish, her stream going on for much longer than the other two. When the gushing stream finally slowed to a trickle, then tapered off, Yukiko was left panting, blushing madly as she basked in the pure, heavenly sensation of her empty bladder.
“Here, you two. I’ll grab you some toilet paper. I doubt you want to walk through this mess,” Chie pointed out.
She carefully tiptoed her way through her many puddles and grabbed some sheets from one of the stalls. She handed some to Rise, who promptly wiped herself off and let the spent paper fall to the floor and join her puddle. Chie also cleaned herself off, wiping down the streaks that had run down her legs that resulted from her peeing standing up. She too, unabashedly let the crumpled sheets fall and soak up the urine on the floor.
Yukiko finally recovered, standing up and also accepting Chie’s offering of toilet paper. She wiped herself down and then carefully crumbled up her spent sheets, trying to toss them towards the small trash can, unlike the other two. Her efforts were in vain, however, as the ball fell much shorter and managed to land in her first puddle.
The girls looked around and inspected the mess they made, with both Yukiko and Rise feeling bashful and ashamed of what they had agreed upon in their desperation. Chie, however, glanced proudly at the mess, satisfied at the puddles of urine soaking nearly every inch of the floor. She’d probably regret it later, when Yosuke and Yu inevitably find the mess and connect the dots back to her, but for now she was content with her revenge.
The End |
Sue did know now the way how she could turn the new boy on and she did like to do it, because she felt attract to the guy, she did like him.
Most of the boys likes curvy girls, but she was a tomboy with a very slim, but good toned body.
She did not have large breasts, but she had a big and a strong bladder in her flat belly, but nobody did care about that until now.
It was new for her that someone loved her boyish body and her ability to hold her urine back.
Sue wanted to impress the boy, she wanted to make him horny and she did know that she could do that if she would not pee before they went to the bus, if she would hold her swollen bladder for two more hours on the way home.
She was sitting with her legs tight crossed beside the boy, she squeezed her thighs hard with her hand.
The boy looked at her “ you need to pee really, really bad, don’t you?” he asked her.
”Oh yeah, i am needing it so bad, i need to go since before noon, but i did not go i am holding it for you., because i think you like that and your little friend down there, like that too, she whispered in his ear and kissed his cheek.
“Oh yes, i love it and i you are doing it so good. Did you ever try how long you can do endure it not to pee, how long you are able to hold it in?”he asked.
He told her that in two weeks the bus group will make a camping trip at the weekend.
He asked her if she would hold it for him all the trip long, she should pee Saturday morning at home before leaving and then no more until she is at home again at Sunday evening.
That would be absolutely a dream for him, he told her.
“One day, one night and then one more day, i don’t think that i can do that, i can’t imagine that anybody can do that.” she said.
He pleaded so long until she agreed to try it for him.
On the special day sue did get picked up at 7 in the morning. She was sitting beside her new friend and the first he asked her was if had a wee before leaving. He told her that it would be so exciting for him to think that she would not pee until she is back home tomorrow evening, that she would hold all the urine inside her.
He told her that he would be so curious how big her bladder will be, how big her bladder can get and how strong her urge will be if she hold it for so long.. He was so aroused that he only wanted to talk about peeholding and bursting full bladders.
It was strange, he did like sue a lot, he nearly loved her and on the other hand he wanted to torture her, especially her bladder.
He wanted to make her hold her pee until she nearly gets crazy from needing to go so bad.
He would not let her piss although she would be extremely desperate and frantic. He would love to torture her poor bladder, to press and push on it, to make her urge and her need to wee stronger.
She could never need to piss bad enough for him!
Sue stopped him and said that she would not know how long she would be able to hold it and that she don’t think that she can endure it until tomorrow evening, but she will try her best for him, because she know’s how much he like that and she would like him.
“If you love it to see “your “ girl suffer, then i will suffer for you!” she said.
She did take his hand and putted it on her naked, smooth thigh.
He pushed her short skirt up and pressed with one finger the fabric of her little panties deep in her slit.
”I love all your body, your slender legs, your flat belly with your navel, your little pussy, your small breasts, your pretty face and your bladder, especially if it is full to burst. I think i love all of you, i simply love you!” said the boy and leaked her cheek with his wet to tongue.
He did think about that she said “your “ girl. “Is she my girl? “ he asked himself.
Oh yes, she is “my “ girl he thought and he did awaken that he never had before such a perfect girl.
He kissed her long , his tongue was deep in her mouth and his finger deep in her pussy.
“Can’t you two stop that, you have time all night long in your tent. You make us envious.” said one of the boys and smiled.
They went to a wood with a little lake, not very fare from the down. The journey did last not even 2 hours.
After they arriving the boys were building up the tents.
One large for 4 boys, one small for our friend and sue and another small for the new boys friend and his girl.
They did spend a happy afternoon with drinking beer and fishing. For a special reason did Sue did not drink really much.
At the evening they had a bonfire, the girls made something to eat, the boys grilled self caught fishes, they played music and talked until midnight.
Before they went in their tents for to sleep, went the boys to the trees and the girl a few steps in the wood.
Only Sue did not go anywhere, she looked yearning to the girl who walked in the wood, but she went straight to the tent.
Sue did not wee since 17 hours, she would need it so bad, but she promised to suffer her strongest urge to pee for her new friend and she can endure more.
No wee for her before sleeping, she had to hold it how bad it ever will get,
She wanted to be a good girl for her friend, a girl who is ready to suffer for her friend, ready to hold her urine back in her already overfilled bladder although it was already painful, just to make him happy.
They stripped their clothes except their undies. Sue did only wear a little panty on her super slim body.
Just to see her and to know that she did not wee for so long, made him wish to fu…. her at the moment, but he knows that he would have pity with her at the moment he would cum, he would let her wee if she would ask to be allowed.
So he did suffer with her, he from horniness and not being able to fu… her and Sue did suffer from both, not getting fu… and from needing to piss so bad.
”How are you, my pretty girl?” he asked dissembling.
”I need to wee so bad, but i know that you love that so i am your brave, good girl, i hold for you, i suffer for you how you like it, i am your slave!” she answered.
” Oh Sue, you can’t not know how you make me happy, you make me feel like in heaven, i love you and i love your body outside and inside!” the boy whispered in her ear and kissed her.
It was so hard to get sleeping for both and at about 4 in the morning the boy noticed that Sue wanted to get out of the tent.
He took her by her hand, pulled her back and said “ you don’t want to go there where i think that you want to go!? Does my little girl need to wee so bad that she wants to go in the wood? Would “my” girl be so naughty to wee without permission?”
“Please let me go, i need it so bad! I can’t sleep anymore with my bladder so full, or let me do just a little bit, just 10 or 15 seconds and then i stop it and hold it until home.” she begged.
”Oh no, i don’t let you go, you can hold it longer. Your bladder can get bigger, be my strong girl, suffer for me, you can endure more.” he said and laid his body on top of the girls body.
He pressed with all his weight his abdomen against the girls abdomen, he pressed his hard cock against her swollen bladder.
Sue moaned from this extra torture and he moaned from horniness and he had to be careful not to cum.
He told her that he would stay on top of her for the rest of the night, so that he can be sure that she would not get out for a pee during his sleep.
She said that she would piss herself if he don’t stop t press her bladder, she promised that she would not go outside if he just get down from her bothered body.
They slept until 7.30 am. The boy asked her how she is feeling and she told him better than at night, her urge is still very strong, but dull and easier to endure.
At noon they had steaks, potatoes and beer. Sue did drink a beer too and that was not really good for her, her need to wee was getting stronger very fast and at 3 pm she could not hide her desperation anymore.
The boys did not really notice it, but the friend from the new boy did realize that Sue was desperate.
”What is wrong with Sue? Did she loose her ability to hold it? Did her bladder get weak?” he asked his friend and told him that his girl is good in holding. He said that she did not even had her morning pee.
Whenever she wanted to go in the wood, he had something to do for her, he did not give her a chance, because he wanted to make her hold.
“She did not piss since yesterday before she went to bed,”he said and “she is not so desperate as Sue.”
”Oh, i see, she is really good. She did drink a lot of beer yesterday, she must be pretty full. I am glad for you, because i know you love strong bladdered girls, just like me, but Sue has not lost her holding ability, you are right that she is desperate, but that is why she did not piss since yesterday morning at home.” the new said.
”Oh my God, how can the poor girl endure that? That must be absolutely torture for her, she must be full to burst, her bladder must nearly explode, from holding it so long.” answered the friend.
” Is she doing it for you? Is she not allowed to piss all the trip long? Does she have to hold her urine back until she is at home ?” he wanted to know.
The new confirmed the assume from his friend.
At about 5 pm they were ready to leave and to go back home.
The driver said that everybody should use the last chance to take a pee, because there would be no stop until home.
The friend’s girl said that she absolutely need to piss before leaving, because she did not have a pee since yesterday before sleeping and that means 17 hours peeholding.
”You really did not piss for 17 hours? You must be full to explode!” said one of the guys.
The girl agreed that she did not piss for so long and that her bladder is full to burst.
She was proud of her strong bladder and about her ability to hold it for so long.
Another boy said “your piss must be amazing, let us watch!!”
She looked to her friend, he nodded and then she said that she would have no problem with it, pulled down her shorts and her panties, swatted, did spread her thighs and started to piss with high pressure.
The boys could see how the hot urine, from 17 hours was squirting out from her shaved pussy.
When she was ready, after more than one minute, all the boys were clapping.
“Don’t you not let Sue in the wood before we leave? She can not even stand straight anymore, it would be 2 hours torture pure for her on the way home?” asked the friend.
”She did not piss since 34 hours, not one single drop. We are so near to our goal, is think she can endure it 2 more hours, but i ask her if she wants to go.” answered the new.
He asked her if she would like to pee before leaving.
She said that she would nothing like more and nothing needing more, than to piss, but she don’t do it.
”I am holding it for you like i promised, i will be “your “strong, brave girl.” she said.
All the way home she had her hands pressed hard between her nude thighs.
Sometimes she had one hand inside her panties and pressed one finger on her peehole.
I told her to piss in a jug when we are at home, because i want to know how much she is holding.
After 2 hours and after 36 hours peeholding for Sue, the bus stopped at my house.
As soon as she was getting out, she pressed her two hands between her thighs and was squatting down.
It was possible for her to hold it during the journey, when she was sitting, but now she could not move and she could not walk anymore.
We had just a few steps to go but she could not anymore. She did try to stand up, but as soon as she was standing, she started to piss, the hot wee was running down on her wonderful legs.
She did some steps beside to the road, was squatting between the parking cars and pissed in her panties.
She was squatting in a large lake of urine. It was unbelievable how much she was able to hold, how big her bladder was getting, when it was forced to hold the urine from 36 hours.
At home the boy leaked the smelling urine from the smooth skin of the girls legs.
The girl said that she would be sorry for pissing herself so near from home, so near from their goal.
Next time she will try at home, not to piss as long as any possible and then to piss in a jug, to see how much she is able to hold inside her, said the girl to her new friend.
They fu……. 2 times before they were sleeping. |
The other night I had an idea for a story so I decided to write it. I've been a long time lurker on this forum so I figured I would finally create an account and share what I had made. Hope you enjoy.
Jane sighed as she closed the front door to her apartment behind her, finally being able to release the stress in her shoulders from a long day at work.
She wanted badly to crawl into bed and look at pointless things on her phone for three hours before going to sleep, but she had made a prior commitment to her friends to spend that Friday evening on something nice. In this instance, it was a pricey dinner at a nice restaurant.
A glance at her watch revealed a time of 6:30 p.m, meaning she had around ten minutes to get ready before she needed to leave.
Jane moved swiftly into the adjacent kitchen space and began to pour herself a glass of sweet tea. She’d always found comfort in the drink, as it revived memories in her head of more innocent times, more or less, on her grandparents’ farm in South Carolina. She downed a glass and a half quickly to focus her head, and then made for her bedroom at the end of her apartment’s only hallway, another semi-full glass in tow.
It was at this point a large unanswered question arrived in Jane’s stream of thoughts, which since leaving work had included what she was going to tell her friends when they asked why she, at 24, was still single and showing no prospects.
Also on her mind had been whether or not she would find such a prospect tonight, as one of her friends, Mia Anderson, had said she was bringing a “friend” of hers, Michael, whom she had described as “sexy” and “a total hunk” in their group chat. Following images proved to Jane that those statements were true.
However, those clouds scattered in her mind as she became focused on one new problem. What the hell was she going to wear tonight?
Jane, standing in front of her bedroom’s closet mirror, illuminated on all sides by the many colorful strips of LED lights that ran along her walls, pulled her work hoodie off over her brown hair and revealed a T -shirt showing off the logo for a metal band she loved in high school.
Removing that shirt revealed a black sports bra cradling a set of mid to large-size breasts that made all her friends silently jealous, save for Jessica from her exercise class, who sported a pair of DDDs and never wore a bra when she could get away with it. She admired how her long hair fell upon her chest, almost accentuating it.
Her basic pair of work khakis fell next revealing smooth cream colored legs she toned often with running or bike riding. Her panties were a basic black color matching that of her bra and were slightly small, showing off a decent bit of the contour of her labia.
Jane stood in front of her bedroom mirror admiring her figure and thinking of all the ways it could be used by Michael’s chiseled arms and no doubt very endowed manhood. It brought to her an all-too-familiar feeling in her lower regions, but as she took another sip of sweet tea, she began to feel a different sensation, the unmistakable twang of needing the toilet, no doubt brought on by the nervous tea drinking and numerous bottles of water she drank while at work earlier.
Another glance at her watch imparted a time of 6:35. Shit, she thought. I’ve got five minutes left and I’m standing here naked drinking tea.
Still centering on her lust for Michael, she decided she didn’t have the time to relieve herself and should instead find a killer outfit that will tell Michael she’s very interested.
Off came the bra and panties, but she hadn’t the time to admire herself further. Jane dug around in the dresser nearest her closet and found a thin, pinkish skirt that came no lower down her legs than the mid-thigh. Still without panties, she went ahead and slipped it on, relishing in its relative lewdness compared to what she usually wore.
Inside the closet, Jane approached another dresser, next to which was a small rectangular bag that stirred in her some rather indignant feelings.
I’m absolutely not wearing one of those, Jane thought to herself. I’m an adult, and I’m trying to get dicked tonight.
So she put the bag out her mind and fetched from inside the dresser a pair of panties. She haphazardly pulled the lacy, dark gray panties up her legs and over her privates, noticing some more significant pushback from her now bloated feeling bladder. Once having put on her panties, Jane felt compelled to grab at her crotch and find a way to make the feeling go away.
Another look at her watch showed a time of 6:39. Nope, she had to be out the door now. The dinner place was 20 minutes away and she did not want her friends getting any more time with Michael than her.
Quickly Jane pulled on a thin, white shirt that hugged her breasts well and made her realize that she had forgotten to put on a bra. Her need to leave however and her uncomfortable bladder told her that it didn’t matter. I'd hoped to have it taken off by the end of the night anyway.
Jane finished off her cup of sweet tea before heading out the door and down the stairs of her apartment building. Around back she entered her white Ford Focus and began driving north through her small town towards the combination restaurant and bar that she and her friends were meeting at.
By the time Jane pulled into the restaurant parking lot, she had begun to regret her decision not to relieve her bladder before leaving. The tight uncomfort in her abdomen made her unable to sit still, especially at a red light. The twang longed for pressure from her hand or crossed legs, but she resisted based on the idea that it would be undignified for a woman her age. She’d been in much more uncomfortable bladder situations before, anyway, so she didn’t think much of it.
She made her way through the restaurant’s front door at 7:03 p.m. The cool evening air and parking lot smells combined to provide a strange atmosphere for the beginning of Jane’s highly anticipated night.
Inside, Jane noticed that there was no one in front of her, meaning her friends were either late or had already found a table. Perfect, she thought. I can dash off to the toilet unnoticed and finally release this pee.
Her ambitions were dashed though as Mia and her head of unmistakable silky red hair waved from across the dining area. Jane could tell she was looking directly at her from her corner booth seat. Next to her was Michael in all his sexy charm.
Reluctantly, Jane proceeded towards Mia’s table and watched as her other friend, Amy, stood up from the opposite booth and offered her the inside seat.
Trying not to portray her bladder’s predicament to Michael, who greeted her nicely with a deep voice, Jane took the seat offered to her. Amy sat back down and slid up close to her high school friend. Her flowing blue sundress collected by her thighs and her golden hair fell beneath her shoulders.
While Jane’s tolerance for small talk was reduced at the moment, she participated as much as she could in the conversation that began over drinks. Jane learned that Michael was a young professional in a banking firm, she awkwardly admitted to Mia’s questioning that she was still single, and Mia told the group about her latest sexual exploits which, even though she had become thoroughly used to Mia’s stories, invariably made Jane slightly blush.
Apparently Mia had been with three men at once the weekend before, and while it wasn’t explicitly said, Jane could tell Michael was likely one of them, the thought of which, combined with the knowledge that Michael was presently looking intently over her body, stirred a naughty feeling in her crotch that temporarily distracted her from her bladder.
She felt the odd feeling of pee beginning to make its way out of her and, while trying to keep a poker face, adjusted her legs to place some more pressure on her peehole.
Fuck, I have to pee, Jane thought as the pressure on her peehole barely waned. I shouldn't have drank all that tea.
However, even as the pressure began mounting between her crossed legs, Jane was mortified at the thought of announcing her need to pee to MIchael and shamefully asking Amy to let her up from the table. As much as she needed release, it was out of the question. She would just have to hold it until she had convinced Michael to come home with her.
Besides, she thought. I’m a grown woman and I should be able to hold it.
With a newfound resolve, Jane continued holding her pent-up pee even as she downed a couple of fruity, ambiguously alcoholic drinks, at least for another ten minutes before her bloated pee-filled bladder began trying to leak again.
This time, the feeling caught her mid-sentence. As she felt the leak coming on, she fought back the instinct to shove a hand against her quivering pussy and hold herself like a little girl who had ignored her need to pee until it was too late.
With eyes on her, Jane’s anxious fear of her company judging her made it so she had to act as if she didn’t need desperately to go to the toilet. She continued on talking as a small bit of pee shot out of her peehole and into her thin panties. At once her pussy lips felt warm and wet, and now far more than before she had to squeeze her legs together to prevent the leak from becoming a stream.
Underneath the table, Jane tried to stealthily reach up under her skirt to feel the damage from the small leak of pee. As she felt the now approximately inch-sized wet spot right at her pussy, she mentally scolded herself for getting into this position.
You better not piss your panties again, you stupid little girl, Jane imagined being said to her in Michael’s voice. Supremely naughtly thoughts filled her head and began to affect her. Her nipples, unconstrained, began to poke noticeably out of the front of her white blouse.
Despite her efforts, Jane’s desperate state was noticed by Amy, who had seen on many occasions the tell-tale signs that her friend needed to pee and was too shy to say so.
Eye contact with Mia confirmed Amy’s suspicion. They both separately came to the conclusion that their friend needed a bailout.
“I’m going to go find the toilet,” Mia said in a way that invited her female friends to stereotypically join.
“I’ll come with,” Amy chimed. “What about you, Jane?”
Jane halfway snapped out of her naughty thoughts. She had resigned to some part of herself that she was about to piss her panties at that table, but now she had a way out. She could go with her female friends and finally release the many hours worth of pee that desperately wanted out of her. The thought of it sent a shiver down her spine and a bit of excitement to her stuck-out nipples.
She stole a glance at Michael to see his reactions, and saw that he was having a hard time concealing his interest in Jane’s protruding chest. His eyes barely stayed in his head.
Jane’s bladder twitched with her need, but another thought came to her mind. With her friends together in the bathroom, she would have the unique opportunity to speak with Michael alone.
I can’t pass this up, Jane reasoned to herself. The way he’s looking at me, just a few flirty phrases and I’ll have his sexy ass around my finger.
“No, I’m good,” Jane said to her friends. “You go on ahead.”
“Are you sure?” Amy asked again, knowing full well that her friend very much had to pee.
“Yep, you two be careful,” Jane said before turning to Michael, his sun kissed face showing a sensual smile.
Confused, Amy and Mia left for the bathroom to relieve their own bladders.
“So, you’re a businessman, huh?” Jane began. “What do you do for fun?”
“I work out a lot and like to enjoy the outdoors,” Michael replied, continuing to eyeball Jane’s slightly squirming body. “I go camping at least once a month.”
Jane’s head filled with visions of Michael swimming in a lake with no shirt on, the imprint of his dick visible through his tight swimming trunks. She tried to ignore the feeling that her bladder was on the verge of contracting hard.
“You take anyone on these camping trips with you?” She lightly grabbed her crotch with her left hand.
“I could, but it would have to be someone that could keep up with me. I do a lot of hiking.”
“You’re looking for a girl who can rough it in the woods?” She brought her other hand down to her crotch as the pressure became more than she had ever bore before. She was intensely desperate and felt her control slipping more.
“I might be,” Michael said knowingly.
Thinking entirely of taking this specimen’s cock inside her, Jane leaned across the table to Michael’s face and responded in her idea of a sexy, whispery voice, “I can handle whatever you throw at me.”
As Jane did this, her bladder had had just about enough and she had begun to leak more pee into her lacy gray panties.
She retracted back into her seat and began doubling over, both hands tightly holding her increasingly wet crotch.
No, no, no, no, no, not now! Jane thought in a panic. She crossed her legs as much as she could but still felt her control leaving her muscles. Her poor bladder was screaming at her to let go of her pee.
“Are you alright, Jane?” Michael asked.
She said nothing as another leak forced its way out of her peehole and into her hands, wetting them as the warm pee soaked through her thin lingerie. She grunted and clenched, making it obvious to Michael what was happening.
The next leak was the final straw. As another bit of pee soaked her panties and hands, she felt her control break away completely and a torrent of pee begin to spout from her peehole into her panties, quickly forming a puddle beneath her that soaked the bottom of her skirt.
The unmistakable hiss of hot pee streaming from Jane’s pussy into her clothes emanated around her. A few others at a nearby table looked over and saw a stream of pee falling onto the floor underneath.
“No, no, no, no, no…” she whimpered between sniffles. She had begun to cry slightly. Her face turned bright red, her eyes puffed up and snot ran down her face. She began to scold herself for pissing her panties like a stupid little girl.
You stupid baby, pissing yourself like that, she imagined Michael saying to her. The thought gave her a hot, tingly feeling in her pee-covered pussy.
The pissing continued for another minute, during which Jane sat in her one spot and soaked up a massive amount of the puddle beneath her into her pink skirt, giving it a slight yellow tint.
Through teary eyes Jane saw Michael effect a look of shock and disgust at her childish display.
“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Jane said quietly as she jumped up from the seat and towards the bathroom, her face almost entirely red. On her way, she ran past Mia and Amy, who were relieved to know she was finally going to the bathroom.
In the bathroom, she grabbed a stall and sat, huffing and puffing, on the toilet seat.
As Jane looked down to inspect the damage, she noticed that her nipples were still solid as ice and standing at attention. Her thoughts clouded some more, and she wanted nothing more than for her nipple to be pinched and sucked.
The warm wetness emanating from her crotch felt so inviting. Pulling up her soaking wet skirt, she placed her right palm against the soaking gusset and rubbed lightly. She took her left hand to her left nipple and began tweaking it through her thin shirt.
I pissed myself again, Jane thought to herself. I’m such a dumb, little girl for waiting too long.
She imagined Michael entering the stall door in front of her and saying, Did my little girl have an accident?
She rubbed more intensely upon her piss-soaked pussy. Light moans escaped Jane’s mouth before she stuck her thumb inside it.
Now, as she sucked her thumb, her pussy began to throb. It was one of those things Jane could never justify and would never do in front of anyone, but she loved the feeling so much she could barely cum without it. As she masturbated, she felt the need to pee again building in her bladder.
In Jane’s mind, Michael was taking her in his burly arms. You know only stupid little girls pee in their panties.
She paused to peel her soaked panties off and expose her bare, pissy pussy as she imagined Michael doing it instead.
Bad girl, Michael said as he pushed the piss-soaked panties onto Jane’s face. She inhaled deeply the scent, the evidence that she had pissed all over herself like a child.
Sucking the pee from her soaking panties, Jane’s toes began to curl as her orgasm approached.
"I’m a stupid little girl," Jane said aloud. As she began to cum, fresh piss began spurting directly onto the bathroom floor from Jane’s throbbing pussy. She couldn’t possibly have cared.
Cumming, Jane shook as her eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy. Even after falling off her glorious peak, her pee continued spraying onto the floor, creating a shiny yellow puddle that extended out underneath the stall walls. Jane couldn’t focus enough to try to stop. She slumped onto the toilet with her hand still caressing her wet pussy lips.
“Jane?” rang from the door to the bathroom. It was Amy. Michael had told her everything.
Hesitantly, Jane called to her friend, “In here. Don’t come in...please.”
“Did you have an accident again?” asked Amy. Jane’s face blushed behind the closed door. “Yes.”
“It’s OK, I’ll help you take care of it,” Amy said in a calming tone. “Michael left with Mia.”
“Did he say anything?” Jane asked optimistically.
Hesitant to burst her bubble, Amy eventually said, “He said...that he had no interest in a little girl who couldn’t control herself.”
Jane’s fantasy shattered, and she cried again, humiliated. |
Duos, ever since Caustic took off, it was all they wanted to play, not wanting to open up their little group to any outsiders yet...Not after the incident, not after everything her surrogate father had done to her, to the entirety of the apex games.
“Shooting across the field, in Market!” Her soft French voice came through the mic with a harsh scratching, bringing Crypto out of his thoughts with a crash. The blush that came across his face, had been getting worse ever since she...came to his room, started to speak to him again. That sweet tone of her voice, that he had missed, alone in his room after every game, was something he never expected to hear again without the tone of anger washing over it.
“Got it, do they sight you?” Wattson’s negatory sound came through and he sighed in relief, moving from the small building he had been hiding out in, his drone swinging through the air to smack back into his hand, seeing the familiar orange and blue crouched behind a rock to the right of Market. The distant roar of Bloodhound made them both jump, though they were out of range.
“Crypto! You didn’t have to join me, I’m alright.” Her tone wasn’t as cherry as it would have been a handful of months ago. The truth had come out, though she still had the right to be pissed with him for lying to her. Apologizing profusely, something he wouldn’t do for anyone else, finally got the French woman back in his life.
“Don’t worry about it, I didn’t want someone sneaking up behind you, with those morons firing as loud as they can.” Kneeling in front of her, the firing had stopped, an eerie quietness settling over the field, making Wattson shiver, checking her own ammo reserves, the time to third party would be coming soon, if someone else didn’t beat them to it first.
“Thank you...It’s nice to have a tracker back on my side...” Wattson looked up at him, giving him one of those smiles of hers, he’d never admit it, never tell her how happy it made him to get looks without burning hate in them from her...He was lucky he had managed to get her back.
“REPLICATOR INCOMING!” The robotic voice of the announcer above them made Crypto frown, not needing a reason for any other teams to converge on them. Checking his map as the Market began to light up with firing again he sighed, his lip being gently nibbled.
“Tae Joon?” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she clapped a hand over her lips, looking away, as if too nervous to go where she had gone as his friend before.
“Natalie...” Tae Joon liked the way his name sounded coming from her again, it had been too long since he heard it behind closed doors, and saw her smile when she said it. His hand reached out, brushing fingers on her cheek, he made her face him, giving her a rare half smile.
“I missed you saying it, no one’s around, don’t worry about it...”
Natalie flushed, letting his fingers linger until he took them away, she unclipped an orange flask, blue strips on it to match her outfits aesthetic, off of her uniform. Unscrewing the top she offered, Tae Joon raising a brow took it, sipping what he found to be water, realizing he was sweating bullets in his thick jacket. The hot sun bearing down on him he paused, realizing he had...drank all of it, glancing to her Natalie only giggled, strapping it back in place.
“You’re a dork Tae Joon...I wanted you to have it, be careful...for me, Oui?” Natalie spoke before she moved to stand, moving to start rushing Market, Tae Joon flushing as he ran behind her. He was never lying to her again...Couldn’t risk losing that sunshine smile.
Hundreds of bullets spent later and they were standing in the middle of Market, two more squads were left, and at this point? Tae Joon expected them to be solos, or at the very least cowards. Sparing a glance at Natalie who was sitting on a death box, catching her breath, he smiled, she had done incredibly well.
Another pang from his lower stomach, making him wince, standing up too straight was getting a little bit...difficult. Regret from drinking that entire flask Natalie lent him was burning his chest, trying to stand up anyway, not wanting his partner to recognize the weakness that was plain across his body.
How had he let this happen? They had just taken their break, why didn’t he just empty his damn bladder before they were in the top three, the final fight?! Tae Joon groaned softly, biting his lip to cut off the sound of it. Glancing over, he froze, panicking on his features as he noticed the look his blonde partner was giving him, gun in hand she opened her mouth to speak…
He really needed to thank whoever threw that arc start later, but it landed between them, causing an explosion that caught him in the blast just a bit, his shields cracking a hair. He heard the laugh of that fucking old man, a growl deep in his throat as he saw Natalie ahead of him, Bangalore up on the wrap-around balcony the Market held, she didn’t see the enemy.
“GET-” Tae Joon doubled over, holding his bladder as a sharp painful pang dug its claws up the inside of his torso, a gasp tore from his throat, pain making him a sitting duck, his partner ahead of him, turning to look at him, providing cover fire at Mirage.
It might have been a blessing then, that Bangalore smoked, providing cover for them, though by the way they were shooting, a digital threat scope was on that gun of hers, maybe both...Then again Mirages aim was so shit, it could have been coincidence either way.
A jerk from his wrist, causing him to start,eyes wide meeting the blue ones of his partner, the look of confusion on her face, mingling with concern filled him with...shame. He hadn’t meant to cause her worry, he hadn’t meant to be a damn burden on the team!
“Crypto!! What has gotten into you?!” Tae Joon couldn’t even respond, couldn’t even open his mouth before there was that tell tale sound. His eyes went wide, feeling an intense heat on his shoulder. Wattson screamed, internally he cursed, he had fucked up, they could have won, but he had to just go and be the dipshit, dragging her down!
Natalie wasn’t having it, the charge rifle shot had cut away the flesh in his shoulder, cauterizing the wound, sizzling flesh smell burning her nose, as she squeezed his wrist. Forgoing that, her arm went around his waist, dragging him up the stairs, hearing the shouts of the two they left behind, the hatch door opened, drawing fire they narrowly managed to avoid.
“I...Sorry...” Even just talking was hard for him, feeling this petite girl drag him out of there, behind a rock, letting him stumble to his knees, shaking as Wattson put her hands on his back, the hacker trying to breathe through the pain feeling the urge swell…
“You don’t need to be sorry, just heal!! Recon, I’ll be back for you, please!! Don’t come out, not until you’re alright Tae Joon!” Her voice was frantic, the concern breaking through the fog of his brain, as he nodded, panting, feeling the pressure of her on his back...He felt a light kiss on the back of his hair, a blush melting his face.
“N-Nata-” She was gone, running back inside with a warrior-worthy shout, making him smile as he flopped on his back, stabbing the syringe into the burning wound, he closed his eyes, back arching against the pale dirt.
“Ngh! Haa!” The medicine started to work its magic, his skin itching as it began to pull back together, the hacket, moving to squat on the heels of his feet. Panting quietly, he opened the control panel to his drone, sending it after his partner.
Hack, the drone, rushed out of the holster on his back, the little propulser making its sound as it rushed into Market, seeing Wattson finishing the Bangalore from earlier, the Mirage was nowhere to be seen. The other team, Fuse, and Lifeline were across the way, though...he was having trouble seeing. He could feel himself shaking, in turn...his drone was shaking. Perfectly visible by all the squads, his drone was shaking like a leaf, dodging every single bullet the Lifeline shot at him.
This was the end of the line, the pressure that had been steadily building in his bladder was reaching a breaking point. It was getting hard to even focus on flying the drone, to ping the enemies, Wattson needed him! Crypto whimpered, dropping the controller in the dirt, his drone began to fly in circles, Crypto doubled over, not trusting himself to move, the pressure, the burning in his lower abdomen bringing tears of frustration in his eyes, he couldn’t even take the time to go, this was the final fight!
“Crypto?!” No response through the coms, all she could hear was whimpering, heavy breathing, before the microphone cut off...She couldn’t just leave him to die, what if the other team, snuck up on him!
Turning on her heel, she was rushing out, leaving the two other final teams to duke it out in Market, rushing back to the place she had left her partner.
“Tae Joon! Tae!?” Wattson’s shadow fell over him, all he could manage to communicate was a shake of his head, black hairs, swinging in front of his face, the poor man couldn’t bare to face her…
“Pl...Please don’t look at me, I don’t want y-you to see me...like...this...Ngh! Fuck...Fuck! It hurts!”
Wattson’s eyes went wide, going to her knees, she glanced to the market, the shots were still firing, and every time the bullets went off, Crypto flinched...Reaching out, her hand touched his leg, a gasp falling from her lips as she felt how badly his leg was shaking.
“Mon amie! What happened, didn’t you heal?! Did you get shot?!” Natalie’s fingers brushed over the fabric of his pants, before pushing into his jacket, looking for moisture in the form of blood, though she felt nothing...Except a bump underneath the lower half of his shirt.
“NGH! F-Fuck! Natalie- don’t! Don’t touch that, leave it...j-just leave it, someone’s gonna find us...shoot you, please! Please just...win for us...I know y-you can.” Natalie swallowed hard, suspicion in her mind...all but confirmed by how violently he flinched. Her hands brushed down his legs, wrapping her fingerless gloved hands over his knees, pushing them apart.
“Oh...O-Oh my god, how...how long have you been...holding it!? Tae...Tae Joon, you...your...your….bladder!” The lower half of his shirt was bumped, his shirt tight around it, and it was obvious what it was. His knees were shaking, his chest rising and falling with the effort of holding back his shame, every movement caused him to wince, he was barely holding it together, holding his urine back.
“Don’t...don’t look at me, please Natalie, I don’t wa...want you to see this...I’m begging you...” Sweat from his exertion was plastered to the front of his face, his lips parted, his eyes clouded, he didn’t dare move.
“I’m not leaving you to be in pain!! If we lose we lose...clearly you are more important to me!” Natalie moved forward, her knees making little mounds in the dirt, her hands gently pressed into his stomach, pushing him to sit on his ass, instead the balls of his feet.
“Ngh! Mmmna....Nat...Natalie please, be careful I don’t think I can...stop it...please go away! Fuck...please...” His voice was getting weaker, voice cracks after his pained whimpers, his legs shaking like the heat of the day didn’t exist.
“Don’t struggle! You need to let it...out, if you hold it any longer you might burst! It’s okay...I won’t judge you! Do you want me to uhm...undress you? So you don’t...wet...yourself?” The only thing the poor hacker managed to say in response was a shake of his head, if it was between wet pants or Wattson seeing his embarrassing boxers, he’d take pissing himself like a little kid.
“O-Okay...Let me just...Here...This may...hurt.” Natalie pushed her fingertips underneath the hem of his shirt, pushing it up, bunching the fabric over the bump of his bladder, Crypto shook his head, but Natalie had to ignore him, it was this or a lifelong weak bladder and...she doubted he wanted the latter.
With a flush on her face, black hairs of happy trail leading down into the hem of his pants, trying not to think about it, those same fingertips pressed into the bulge. His reaction was immediate, arching his back, a hand flew to his own hair, grabbing a fistful of the messy black strands, forcing his hand over his own crotch, trying to stop whatever was about to happen, a whimper of pain leaving him.
“It’s okay...Tae...Tae Joon look at me...look at me, you don’t need to worry, it’ll pass, it’ll feel good soon, just...let a little out, oui? Just enough to relieve the pressure?” Crypto shook his head again, but those eyes of his flicked up, meeting her blue ones, wishing he could hug her close, his source of comfort.
His hips jerked as she pressed into his bladder’s bump yet again, a stifled yelp leaving his lips as he felt his body betray him. He felt warmth, slipping out of him, without him even being given a chance to stop it...Tears that gathered at the corner of his eyes slipping down his cheeks as he squeezed them closed.
“Non, non, look at me mon amie, shh shh don’t cry, it feels better already doesn’t it?” Despite himself, he nodded, sniffing as he adjusted against his own hand, feeling the warmth spread across his boxers. Soaking them, the stream weak, barely piddling as he tried to force it back, to stop the stream, but once his body was started it was hard to stop.
“Noplease...stop...Idon’twantto.” His own voice’s quiet tone surprised him, the teary nature of it, he could hardly hear himself. Slowly as he hiccuped, he felt the warm stream penetrate his pants, leaking down the inside of his pants to finally hit the dirt, slipping down the hill, between Wattson’s boots, making a river of his shame so obvious any viewer watching this at home would know what an...embarrassing piss pants he was. All the while he heard Wattson, gently petting his cheeks, stroking away his tears as he whimpered, as he tried to pull away but she always pulled him back. His pants soaked, warm, clinging to his inner thigh, his entire body shaking, unable to undo the act he just committed in front of the girl he loved.
“Shh shh you’re doing so well! I’m proud of you...it feels better doesn’t it?” Wattson leaned forward, gently pressing her lips to his temple, Crypto couldn’t meet her eyes, closing them, embarrassed, frustrated tears falling down his face...Then he felt her pull away, opening his eyes just in time to feel her coat, fall over him, protecting him from the cameras, providing her comforting scent. Natalie seemed to smile, holding up her gun a smirk on her face.
“Now stay here...relax, I’ll go win this for us! Be safe for me...okay Tae Joon?”
CHAMPIONS OF THE ARENA
WATTSON & CRYPTO
Edited April 20, 2021 by Harpy
(see edit history) |
A Self-Fulfilling Prophecy
by brucejedi
Numerous posts inspired this story. The most immediate is Noface’s “An Inconvenient Entanglement” that imagines a world where all women are assumed incontinent. Readers will notice many similarities between his “green” world and mine, though also some important differences. A second inspiration comes from stories where girls must wait until adolescence to toilet-train, and thus experience it as a rite of passage. Satyr’s magnificent “Developmental Biology” is the best example I know. Both story types normalize female incontinence, allowing the characters to experience it without the customary stigmatization and without ABDL undertones. In that sense, the story I offer here answers tits’s call to combine omorashi and omutsu, where “a full-grown woman is…struggling with keeping her pants dry” and ends up “failing toilet-training”—or does she?
Chapter 1. Diapers and Panties
Courtney hit the search button once again, not expecting much from the bizarre string of terms she’d entered. Her literature review on women’s athleticwear essentially complete, she was merely checking for anything she’d missed. She was about to close the program when a strange title caught her eye:
“Wolcott, J. (2020). A self-fulfilling prophecy? An environmental theory of female urinary incontinence.”
Intrigued, she clicked on the link.
<Access Denied>
Weird, Courtney thought, never had that happen before. The creak of her boss’s door shook her back to reality. She clicked off the window and looked up from her screen. “Good morning, Mr. Mills,” she said in her most cheerful voice. “How’s your work going?”
“Well enough. Did you finish the lit review?”
“Just now I did, yes. Shall I send it over?”
“Yeah, I’ll need it for my 10 o’clock.”
“Certainly, sir.” Courtney took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Now was her best chance. She’d rehearsed the words all morning, but still she felt her pulse quicken. “I also…wanted to ask you something?”
“Can you make it quick? My meeting’s in five.”
“I was wondering, do you think I could give Monday’s presentation myself?”
He seemed to consider it briefly but then said, “You know, Courtney, I better handle it.”
“But…I’ve worked so hard on all the prep, and I feel like I know it so well…”
The corner of his mouth turned upward. “I’m sure you do, but…could you make through the whole presentation?”
“Of course! I mean, I’d have the slides to fall back on, and—”
“—No, that’s not what I meant. Could you make it through?”
Courtney’s confidence deflated like a struck balloon. “I mean…I assume so…I—”
“—Right…but what if you couldn’t? What if you wet yourself in the middle of the presentation—in front of all our best clients?”
As if on cue, she felt warmth spread between her thighs. The image he conjured must have triggered something in her subconscious. Keep it together, Courtney. He can’t have noticed it. Did he notice? She scanned his face for a sign, then stuttered, “I mean…I’d be wearing protection…”
“Sorry, Courtney. Listen, you’re a fine research assistant, one of the best. But I think you can understand why the answer must be no. Have my slides ready by noon, okay?” And with that, he left for his 10 o’clock meeting.
“Kettle’s hot!” she called after him. Then she reached under her skirt to the symbol of her subservience. Her diaper was bulging badly, almost to the point of leaking. Like her boss said, maybe she was better off behind a desk.
* * *
As she entered the changing room, Courtney caught glimpse of her friend Krystal. The young receptionist was sprawled out on one of the padded benches, wet-wipes in hand. A low divider hid her naked crotch from view. “Oh, hi Courtney!” she said.
“Hi,” Courtney replied solemnly, lying back on the adjacent bench.
“Someone’s having a bad morning.”
Courtney hiked up her skirt and lifted her fanny. She undid the tapes and carefully folded her sopping wet diaper. She sighed a deep sigh.
“Your boss, again, huh?”
Courtney took a wet-wipe from her purse and began dabbing her crotch and butt. “Maybe it’s too much to ask,” she said, “but a teensy bit of respect would go a long way.”
“Tell me about it!” said Krystal.
Courtney fished around in her purse. “Crap!” she muttered.
Krystal peaked over. “Oh no—all out? I’ve got plenty. You want pink or flowers?”
“Whichever is more absorbent. I almost overflooded mine just now—too much coffee.”
Krystal laughed. “Flowers, then. I love this brand—they’re almost like overnights.”
“Thanks,” said Courtney, fastening the thick diaper around her hips. It felt comforting, especially after the stressful morning.
“I’m sorry about Mr. Mills,” said Krystal. “He can be a real douchebag.”
Courtney glanced at the toilet stall in the corner, her mind flipping between the exchange with her boss and the strange title of that article. Out of the blue, she asked, “You think we’d gain more respect if we weren’t in diapers?”
“Wait, what?” Krystal looked confused. “How would wetting our clothes gain us respect?”
“No, silly. Like if we didn’t need diapers. Like if we had…control down there…like men do.”
“Oh, I see what you meant!” Krystal laughed. “Yeah, that would be awesome. Keep dreaming, right?”
Courtney sighed again.
“Wait, you’re serious, aren’t you?” Krystal suppressed another giggle. “Didn’t you pay attention in health class? We don’t have penises, remember? Control isn’t possible without one—everyone knows that! Fun to imagine, though, huh?” Krystal touched up her makeup before waving goodbye.
* * *
That evening, Courtney sat at her laptop, entering in search after search, but nothing more than the mysterious title ever came up: “Self-fulfilling prophecy”—what could that mean?
A twinge between her legs caught her attention. Often she didn’t feel it coming, but this time she did. She rolled her hips around, hoping to maybe suppress it? But the feeling only intensified. She pressed her thighs together. Nope, that didn’t work either. A trickle emerged, erupting into a spray. Changing her diaper could wait, though. That was one nice thing, at least—using the bathroom at your own convenience, not when natured called.
She tried a new idea. “Wolcott, J.”—what could that stand for: John? Jake? James? Still no hits. Ah ha! How about this? She typed in, “Jane Wolcott female incontinence.”
And there it was, the top hit: A video of the woman being interviewed by some obscure local news channel. Courtney leaned back and clicked play.
~ ~
A balding newsman stared into the camera. “We end tonight with a heartwarming story about a medical researcher chasing women’s equality. Over to you, Kate.”
The screen switched to a young redhead with impeccable makeup. “Thanks, Bob. My guest tonight is Jane Wolcott, who believes she’s uncovered a vast conspiracy targeted at women. I know I’m all ears. So Miss Wolcott, can you tell us about your theory?”
“Thank you for having me. It’s Dr. Wolcott, by the way.” Kate the newscaster smiled politely as her guest continued: “Did you know that boys’ and girls’ urinary tracts are virtually identical at birth, save for the final portion?”
“I didn’t,” answered Kate, “that’s so interesting. So then, why are women naturally incontinent?”
“Well, that’s just it,” Jane replied, “I’m not sure we are. We possess all the necessary anatomy—the urethral sphincter, nerves around the bladder. We just need to learn to use it all. I see no reason why females cannot toilet-train like males can.”
“Wow,” said Kate, “you mean I could be saving a whole lot on diapers?”
Jane smiled. “And that’s not all. Think of it: Freed from diapers, women could finally gain equal status. A lot of the excuses for excluding us from sports leagues, leadership positions, and high-powered jobs, begin to melt away. No one could claim, ‘But what if your diaper leaks in the middle of [fill in the blank]?’”
“We’ve all heard that one!” laughed Kate. “So I hear you brought something to show us?”
Dr. Wolcott held up a strange garment, similar to men’s briefs but without a fly. A hint of lace adorned the waistline.
“Those are pretty,” said Kate. “What are they?”
“Female underwear, patent pending.”
Kate felt the fabric. “They’re so silky and delicate! I’d love to wear those—not that I could, but…”
“What makes you so sure? Like most women I’ve spoken with, I imagine you’ve never once tried to end your dependence on diapers.”
“Well,” said Kate, “there was that time in tenth grade. Vending machines were out, friends were out. It was the end of the school day, and I thought I could make it home in just a skirt. We’ve all been there, right?”
“Did you make it?”
“This may be TMI for cable television, but as I was walking home, I didn’t even feel it coming.” Kate laughed. “It went all down my legs. I can still remember the squishing sound my shoes made the rest of the way. When I got home, my little brother watched me flee to my room in a wet skirt. Since then, I’ve never been so careless.”
Jane nodded. “Every woman has a story like that. The level of self-doubt I see is enormous. But consider how young boys potty-train. It takes time and effort, with no shortage of mishaps. What if the same were expected of young girls?”
“Fun to imagine, isn’t it? In the meantime, is there any hope for the rest of us?”
“Well, that’s where my research comes in. The goal, of course, is to get to these”—Jane held up the silk underwear again—“but we start with these.” In her other hand, she displayed a slightly thicker pair, almost like a woman’s diaper with no tapes. They vaguely resembled something a little boy might wear. “The techniques we use would sound familiar to anyone with a male toddler—for example, setting a timer to remind yourself to try peeing on the toilet.”
“Wow,” said Kate. “Sounds really annoying and difficult. Had any success?”
“Well,” said Jane, “the results are still preliminary. But I’m quite confident that if—”
“—What do the results show?” Kate cut in.
“Unfortunately, the grant agencies haven’t funded a long enough trial. A few subjects start to show progress, but then the funds run dry. It’s quite frustrating.”
“Speaking of which, that’s all the time we have. Thank you for sharing your fascinating work, Miss Wolcott. To all the ladies out there, how would your life be different if you weren’t reliant on diapers? Share your thoughts on our website! Back to you, Bob.”
“Thanks, Kate,” the balding man replied. “It’s fun to hear divergent views, isn’t it—no matter how far-fetched. So Kate, would you wear those—what should I call them, ‘panties’ maybe?” He smirked.
“I’ll stick with diapers, thanks. I prefer my clothes to stay dry.”
“And there you’ve heard it from our very own Kate Kovac! Good night, everyone!”
~ ~
Courtney sat staring at the screen. “Crap!” she muttered, noticing the time. Her boyfriend would be home at any minute, and she hated greeting him with her diaper this wet. She retreated to the bathroom to change.
* * *
An hour later, Courtney lay naked next to her lover, a broad smile across her face. A plastic lined towel beneath her protected the sheets and mattress. “That felt awesome, babe,” she sighed. “Could you hand me my diaper? Don’t worry, it’s dry.”
“You mean this one?” Kyle dangled it just out of reach.
“Hey, stop! Can I have it, please?”
“Whoops!” He tossed it on the floor beside him.
“You’re mean,” Courtney said with a pout. She reached across him to grab it.
“Wait. What if you left it off for a bit?”
A chill ran through her. “You serious?”
“Like, how long do you think you could last?”
“Without making a mess? I have no idea—it’s totally random.”
He touched her arm gently. “Do you ever feel warning signs?”
“Sometimes.”
“Suppose you felt one right now. Think you could make it to the toilet?”
The thought scared her. She gazed down longingly at the diaper on the floor. “Why are you asking, sweetheart?”
“I’m curious.”
“Um…honestly no, I don’t think I could.”
He hugged her from behind, clutching her naked chest in his arms. “What does it feel like when you wet?”
“Well, this is getting rather personal…” She glanced at her exposed crotch. “Are you sure you want me in your lap like this?”
He pulled the towel up around her bottom, shielding himself and the bed—but not her legs—from a possible accident. “How’s that, better?” He brought his hand down close to her sex. “So what’s it feel like?”
She considered the question. “A lot of times, like nothing. If it’s just a leak, I feel a bit of warmth in my diaper—that’s about it.”
“You don’t feel when it starts to come out?”
Courtney shook her head. “But if it’s a larger wetting, I do. A sudden pressure builds…and then releases.” As she spoke, something hard pressed against her back. “Oh my gosh, this is turning you on, isn’t it?” A lot of men had wetting fetishes, but she didn’t know that about Kyle. He seemed embarrassed, so she turned the conversation in a new direction. “What’s it feel like for you?”
“Hmm, I guess like that pressure you describe, but building much more slowly. I hardly think about it until I know I have to go.”
“How do you know?” Courtney asked with genuine curiosity.
“It’s instinctual, I guess. As a girl, I’m sure it’s hard for you to understand.” He retrieved her diaper from the floor and held it up. “I like the lace details on this style,” he said.
“Cute, right? Honey, I really need it back now. I’m getting nervous.”
He smiled and placed it in her lap. Relief washed over her as she fastened it. She had not yet had an accident in bed with him, and she intended to keep it that way. |
Chapter 2. Saturday Memories
Courtney awoke the next morning to the smell of bacon.
“Good morning, sleepyhead!” Kyle beamed, holding out a steaming plate.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” She wiped the sleep from her eyes.
“Want to eat in bed?” he asked.
“Um, let me change first.” Courtney peered under the covers and felt around. No leaks, thank goodness, but her overnight was plenty full. It felt cold and damp against her skin—not the most pleasant thing to wake up to. The plastic sheets squeaked a bit as she scooched off the bed.
A few minutes later, she was back under the covers, feeling dry and refreshed. “So, what are your Saturday plans?” she asked.
“Probably watch the game. You?”
Courtney swallowed a fork-full of scrambled egg. “Gym in the morning. Then lunch with Krystal.”
Kyle slid his foot past the divide between the cotton sheets on his side and the plastic ones on her side. She smiled as he tickled her toes with his. “Don’t those sheets get itchy?” he asked.
“You get used to it. I’ve slept on ones like this since I was, like, twelve.”
“Why’d you start then?”
Courtney recalled the exact day, in fact…
~ ~
She’d woken up cold and wet that morning, and cringed when she saw the large puddle centered around her diaper. Maybe her parents were still asleep? After changing into something dry, she bundled her sheets up in a ball and crept to the washer.
“Doing some laundry?” asked her mother as Courtney passed by the kitchen.
“Um…all my bras are dirty.”
“Courtney, let me see those sheets.”
Soon they were headed off to the mall. “But mom,” Courtney complained, “I don’t even wet at night that often.”
“Maybe you didn’t used to. Be honest, sweetie, how many times this fall has your overnight diaper leaked? Three, four?”
“Four, I think,” she muttered.
“So you’re probably night-wetting several times a week, now, right?”
The look on Courtney’s face told the story.
“Well, it’s just going to get worse as you get older. You’ll be in plastic sheets sooner or later—might as well be now.”
~ ~
Courtney turned to Kyle as she bit off a piece of bacon. “It’s almost like a coming-of-age thing,” she explained. “A lot of my friends started using them around that time. It’s a lot safer.”
He smiled as he set his plate down on the nightside table. “See you tonight?”
“You bet.”
* * *
Courtney wasn’t much of a gym rat, but she did have a figure to maintain—and these breakfasts of Kyle’s weren’t helping. She waved at the guy behind the counter as she swiped herself in.
On the way to the locker room, she passed by a mom with two young children that looked to be twins—a boy and a girl.
“Freddie, do you need the toilet before we leave?” asked the mom.
“Umm…actually, yes!”
“Better go then, it’s a long car ride.”
“Okay.”
“Mom!” the girl cut in. “Can I try to go too? I think I need to.”
“Silly girl, how would you know that?”
“But can I at least try?”
“She can’t. Right, mom?” said her brother.
“No, as a girl, Emma uses diapers, just like mommy. She could never learn to make it to the toilet like you and daddy.” Then the mom peaked down the girl’s skirt. “Well, still dry, for now. Freddie, can you pee while I take Emma into changing room with me?”
Courtney continued on to the locker room and hung up her coat. Then she lay down on one of the changing benches to remove her wet diaper. After dabbing herself clean, she slid a new garment on. The padding on this one was thicker and spongier, and the outer layer smooth and stretchy like nylon—your typical sports diaper. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it could absorb plenty of moisture without flopping all around like a normal one would.
Courtney placed her bag in her locker and then paused before the mirror. This gym session was definitely warranted. Now five years out of college, she was still slim up top, but her hips had begun to spread. In the padded diaper, she thought her butt looked too large for her frame. Well, that’s what the treadmill was for.
As Courtney jogged along, she felt invigorated—a welcome reprieve from all those hours cooped up behind a desk. She also felt the small annoyances that come with womanhood—the bob of her breasts, the quiver of her thighs, and the slow expansion of her diaper as she leaked here and there. Vigorous exercise wasn’t easy on a woman’s bladder…
~ ~
Freshman year of high school, she had considered trying out for softball. In the crisp fall evenings, she would practice with her dad in the back yard. But she started noticing that by the end of their sessions, her diaper would be sagging. “It’s getting late,” she would say. “Let’s head in.”
“You sure? There’s still time before sundown.”
“I’m sure, dad.” She never knew if he understood why.
One day in October, she and three friends planned to get fitted for sports bras. Courtney barely needed one yet, but she tagged along for moral support.
“These things are super tight,” Courtney complained.
“That’s the point,” said Jenny, adjusting hers in a larger size.
“Both of those come with a sample pack of sports diapers,” the saleslady explained. “It’s a great deal.”
Courtney tried on her matching set that evening. They looked cute, even with all the padding around her bottom.
“Ready for some batting practice?” her dad called through the door.
“Be out in a minute!” After experiencing the wonders of the sports diaper that evening, she never went back.
In the end, though, she never made the varsity team. That spring she sprained her ankle at tryouts, and by next year her leaking issue had worsened to the point where the athletic diaper helped only so much. Like many of her female friends, she began to shy away from organized sports, much to her dad’s chagrin.
~ ~
Courtney switched off the treadmill and moved on to weights and calisthenics. As she pranced around the mat, a man with a creepy goatee kept stealing glances her way. She gave off the best “I’m taken” vibe she could muster, to little avail. Finally she hid behind a row of machines to do sit-ups. Ugh, these were the worst—like repeatedly squeezing a lemon.
Her workout finally complete, Courtney wandered to the showers, anxious to remove her sopping wet sports diaper. The hot water felt exquisite, especially where the padding had been sticking to her skin. She rinsed out her shoulder-length, auburn hair and shut off the tap. Then she glanced at the bench and cursed under her breath. So flustered by the creepy goatee guy, she’d left her gym bag in her locker, and with it her whole supplies of diapers! The lockers were just on the far side of the changing room…but what if she wet herself on the way…?
~ ~
The summer before 11th grade, Jenny hosted a massive pool party in her yard. Courtney wore a gorgeous red bikini—over a swim diaper, of course. After bathing all afternoon, she headed to the backyard changing room to don her evening outfit.
She slid off her bikini bottoms, followed by the waterproof liner that was supposed to separate the pool’s wetness from her own. No one knew if they really worked. When you took it off, the padding underneath was nearly always soaked—from the inside or the outside was anyone’s guess.
Today was no exception. Courtney tossed the soggy padded insert in the trash and rinsed off the bikini and liner in the shower. Then she looked around for her bag and realized her mistake. Stupidly, she’d left it back up at the house. She searched for something—anything—to use for protection, but there was nothing, not even paper towel. She could think of only one option: put the liner and bikini back on without any padding underneath.
At the time, Courtney wasn’t too concerned. At home she would often roam around in just a towel after bathing, and never had it led to an accident. Once she did feel one coming on, but she ran to the toilet in time. She felt reasonably confident she could do that now if it came to it. So she exited the changing room and strolled across the lawn, her towel over her shoulder, hoping no one would notice the lack of padding around her butt.
She was nearly to the sliding back door when she felt it—a bursting pressure between her legs and then wetness flooding the liner, escaping out the sides, and trailing down her legs onto the grass. For a moment she stood frozen, hoping to disappear. Then she glanced around in terror—and by the grace of god, no one had seen.
“Oh, hi Courtney!” came Jenny’s voice, as the back door slid open.
The shock jolted Courtney’s brain back online. “S’up, Jenny?” She brought her towel down to her dripping wet legs. “Don’t wanna be getting any pool water on the carpet…”
Her friend just smiled.
Since then, Courtney’s bladder control had only gotten worse.
~ ~
These days, Courtney knew better than to trust herself even for a short trip across the locker room. But there weren’t many options for protection. The gym has skimped on the size of their towels, and when she tried tucking it between her legs, it kept slipping down and exposing her chest. Maybe a sock? Gross. Her hand? Even grosser, and not very effective. Ooh, how about her loofah? She squeezed the water out of it—it seemed pretty absorbent. So after tucking the towel around her bust, she reached beneath and pressed the loofah to her groin.
Courtney checked if the coast was clear. Seeing no one, she waddled quick as she could to the lockers, her heart beating fast. So far, so good. She swiveled the combination lock with one hand while still clutching the loofa to herself with the other. The locker opened. With her free hand, she grabbed her bag from inside and tossed it onto the bench. Then she yanked on the zipper—but alas, this proved too difficult onehanded. After considering for a moment, she crossed one leg over the other, trapping the loofah between her thighs. Then she hurriedly unzipped the bag and pulled out a diaper—such a welcome sight! She positioned it between her legs and plopped down on the bench. Success!
Courtney examined the loofah carefully. It looked damp, but that could be shower water, right? She washed it off just in case, thrilled she had avoided an accident.
* * *
The plan was then to meet Krystal at a café downtown.
“How was the gym?” Krystal asked after flagging Courtney down.
“Hardly adequate for the number of calories we’re about to consume. This place looks amazing!”
“Want to go change?” her friend asked after ordering.
“Definitely,” said Courtney. They made their way to the women’s room. “See? I even remembered my own this time.”
“Smart girl.” They returned to their seats clean and dry, and waited for their food. “Something on your mind?” Krystal soon asked. “You keep staring off into space.”
“I don’t know. This may seem crazy, but I need to ask you something.”
“What’s up?”
“Well…we wear diapers because we’re incontinent, right?”
“This again? Courtney—”
“—What if we have it backwards? What if we’re incontinent because we wear diapers?”
“Not because we don’t have penises?”
“Nope, I looked it up. Men control their bladder with the sphincter muscle, which is not in their penis. And we have the exact same muscle.”
“So why do I have, like, zero control then?”
“You sure about that?” Courtney asked.
“Says the girl who just changed her wet diaper.”
“I’m not saying I have much, either—well, any really, but… Listen, I watched this video last night of a scientist who believes girls could toilet-train just like boys do, if only we were encouraged to try.”
“So why aren’t we?”
“Patriarchy?”
“You think it’s some grand conspiracy?”
“I know, it sounds crazy. But don’t you remember having better control when you were a kid?”
“I guess so? I haven’t thought much about it. I mean, I’ve always been in diapers, so I just assumed—”
“—Since I saw that video, it’s all I can think about. What if this woman is right—that we could choose when and where we pee, but since no one expects us to, we forget how?”
“Hold on,” said Krystal. “Have you ever had a major accident? I mean like a really embarrassing one in front of people you know?”
“Of course,” said Courtney slowly. “What girl hasn’t…?”
~ ~
Several months after the swim party, Courtney and a few of her guy friends were at Jenny’s raiding the liquor cabinet.
“Courtney, truth or dare?” John asked.
“Mmm, dare.” She was feeling adventurous.
“What’ll it be, boys?”
“Have her take off her undies,” Tim suggested.
“For the next…three rounds,” Jason added.
Courtney smiled nervously. “Seriously, that’s your dare?”
John just grinned and nodded.
“You guys are crazy!” Courtney reached under her shirt and unclasped her bra. Then she slid the straps down her arms and pulled it off without showing anything. She placed it on the rug beside her and said, “Satisfied?”
“Diaper too,” John replied.
“What? You can’t be serious.”
“A dare’s a dare,” said Tim.
Courtney stared wide-eyed around the circle, but no one came to her rescue. Finally, Jenny went and retrieved a towel from the closet. “Sit on this, honey. It’s just for a few minutes.”
So Courtney reached under her skirt and confirmed that her diaper was dry. Nervously, she untaped it and placed it next to her bra. There she sat, her legs folded off to one side, her skirt covering her bare bottom that rested on nothing but the towel. “Jenny’s turn,” she muttered.
Tim selected Truth, but Courtney didn’t process what Jenny asked. Her arms shivered in fearful anticipation.
“Your turn, Courtney,” said Jason.
“Um, pass.” Courtney gazed down and noticed her hardened nipples poking through her shirt. She crossed her arms over her chest, still shivering.
Time seemed to stand still. Jason’s turn, then Tim’s, then John’s, and Jenny’s again. Courtney could only think of the terrifying nothingness hugging her crotch.
“Courtney?”
“Pass again.”
“I think she’s had enough,” said Jenny.
“A dare’s a dare,” said Tim.
Another half-round proceeded at a snail’s pace. And then Courtney felt the first signs of disaster. Should she make a run for it? The bathroom was only down the hall, but she risked peeing all over the carpet on the way, in front of everyone. Maybe better to go right here, under her skirt where no one could see? Too late, she was already going. The hot spray ricocheted off her leg and onto the towel. Courtney turned to Jenny with pleading eyes.
Her friend instantly knew. “You guys want to grab us some more beers?”
“I’ll go,” said Jason.
“I think you all should,” said Jenny.
“Why?” Tim asked.
“Come on, let’s go, buddy,” said John, grabbing Tim’s arm.
After the room emptied, Jenny asked, “How bad is it?”
“Worse than bad,” said Courtney, trembling.
“Run quick. The boys will return any minute.”
“But I’ll drip everywhere! This towel’s soaked through.”
“You gonna sit in your puddle all night? It’s now or never, hon.”
So Courtney reached under her skirt and brought the sole, dry end of the towel to her sopping wet legs.
“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” said Jenny.
Courtney just picked up her bra and diaper and trudged off to the bathroom. “Where’d Courtney go?” she heard Tim ask. She could only imagine the look of death Jenny shot him in return.
~ ~
“Well,” said Krystal, “the few times I can remember foregoing a diaper ended in disaster. I just don’t think it’s possible to learn to go without, not for me anyway. And I doubt I’m alone in that.”
Just then, a look of surprise crossed Krystal’s face. She exhaled slowly, her eyes still. She had hidden it well, but Courtney had been there too many times not to notice. Her friend had just wet herself under the table.
After lunch, the two women strolled down Main Street in their winter coats, pausing here and again to peer in store windows. Courtney could only think, though, of the self-fulfilling prophecy. What if she hadn’t been kept in diapers as a girl—and instead been encouraged to develop the limited control she once had? Could she have graduated to girl’s underwear, like the ones in the video?
“Hey, check it out!” said Krystal, pointing to a glaring window display.
Explore our new Diva collection!
~Feel sexy and secure from dawn till dusk~
Underwire bra with matching diaper. Floral lace details.
Bra – Lightly lined; available in push-up, demi, or full-cup $29
Matching diaper – Medium absorbency*; moisture indicator $19 for 25
$35 for 50
*not intended for nighttime use. $59 for 100
“That’s a great price for a bra,” said Courtney.
“That’s how they get you, right?” said Krystal.
“Yeah, they know you’ll spend a hundred times more on the diapers.” Courtney grinned at her friend. “Sure you don’t want to try toilet-training?”
Krystal smiled back. “Tell me how it goes. Fifty bucks says you repeatedly drench your clothes.”
And with that, it was Courtney’s turn to wet—her diaper her only defense against the sudden, uncontrollable mess. Who was she kidding? Krystal was probably right.
Edited April 20, 2021 by brucejedi
(see edit history) |
Chapter 3. Potty-Training
“Hi honey!” Courtney called when she arrived at Kyle’s place that evening. “How was the game?” Then she smelled the wafting aroma.
She found Kyle in the kitchen, a goofy grin across his face. “You didn’t watch it, did you? Never even planned to. You cooked for me instead!” She kissed him on the cheek. “What’s gotten into you lately?”
Dinner was exquisite; he even served wine. In the few months they’d been dating, he’d never done anything like this. Could it mark a new turn in their relationship? One thing led to another, and Courtney soon found herself in just her bra and diaper, lying against his chest.
“Cute set,” he said. “I love that shade of pink on you.”
She felt his hand on her back and then her bra come loose. “Then why do you take it off so soon?” she teased.
“Well, I love this shade of pink too.” He brought his fingers to the bullseye surrounding her nipple.
Courtney gasped.
He climbed on top of her, cupping her breasts while kissing her neck. “Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes,” Courtney panted.
He straightened out the protective towel beneath her—as his sheets were cotton, not plastic. Then he then traced his hands along the lace trim of her diaper. He cupped her sex and tickled the fabric with his fingers, but she couldn’t feel much through the padding.
“You can take it off now…if you’re ready too,” she whispered.
Kyle undid the tapes, and Courtney lifted her hips to allow him to slide her diaper off. She felt the rush that always came from baring her vulva—at once both delicious and terrifying. He touched her there, and then again, and again. She sure could feel his fingers now. Her legs spread of their own volition. A moan escaped her lips.
And then she felt something else. “Ohmygosh, ohmygosh…get off, quick!” She practically pushed Kyle onto the bed and clutched the towel against her groin. “Ohhh nooo,” she whimpered, as pee splattered against the towel, soaking it thoroughly. When it finally stopped, she just lay there, her hand glued between her legs, exasperation plastered on her face.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Kyle hugged her from the side. Then he motioned at the towel. “Is it…that bad?”
Courtney let the towel fall away, revealing a crotch so wet it still dripped in places.
“Another towel,” they said in unison. Kyle grabbed one from the bathroom, which Courtney used to pat dry her butt and thighs. He also brought a glass of water to calm her nerves.
She thanked him and took a few sips. “This is so embarrassing… Did any get on the sheets?” She climbed off the bed, revealing a very large wet spot on the original towel.
“Doesn’t look like it,” said Kyle, feeling underneath. “The plastic lining seemed to do the trick.”
Courtney set her empty glass on the nightstand. “I’ll wash them for you anyway. It’s the least I can do.” She wrapped the new towel around and between her legs like a makeshift diaper, as insurance on the way to the shower. Before stepping in, she grabbed an overnight from her stash and placed it just outside. Then she turned the nozzle and rinsed off all the pee.
Kyle smiled as she emerged from the bathroom in just her overnight diaper. “Hi beautiful,” he called.
“In this?” They tried to make them cute, with little moons or some such pattern, but their true function was still embarrassingly obvious. Tight elastic at the thighs and waist created a watertight seal, with thick, thick padding in between covering every inch of Courtney’s butt and groin.
“In anything. Hey, I can only imagine how you must feel, but you know I really don’t mind. Accidents happen, right sweetheart?”
She curled up next to him, and he kissed her goodnight.
* * *
By the time Monday arrived, Courtney just wanted this stupid presentation to be over. She had conducted all the research, prepared the slides, and now her boss was stealing the credit—all because of some lame excuse that she couldn’t “make it through the meeting.” She stood at the conference table, serving coffee to all their best clients while they waited for Mr. Mills to arrive.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” he said as he entered. “I think you’ll be very excited by this new line in women’s athleticwear. And here to present it is Miss Courtney Clark.” He winked at her.
Courtney’s heart did a somersault. Well, that was unexpected! She straightened her skirt and strolled to the front of the room. “Thank you, Mr. Mills,” she said slowly. Then she read from the notes she had so carefully prepared. At the fifth slide, several clients clapped with excitement. She was nailing this! She began to move beyond her notes, adding embellishments from her vast base of knowledge.
And then she felt it, a cool breeze under her skirt where insulating padding should have been. Had she forgotten to put on a diaper?
“Is everything okay, Miss Clark?” asked her boss.
“Um, y-yes, now as you can see…” She resumed reading verbatim from her notes. But wait, she wasn’t naked beneath her skirt. Something frilly was there, thin and delicate…like that female underwear from the video? She stumbled through the next two slides, smiling nervously at the now deadpan audience.
“So, in conclusion, this new product line…” A pressure filled her groin and then receded, leaving moisture in its wake. Her eyes darted downward. Nothing showing through, thank goodness. “This new product line…” The pressure came again, much stronger. She pressed her thighs together in a meek attempt to block the impending tidal wave. “This new…product—” The wave crashed, soaking whatever undergarment she wore. Warm pee streamed down both legs, splattering audibly on the floor.
“Courtney…” said Mr. Mills, staring at the growing puddle beneath her.
~ ~
“Courtney…” said Kyle, his hand on her shoulder, “are you alright?”
She wiped her eyes. What a nightmare! Then she noticed Kyle staring at the mattress. She propped up on her elbows and peered down. The sheets were in a tussle, and poking out from under them was a huge wet stain. She checked her overnight diaper, waterlogged and misaligned. A trail of pee along her inner thigh marked where the leak had occurred.
“Ohmygosh, Kyle, I’m so sorry! You just changed these sheets last night.”
“Sweetheart, it’s not your fault.” He brushed his hand tenderly down her arm. “It’s actually kind of…cute.”
* * *
When Courtney arrived home that morning, she had already made up her mind—the night’s events confirmed it. She would train herself to pee in the toilet, like the women in Dr. Wolcott’s experiment.
The question was how. She sat at her computer, searching for advice. The terms “adult female toilet-training” or any variation pulled up nothing. Finally she clicked on a parent’s guide for potty-training a male toddler. The site gave several useful ideas, like keeping the potty close at hand and recording in a journal any successes or failures at using it. She didn’t own one, obviously, but the bathroom was only fifteen feet from her desk—close enough, she hoped.
Courtney removed her wet diaper and stared at the toilet. Wow, she was really doing this. She touched the white porcelain bowl, cold and intimidating. She had used one before, of course—but peeing in it at will? All her life, the world assumed her incapable of that. To do so now felt like transgressing into a forbidden land.
She knew that men used it standing, facing forward like she was now, but as she peered down at the slit nestled between her legs, she questioned whether that would work for her. So she stepped forward and straddled the bowl, but that felt awkward and uncomfortable. Finally she turned and sat.
And sat and sat. She spread her legs open and closed, trying to work out which muscles would cause herself to pee voluntarily. She could not recall the last time she attempted this—perhaps before a family road trip? Soon it was clear nothing was happening. She vaguely remembered wetting just now on the way home—maybe that was why?
Her eye then fell on the large cabinet that stored her diapers, and she pondered the next question: Should she put a new one on or try this cold-turkey? The site suggested leaving it off, to keep the toddler (or her, in this case) from mindlessly peeing in it. She gazed again at the orifice that refused to obey her commands. To leave it naked frightened her, especially after last night. She would play it safe, for now. So she fastened a diaper with nothing on over it, to simplify the steps involved in peeing.
Then she sat at her desk, resolving to try going again in a little while. She opened a new file and wrote:
“10:12 AM – Toilet attempt, unsuccessful.”
Now what? To pass the time, she resumed her search for anything more about the mysterious Dr. Wolcott. The first hit was a new video from the same cable channel as before.
~ ~
“We end tonight with letters from you, our viewers,” said the balding announcer. “Many of you wrote in about Kate’s interview with Jane Wolcott.
“Emily from Dallas writes, ‘I would love to believe her, but the evidence is not in her favor. Our two sons both toilet-trained as toddlers, but their younger sister—now in her teens—wears diapers 24/7 out of necessity. The few times she rebelled ended in very wet clothes. Don’t be filling her head with crazy ideas!’
“And Alexa from Kansas writes, ‘What’s next? Will women start ditching their bras?’
“Read more on our website. Good night to you all.”
~ ~
A URL popped onto the screen as the video ended, leading to the channel’s homepage. Dozens of dismissive comments filled the screen, some bordering on ridicule. Then, at the very bottom, was one from Allison Diaz: “I studied with Dr. Wolcott before practicing urology. Her views have merit—I do not believe women are necessarily incontinent from birth.”
Several replies followed, starting with Big Johnson: “Come test your theory in my bed, and I’ll lick up the mess!”
Courtney stopped reading there. She was about to enter Diaz’s name into the search bar when she felt her diaper grow warm. Darn it, this was not starting well! She clicked on her new file and wrote:
“10:48 AM – Diaper wetting.”
Then she trudged to the bathroom to reset and try again. Propped up against the pillows at the head of the changing table, she peered yet again at the problematic area. Out of habit, she had already placed a new diaper there between her legs, lest she wet herself again while cleaning off. She took a deep breath. Maybe the parent’s guide had it right… She refolded the diaper and returned it to the stack. Then she walked back to her desk, naked from the waist down, resisting the urge to slip her hand between her legs on the off chance she leaked. Don’t be silly, Courtney, you just went! She spread out a towel on her chair and sat.
Courtney typed in “Allison Diaz urologist,” the first hit sending her to a clinic homepage. Then she did a double take. Dr. Diaz practiced in the next town over, just twenty minutes away! She took a screenshot and planned to call during business hours.
When no other leads came up, Courtney sighed and opened the slides for work. Maybe her boss would let her answer a client question tomorrow? Unlikely, but still better to prepare. After a while, she glanced at her phone: Nearly an hour had gone by. She peered down. Did she feel anything yet? What was it even supposed to feel like? To be safe, she marched back to the toilet but produced not a drop. Maybe I’m dehydrated, she thought. She filled a glass at the sink and gulped it down.
“11:43 AM – Toilet attempt, unsuccessful.”
Courtney then returned to her slides. Maybe Mr. Mills would call in sick. She imagined herself prancing into the conference room. “Good morning, gentlemen. I’ll be giving the presentation today. I think you’ll love this new line of women’s athleticwear!” At the fifth slide, the room burst into applause, just like in her dream. She smoothed out her slick business suit, the one that so perfectly camouflaged her diaper lines. Her diaper—ohmygosh!
Courtney’s eyes shot open, as her hand flew to her crotch. Ohmygosh, ohmygosh! She rose on unsteady feet and hobbled towards the bathroom. Almost there, you can do this, girl… But she couldn’t. The stream began just as she passed through the doorway, spraying wildly with each step. By the time she reached the toilet, it had already slowed to a trickle. She sat down, hearing a few satisfying drops land in the bowl. Count that as a small victory? Maybe?
She lay back on the changing table and wiped down her legs. Then she instinctively reached for a diaper. Wait, no. She would not give up just yet. Hands on her hips, she marched off to the closet, unprotected, to retrieve a mop. The cool breeze between her legs still felt unnerving, but perhaps a bit less so than before. Once satisfied with the cleanliness of the tile floor, she pondered what to write in her log. Finally she entered “11:58 PM. Floor wetting”—unsure how else to phrase it.
Courtney gazed at the first four entries. Clearly this wasn’t working—either she tried peeing too early or else waited too long—it was so hard to predict! She returned to the parents’ guide for advice.
“A potty timer can help remind the forgetful or distracted child to go at regular intervals.”
A timer—of course! She remembered Dr. Wolcott mentioning that as well. She set the one on her phone for an hour—no, better make it 45 minutes. Then she settled down on her bed for some Netflix.
“Ha!” she shouted when the timer buzzed. The towel beneath her was dry as a bone. She walked to the toilet again and sat. Her smiled soon faded, though. Ugh, what was she doing wrong? After several minutes of producing nothing, she returned to the bedroom and flicked on the news.
~ ~
“More protests downtown yesterday,” said the young male anchor. “The cause? Gender equity in parks and theatres. Activists want more changing tables installed. They claim the lines are too long to make it in and out during intermission.
“We spoke to Miss Callie Peterson, who attended the rally: ‘It just takes us longer—wiping off and such. Plus there’s like, twice as many urinals in the guys’ room as there are changing tables in ours. That’s probably why the lines are so much longer. You see it and you’re like, “I’d miss the whole second half!” So you end up sitting through it wet.’
“But the Parks Department is refusing to budge. A spokesman said, ‘We support equitable facilities. But should your tax dollars go towards fancy changing rooms when women are already wearing protection? Here’s a cheaper solution: buy thicker diapers.’”
~ ~
Just then, Courtney felt warm liquid puddling beneath her. Jeez, no warning at all this time? She glanced at her phone: Not ten minutes had elapsed. Why couldn’t she go on the toilet just now?
After several more accidents, Courtney had had enough. How was this even possible if her bladder gave so little warning—and if when she did feel it coming, she had no ability to stop it? She fastened a diaper around her hips in defeat.
* * *
On Monday morning, Courtney stood at the conference table, serving coffee to all their best clients while everyone waited for Mr. Mills to arrive.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” he said as he entered. “I think you’ll be very excited by this new line of women’s athleticwear…”
Of course he didn’t ask her to give the presentation. He would never show her that kind of respect. She settled in at the far end of the table, sipping coffee while her boss presented her slides as his own. By the midway mark, she noticed her cup was empty. Coffee was never a girl’s best friend, but the soothing taste helped alleviate her frustration. She poured herself another.
As she watched the hot liquid fill the cup, her bladder released a long, heavy stream into her diaper, quite nearly filling it. Fantastic. Now she’d have to sit through the rest of the meeting with a wet bottom. Discreetly as possible, she reached under the table and felt around. No leaks, thank goodness. See? She could have “made it through.” What were diapers for, anyway?
The presentation marched on. “And so,” Mr. Mills concluded, “with this new line, we can expect vast new streams of revenue. Thank you for joining us.”
The room erupted in applause, and Courtney felt another sharp pressure in her groin. Oh, not again! But she could do nothing to prevent her diaper from filling even further.
“Courtney, do you have anything to add?” asked Mr. Mills.
“Hmm?” She peered up from her empty coffee mug, trying to form a sentence, but all she could think of was whether her diaper had just leaked all over her skirt. “Uhh…I think you covered everything.” Great, now she sounded like an airhead.
Mr. Mills led the clients to the lobby for wine and cheese, but Courtney stayed plastered to her seat. She noticed one client hang back, the sole woman in the crowd.
“Are you alright, miss?” The lady asked when everyone else was gone.
Courtney lifted her butt off the chair and glanced beneath. Sure enough, a small puddle had formed. “Um, no…not really,” she muttered.
“Here’s some paper towel,” the lady said, handing Courtney a wad.
“Thank you,” said Courtney, her face flush.
“Leather is magic, see? The chair looks good as new.”
“I wish the same could be said of my skirt.” Courtney managed half a smile.
“We’ve all been there, hon. Do you have a change of clothes?”
Courtney sighed. “Nope, but the office girls keep a blow dryer in the changing room. Think I could…?”
“Honestly, it’s not that visible. Black is also magic. I bet you could make it there undetected.”
“Fingers crossed.”
“Want my advice? Lay off the coffee, girl.”
Courtney shuffled off to the changing room, careful so as not to drip on the floor. She passed a few coworkers, but none seemed to notice her calamity—or so she prayed. At last, she opened the door to see Krystal at the sink in only a blouse and diaper, blow drying her designer slacks.
“Stupid, cheap-ass diaper…” Krystal muttered. “Oh, hey! How’d the presentation go?”
Courtney frowned.
“That bad, huh? Um, do these look okay to you? I think they’re finally dry.”
Courtney nodded. Then she stammered, “Hey, can I use that when you’re done?”
* * *
Late that afternoon, Courtney sat at her computer, feeling dejected. Her quest for bladder independence had hit an insurmountable wall. Yesterday she couldn’t make it fifteen feet to the toilet. Today she couldn’t even sit through a client presentation without wetting her clothes. Mr. Mills was probably wise to present it himself.
She Googled “female bladder control” and clicked on the top hit.
“Managing Female Incontinence: A Guide for Parents and Daughters, by Andrew Young, M.D.”
Intrigued, Courtney read on.
“By his third or fourth year, a young boy will have mastered the use of the toilet. He will know when he needs to go and can hold it until he gets there. A girl, on the other hand, will never master this seemingly simple task, for her gender lacks the necessary bladder awareness and control. She will remain incontinent for her entire life.
“Parents should therefore never expect more than their daughter can realistically achieve. If she pees on the floor before bath time, do not scold her for it; leave her diaper on longer before placing her in the tub. If she attempts to copy how her older brother pees in the toilet, gently reminder her that little girls use diapers instead. Most important, never ever attempt to potty-train her, as her inevitable failure will only magnify her feelings of inadequacy.
“As she grows older, her dependence on diapers may embarrass or frustrate her. Boys may tease her for it. She may fear longer outings with limited opportunities to change. Kindly reassure her that she has nothing to be ashamed of, and help her remember to keep plenty of supplies at hand. That said, accidents are bound to happen. Her diaper may leak—at night or even in the daytime. Or she may find herself without protection and wet her clothes. In these scary moments, show her kindness, never consternation, and help her problem-solve to avoid a repeat incident.
“By adolescence, most girls will have accepted their incontinence as a fact of life and learned to deal with it. Yet they will also encounter new challenges. As her urinary system matures, a teenage girl will start to wet more frequently, especially during physical activity. A sports diaper can help in this regard, but she still may shy away from athletics around this time. She might also recoil from activities like debate club or student government, for fear of leaking at a public event. Be sympathetic to her reasons, and never push her beyond her comfort level.
“In summary, a girl can enjoy a comfortable and fulfilling life, albeit one in diapers. With proper guidance and support, she can learn to manage her incontinence.”
As she finished reading, Courtney’s life flashed through her mind. She could see herself in every one of those paragraphs—the little girl scolded for ever removing her diaper, the schoolgirl teased by boys on the playground, the high schooler too scared of leaking to join the show choir, despite her gorgeous voice.
And now here she was, the talented market researcher afraid of confronting her sexist boss, but even more afraid of what would happen if he said yes. She glanced at her expensive skirt, hanging in the bathroom after she had rinsed it out. She gazed at the deep creases that her diaper formed in the fabric of her leggings, the ones she’d slid on after finally getting to shower.
To hell with Andrew Young. To hell with “managing” her incontinence. She clutched her phone and dialed the number for Dr. Allison Diaz. |
Chapter 4. A Prophecy Foretold
Courtney placed her toilet aspirations on hold while she awaited the doctor’s advice. On Sunday, Kyle had checked the sheets and announced condescendingly, “All dry this morning—nice, sweetie!” To her, he had almost seemed disappointed. Well, he better get used to it.
Now she sat waiting in the examination room, staring at all the scary equipment. Most of it looked similar to the gynecologist’s, with stirrups and a swiveling funnel and—she averted her eyes.
At last the door swung open, and in walked a tall blonde lady in a white lab coat. “Allison Diaz,” she said, extending her hand. “So what can I help you with today, Courtney?”
“Um…with my incontinence?”
“Okay…what about it, specifically?” asked the doctor.
Maybe she should have planned this better. “Well…” Courtney began, “I had three accidents last week. One during sex, one at night, and one at an important work meeting.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Accidents can be unnerving.”
“I mean, my boyfriend understands, and I hid it well at work, so it wasn’t, like, catastrophic or anything. But it’s still kind of humiliating. Is there…anything you can recommend?”
Diaz answered as if on autopilot: “Complete urinary incontinence is the norm for women and has no medically proven treatment. Have you considered investing in better diapers? Our office has several brands we recommend.”
“I already spend a fortune on diapers. The ones I wear get good reviews online and work about as well as can be expected. I just don’t…want to have to wear them.” There, she said it.
Diaz sighed. “None of us do, I suppose. So, is there anything else I can help you with?”
Courtney shook her head, feeling foolish for wasting the doctor’s time. And she practically had to beg Mr. Mills for the morning off—all for nothing, apparently. Dr. Diaz smiled warmly and started walking towards the door.
“Wait,” said Courtney. “Did you study with Dr. Jane Wolcott?”
The doctor froze. “Where did you hear that name?” she asked in a hushed voice.
“From an article she wrote—‘A Self-Fulfilling Prophecy.’ I only saw the title—the full-text was restricted for some reason. But I found an interview she did on TV, and then I saw your comment on the discussion board.”
“Hmm, sounds like the cat’s out of the bag. Can you keep a secret, Courtney?”
“Scout’s honor.”
Allison Diaz sat down next to her. “Jane was my doctoral advisor. When I arrived at the university, she was still an assistant professor, chasing corporate dollars. She assigned me to a project on diaper absorbency. Even then, she was trying to improve the lives of women. If they had more confidence in the effectiveness of their diapers, Jane thought they might have more confidence in themselves.”
Courtney nodded.
“But it soon grew clear that our corporate sponsors had no interest in improving their products. They just wanted our research to show they outperformed other brands. Think about it, do companies really want to design a longer-lasting daytime diaper? No, they want women changing as often as possible, to maximize sales. But Jane put on a face and brought in tons of grant money.
“When the university awarded her tenure, everything changed. She dropped her corporate sponsors and began asking more fundamental questions about female incontinence. It started small: Jane thought if women could direct at least some of their urine into the toilet, then maybe their diapers would stay dryer for longer. We began a proof-of-concept study, but our participants struggled—many had never tried to pee voluntarily before, ever.”
“Ohmygosh, that’s what happened to me!” Courtney blurted out.
“Wait, what?”
“Oh, uh…maybe I should have told you this sooner. I tried using a potty timer last week, but I couldn’t make it work.”
“You tried to toilet-train?”
“Briefly, yes, after watching Jane’s interview.”
“But it didn’t go so well?”
“There was a lot of…mopping involved.” Courtney frowned. “So what happened with your experiment?”
“Some of the women made progress, others didn’t. The biggest outcome was to whet Jane’s appetite. She started hunting for anything she could find on female incontinence. But search after search turned up empty. Apparently, either no one finds it worth studying, or no one’s willing to fund it.”
“Or some combination,” Courtney added.
“Exactly. But her exhaustive review led to one crucial finding: that the standard account lacks evidence behind it. It’s more myth than science. One day Jane looked up from her screen, turned to me, and asked, ‘Could women learn to direct all of their urine into the toilet? Could they ditch their diapers altogether?’ The next few months were a flurry of activity—writing grant proposals, recruiting participants, and conducting the first-ever study of female toilet-training.”
“Jane mentioned that in the video,” said Courtney, “but she said the funding dried up.”
“Well, that’s half true. In fact, it was the human subjects board that pulled the plug. They claimed the study was causing the participants undo stress, with too small a chance of long-term benefit. Jane appealed, but she lost her case, and the study ended with no definitive results. Since then, no funding agency has been willing to touch the topic.”
“So that’s it? We’ll never know?”
“That was the end of Jane’s research, but not of the story, itself. Based on her notes and preliminary findings, she published the speculative article you saw. It sparked a torrent of interest, especially among female urologists. Even a few local news channels picked up the story. Then came the hate mail. The lewd, demeaning comments on discussion boards. Rightwing groups demanding that Jane be fired. And then the journal editors informed us that they were rescinding her article, on the grounds that it ‘lacked substantiated evidence.’ After that, Jane’s work was purged from all the major databases. No one will ever see it online again.”
“That’s so awful,” said Courtney.
“Thankfully, tenure protected Jane from being fired. But the university bowed to the rightwing media and refused to defend her work. As the hate mail accumulated, Jane began to fear for her personal safety. She stopped taking interviews. She withdrew from public life. Jane confided that she thought the diaper industry had orchestrated her downfall. But I’m not so sure. The motive for keeping women in diapers extends far beyond just those who sell them. It’s the lynchpin of our patriarchal society. The world isn’t ready to listen to Jane Wolcott.”
Courtney struggled to take all this in. “So the self-fulfilling prophecy is true, then?”
“Truth is a complicated word in science. Suffice it to say that the standard explanation rests on flimsy ground. Whether Jane’s theory is any better remains to be seen.”
“Well, what do you think?”
“Personally, I believe her.”
“I wish I could have read the essay before it got taken offline,” Courtney mused.
Allison smiled. She unlocked the top drawer of her desk and said, “Remember this stuff? It’s called ‘paper.’” She handed Courtney a stapled pamphlet.
Courtney read the title out loud: “A self-fulfilling prophecy.”
“Happy reading,” said the doctor. “In the meantime, how about that urological exam?”
“Oh yeah, that.” Courtney glanced back at the scary equipment. “Maybe we could skip that part?”
Allison laughed. “Come on, let’s see what we’re up against. Is your diaper dry?”
“I changed it before you came in.”
“Great. And how long before that did you wet it?”
“Um, I don’t remember?” It wasn’t something she normally thought about.
“Alright. Here, drink this bottle of lemonade. I’d like to test your bladder function.”
Courtney gulped it down.
“Ready?” The doctor beckoned at the examination chair.
Courtney took a deep breath. She removed her skirt, walked over, and placed her legs in the stirrups.
“I have your height listed at 5’4”, weight: 135, age: 26. Sound correct?”
“Mm hmm.”
“Okay, shall we remove your diaper now?”
Courtney nodded hesitantly. She undid the tapes and lifted her hips to allow Dr. Diaz to slide it off. She felt a rush of fear, and then relief as the doctor positioned the swiveling funnel against her vulva. A strap was tightened around her waist, and another high-up around each thigh, holding her flush against the funnel.
“How does that feel? Secure enough against your skin?” Allison asked.
“I guess so?”
“Well, it won’t catch every drop—but neither does a diaper, right?”
Courtney half-smiled.
“I saw you get nervous when we removed yours.”
“Yeah,” said Courtney.
“So tell me: If you went without protection with a toilet close by, how confident are you that you could avoid an accident—very confident, somewhat confident, or not confident at all?”
“Um, not confident at all.”
“How many diapers do you go through in a day?”
“Like five or six?”
“And how often do you leak when you sneeze, cough, or exert yourself physically—very often, somewhat often, rarely, or never?”
“Um, very often,” said Courtney.
Diaz jotted down some notes. “Okay, let’s test this funnel out. Can you cough for me?”
Courtney coughed. Normally she would feel moisture in her diaper from that, but without one she couldn’t tell. “Did I…?”
“Yup, you leaked some into the funnel. Okay, now I’m going to swivel this down for your examination. If you feel yourself starting to go, just holler and we’ll swivel it right back up.”
“Okay,” said Courtney, feeling nervous again as cool air graced her vulva.
“This might hurt just a bit,” said Allison. Courtney felt something slide inside her. “We’re going to measure the strength of your pelvic floor muscles. Can you clench against this diode I just inserted?”
“Like this?” she pressed her thighs together as best she could in the stirrups.
“No, not with your legs. Internally, I mean.”
Courtney felt around down there with her mind. “Um, how?”
“Not happening, hmm?”
“Is that bad?”
“Well, you’re not alone—trust me. Answer me this: How much advanced warning do you get before you urinate—a whole lot, some, or hardly any?”
“Hardly any at all.”
“And can you ever delay or prevent urination?”
“No, I can’t—ohmygosh!”
Quick as a fox, Allison slid the instrument out and flipped the funnel back into place. “Okay, Courtney, try to hold it back as long as you can for me, alright?”
“Okay—ooh, ooohhh.” She heard pee splatter against the funnel.
“Well, that confirms what you said just now. Here’s a wet-wipe.” The doctor flipped the funnel back down to let her clean herself off.
After Courtney finished, she asked, “Can you flip it back up? I can’t reach it.”
“Sure,” said the doctor.
Courtney collected herself. “So what’s your diagnosis?”
“Well, severe mixed incontinence. But that sounds worse than it is, considering every woman I’ve examined presents the same way. Jane would say that your urethral sphincter has become paralyzed from lack of use. That’s why the potty timer didn’t work.”
“So…I’m worse off than a three-year-old toddler?”
Allison looked straight at Courtney. “Essentially, yes. But I wouldn’t give up hope just yet. We can try to rehabilitate your sphincter. If you can build back enough strength, then it becomes a matter of learning to heed your body’s signals—and remembering to go.”
“Okay,” Courtney said slowly. All this sounded really difficult. “Do you…know my chances of success?”
“Let’s just hope for the best.”
* * *
Courtney arrived home from work that day jittery with excitement. She checked her diaper: damp but not truly wet—that in-between state where changing it felt like wasting money. She glanced at the package Allison had given her. She was too eager to open it to change now, anyway.
Courtney lifted the lid and peered inside. Dominating the space was a stack of women’s pull-ups in various colors, just like the ones from Jane’s video. It made sense, given the package was originally intended for participants in the toilet-training experiment. Courtney examined one, noting how thin the padding felt.
As she lifted the next item from the bag, a broad grin crossed her face. This had no padding at all, just delicate nylon with touches of lace around the edges and cotton lining the gusset. There were three—a black one, a white one, and this one in a rosy pink—three pairs of women’s underwear.
She locked the bedroom door—not that she was expecting anyone, but because this had the naughty feel of trying on items from a sex shop. She lay back on her bed and removed her skirt and diaper. After dabbing herself clean, she slid the underwear up her legs till they rested snugly around her hips. Then she stood at the full-length mirror.
The top she wore obscured the garment slightly, so she stripped down to just her bra and…panties. She borrowed the word the newscaster had used, as “underwear” felt too stuffy. She turned in the mirror, admiring the smooth lines of her silhouette. Without external padding, her curvy hips and rear looked more in proportion, like she had just lost five pounds. The lace pattern didn’t match her bra as well as her diapers did, but the colors aligned well enough. Overall, she felt gorgeous.
Then her gaze fell to her groin, covered in nothing but the thinnest cotton. And with that, her fantasy bubble burst, leaving her shy and exposed, like a girl caught raiding her mother’s lingerie chest. She shouldn’t be wearing these; she could wet them at any moment. Her hand cupped her crotch protectively as she retreated to the bed where her diaper lay.
Her fingers recoiled, though, when she touched the damp padding, grown ice-cold from the bedroom air. She must have wet it worse than she thought. She was about to retrieve another when the final item in the package caught her eye: a long, white object like the one Allison had slipped inside her. Courtney switched it on, half expecting it to vibrate, but instead the word “Ready” displayed in glowing letters.
Courtney knew what to do next. Lying atop an absorbent towel, she removed the panties and spread her legs wide. Then she pushed the long, rounded end inside. She shut her eyes and tried with all her might to squeeze her pelvic floor. She tried again, and again, but nothing happened. Finally she removed the object and gazed dejectedly at the number “0” on the screen. Sighing, she removed a diaper from the drawer of her nightstand. Well, she had gone nearly ten minutes unprotected without causing a mess. That was something, right?
She retrieved the pamphlet Allison had given her and snuggled under the covers for some bedtime reading.
* * *
Wolcott, J. (2020). A self-fulfilling prophecy? An environmental theory of female urinary incontinence.
Most people believe that incontinence in women derives from the lack of a penis. Popular culture promotes this myth; even school health textbooks promote it. The reality, of course, is more complicated. As a man’s bladder fills, messages are sent to his brain indicating a growing need to urinate. Yet he can still keep the valve closed without much effort. If he wishes to pee, he relaxes his urethral sphincter, which signals the bladder to contract, forcing the urine out. Otherwise, he simply holds on till a convenient time. Only when his bladder approaches very high capacity does he begin to feel more desperate—and even then, he almost never voids involuntarily. He finds an acceptable place and urinates there.
The picture is quite different for women. The same nerves surrounding the bladder are present, but the signals they send get interpreted differently, or perhaps not at all. When asked, the typical man can gauge his bladder’s fullness; a woman typically has no idea. Furthermore, although a woman’s sphincter holds her urethra closed at most times, these muscles are smaller and much weaker than a man’s. When prompted, most women cannot flex them, and when stimulated artificially, they produce only the faintest contraction.
Thus, women do not sense the need to urinate, nor can they delay its occurrence. When a woman’s bladder fills to a certain point, her sphincter opens and her bladder empties, causing a wetting. Women often report feeling a mounting pressure just beforehand, but rarely more than a few seconds—hardly enough time to reach a toilet or even to remove her clothes. This is called urgency incontinence and explains her reliance on diapers.
The flaccid state of the female sphincter also explains the common leaks she experiences when anything presses against her bladder—a cough, a laugh, vigorous exercise, all push out small amounts of urine. This is called stress incontinence and contributes to her need for constant protection.
Finally, the female bladder, itself, is smaller and less elastic. Whereas a man’s can hold several hours’ worth of urine, a woman’s fills within an hour or two. If she changed after each daytime wetting, she might go through 8–12 diapers a day. Of course, most find it inconvenient (or too expensive) to change that often, and so wear the same diaper for longer before changing it. As adult wettings tend to be small, this practice will not overflow most brands; it does, however, condition women to near constant moisture, decreasing their awareness of stress-induced leaks.
It is these factors combined, and not the lack of a penis, that produce the severe form of mixed incontinence seen in all adult women.
The question is, why do these sex-based differences exist? Canonical science assumes them to be innate. But if that were so, certain developmental observations are hard to explain. For example, bladder size in male and female infants is virtually identical, and expands in both genders through age 10. A girl that age can often stay dry for three or four hours, during which time her mother might wet twice or more.
In adolescence, male capacity continues to expand, but, oddly, female capacity declines. By the age of 16, a girl might find herself unable to last more than a couple hours between wettings. This helps explain the frequent stories of teenage girls running out of supplies and thinking they can make it home or to the store without protection, only to experience an embarrassing accident. Many don’t realize just how much their bladder capacity has diminished since childhood.
Furthermore, young girls seem more cognizant of the state of their bladders than adult women are. They may claim, “Mom, I need to pee, but my diaper’s already full.” Or they even ask to try using the toilet (e.g., after watching a male sibling do so). It is unknown whether prepubescent girls can shut their sphincter voluntarily, but anecdotal evidence suggests they can. Very young ones have been known run around the house naked without causing a mess, while a girl as old as 12 might strut about in only a towel after bathing, confident she could retrieve a diaper—or even run to the toilet—if she felt a sudden urge.
We also know that stress incontinence, as a rule, does not arrive until puberty. In popular culture, the onset of these leaks marks a sign of maturity, like a girl’s first bra or period. She will notice she now gets wetter more quickly during exercise and will purchase athletic diapers to compensate. (It’s no accident that free samples come packaged with teen-style sports bras.) She will notice that exhilarating or stressful experiences now cause wetness—chalked up by popular culture as the result of raging hormones.
The medical establishment assumes these changes to be perfectly normal—that the onset of female puberty stimulates the development of the “mature” urinary system. But why would girls naturally become more incontinent as they grow older? What could possibly be the evolutionary advantage? Here I advance an alternative, environmental theory.
Consider children’s early upbringing. Parents will potty-train their son at 2 or 3, while they keep their same-aged daughter in diapers. As her capacity and control naturally increase, her efforts to choose when and where to pee are met with dismissal, even ridicule. Many a loving and devoted mother, knowing their own degree of incontinence, will try to dissuade their daughters from ever attempting to pee in the toilet, so as not to build up false hope. When a little boy has an accident, he gets encouragement and a pat on the back; when a girl has one, it confirms her need for diapers in the eyes of the world.
These environmental factors produce, first psychological effects, and then physical ones. With no reason to monitor the state of her bladder, a girl’s ability to do so plateaus. At age ten, she might physically be capable of walking to the toilet, sitting down, and peeing in it, but psychologically, she cannot do this consistently. Girls this age are known to try it—e.g., to challenge parental expectations—but often they wet themselves before realizing they had to go. Like a male toddler in pull-ups, her mind forgets to heed her bladder’s warnings.
Because girls’ incontinence is primarily psychological at this stage, established methods of toilet-training could quite possibly correct it—e.g. use of a “potty timer,” or keeping a potty, itself, close at hand. I see no reason why such techniques would be any less effective with girls than they are with young boys.
The social reality, though, is that girls are not encouraged to toilet-train; they are actively discouraged from even trying. This leads us to the final chapter in our story. “Use it or lose it,” the saying goes—and nowhere is this truer than with the female urinary system. Notwithstanding the occasional act of experimentation, a young girl in diapers has little cause to squeeze shut her urethral sphincter to delay a wetting. After years of disuse, these muscles begin to atrophy, causing wettings to feel more sudden and unpreventable, and setting a vicious cycle in motion.
The onset of stress incontinence marks the next step in this downward spiral. As noted above, these leaks typically begin in early adolescence and worsen over time. As a girl’s physical ability to hold in urine diminishes, she grows ever more reliant on external protection. A day comes when she cannot remember the last time she registered an impending need to urinate; wettings now happen randomly without warning.
In males, longer periods of holding—particularly at night—help maintain the bladder’s elasticity. In teenage girls, the sphincter has grown too weak to prevent the bladder from emptying prematurely. At night, for example, they may wet three times or more. This lack of “exercise,” if you will, explains the decline in female bladder capacity seen in adolescence, and the smaller, more frequent wettings that result.
These psychological and physical changes plot the course towards “mature” female incontinence. By way of example, in her late teens a girl will experience her first accident on the way from the shower to the changing table. After that, she will start placing a spare diaper outside the shower that she can fasten immediately after bathing. A bit later, she will suffer her first accident in the midst of changing, and will start laying a new diaper beneath her on the changing pad before removing her old one. This way, she avoids even a few moments without protection. By age twenty, most women shudder at the thought of going unprotected for any length of time at all.
In sum, female urinary incontinence may truly be a self-fulfilling prophecy: What began with her unnecessary relegation to diapers ends with her total dependence on them.
Looking forward, this means that toilet-training will be far more difficult for a grown woman than it would have been as a child. She would have to retrain her urethral sphincter to contract on demand, and build back enough muscle tone to prevent both leaks and full-on wettings. She would have to relearn to gauge the state of her bladder. Strategies such as a voiding diary or timed urination might then help her transition from wetting her diaper to peeing in a toilet. No one knows if this is achievable, but we never will unless we try.
* * *
Courtney set the article down, her mind ablaze. It all made sense now: wetting the bed more often, leaking during exercise, feeling her control gradually slip away. None of it was inevitable, after all. She felt profoundly cheated, but at the same time, hopeful. She removed her diaper (still dry!) and inserted the instrument once again…
After several minutes, she squealed in frustration. Okay, Courtney, concentrate. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep. Still nothing. She tried moving the object around—maybe she had it in the wrong spot?
And then she felt it: a slight, involuntary spasm like what might occur during sex. She removed the instrument and grinned with satisfaction at the screen that read “1.” |
Chapter 5. Potty-Training, Take Two
Each night Courtney practiced her pelvic floor exercises. By week’s end, she could reproduce Monday’s result with some consistency, but voluntary contraction still eluded her. That part of her body felt so disconnected from her mind that she might as easily lifted a spoon through telekinesis.
Until one day, it happened—at work of all places. She’d been practicing behind her desk, searching and searching for that lost neural connection—when, miraculously, it fired. The faintest tremor, but she felt it plain and clear.
“Got all that, Courtney? On my desk by 10:00 tomorrow.”
“Hmm? Oh…of course, sir.” She tried squeezing again, but now it escaped her. Darn it!
At home that night, though, she hit upon it again, and then a third time shortly after. She had it cornered now, exposed with nowhere to hide. She squeezed again, more meekly this time, as her muscles had grown fatigued. No matter—now she could exercise them whenever she liked. By Friday, the instrument displayed a “2” for the first time, and she called Allison with the exciting news.
“That’s fantastic, Courtney! Keep at it, and it should improve a lot more. In the meantime, I feel you’re ready for the next step.”
“Pull-ups?”
“Exactly. Set a timer like you did before, and be sure to sit on the toilet even if you feel no urge to go.”
“Okay.”
“And if you feel the urge when you’re not sitting on it, use those pelvic muscles to hold on as long as you can. Even if it’s just for a few seconds, that’s progress.”
“Right.”
“I know you’ll do great, Courtney! Talk soon, okay?”
“Wait—I have a question.” She thought of her first failed attempt at this.
“Yes?”
“How do I…pee on the toilet?”
* * *
Courtney drank a tall glass of water like Allison suggested. Then she pranced to the bathroom cabinet where she had stashed the pull-ups. She picked out a white one and lay back on the changing table to remove her newly wet diaper. There she paused. How would she manage this in front of Kyle? He was coming by for dinner in an hour.
The unspoken rules of diaper etiquette flashed through her mind, ingrained through her years of growing up female:
A lady never lets her diaper show. Everyone knows you’re wearing one, but don’t make it obvious. Disguise your ruffles with a flowy skirt, dark colors, or structured denim.
A lady never lets anyone know. When you wet, be discrete about it, and don’t let it distract you from what you were saying or doing. Carry on as if nothing occurred.
A lady always waits her turn. Never change when it would inconvenience others. Wait till the end of a meal or show—and in the case of a single facility, let men go first.
The rules seemed silly sometimes, but when everyone around you followed them and expected you to as well, flouting them wasn’t so easy.
Well, the first caused no issue for Courtney. The pull-ups were thinner than any pair of diapers she owned and would hardly show through. As for the second rule, she had long since trained herself to wet discreetly. It took discipline, but no more so in a pull-up than in a diaper, it would seem. The third rule proved trickier, as her timer would surely go off during dinner.
Maybe she should wait to try this when Kyle wasn’t around? They’d been spending most weekends together, though, recently—her only real opportunity to practice. Perhaps she should just tell him the truth. He would understand, wouldn’t he? So she slid on the pull-up and set her timer for 45 minutes. Then she set to work in the kitchen.
Courtney mixed together a salad and fried some potatoes. She was about to put the lambchops in the oven when her timer buzzed. Well, that’s inconvenient. She would have to drop what she was doing just to go pee? She considered waiting until she had finished cooking. No, better not push her luck. Who knew how much longer she would stay dry?
At the toilet, she hiked up her skirt and slid the pull-up down her thighs. Wow, so much easier than fiddling with the tapes on a diaper! Then she sat down and tried to relax. She pictured a garden sprinkler, water filling the bath, and the rest of Allison’s suggestions, but nothing worked. Come on, Courtney, pee now or you’ll flood your pull-up at dinner…and with that thought, a small tinkle sounded. Holy cow, she did it!
When the trickle ceased, she stood and reached for her pull-up, but felt a drip grace her hand. Now exposed to the cool bathroom air, her entire vulva and parts of her fanny felt wet. Did guys have to wipe after peeing in the toilet? She did, apparently. Oh well, still simpler than cleaning up after a wet diaper.
* * *
“Hello beautiful,” said Kyle as she opened the door. He hugged her tight, his hand trailing down below her waist as it often did, causing a slight crinkle.
Courtney wondered if the pull-up sounded any different than a diaper. “I made lambchops,” she announced.
“They smell amazing. Here, we’ll have them with this.” He held up a bottle of wine.
“Yay! I’ll go chill it. Hey, I need to tell you something before we eat.”
“What is it, sweetheart?”
She gazed into his pretty eyes. “I…uh…am so excited about our dinner together!”
Kyle smiled. “Me too! Shall we?” He beckoned towards the kitchen.
Okay, so maybe she wouldn’t be telling him quite yet. Reaching into her pocket, Courtney switched her phone to vibrate.
They sat down at the table and started enjoying the meal. A few minutes into it, Kyle said, “These lambchops are amazing. What did you put on them?”
“Rosemary.” Just then, Courtney’s hip vibrated. “Sorry, will you excuse me for a minute?”
He looked at her quizzically. “Uh, sure.”
She headed to the bathroom and sat on the toilet once again. She checked her pull-up: still dry. A minute passed, but nothing happened. How long did it normally take to change? Not much longer than this, she imagined. She tried for another minute, but she could think only of Kyle waiting out there impatiently, which made it even harder to pee. Finally she gave up.
“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” she said, returning to the table.
“Oh…no problem.”
The meal continued, with Kyle soon describing an issue he encountered at work. “We ended up having to reboot the whole system…”
At that moment, Courtney felt a strong pressure build. Here it comes. For the first time in recent memory, she pushed back against it deliberately. She actually felt the muscles clench—she was doing this!
“…turns out it was a hardware problem all along…”
Courtney nodded. But the pressure continued to mount, exerting unbearable force against her quickly tiring muscles.
“…we tried rewiring the thing, but that didn’t work either. Courtney, are you even listening?”
“Mm hmm.” Her efforts collapsed, and she felt her pull-up grow warm. She tried her best to hide the look of relief that crossed her face.
“So that’s where it stands,” said Kyle. “I’ll troubleshoot it again on Monday.”
“That’s crazy,” said Courtney, feigning comprehension. “So, ready for dessert?”
“You baked?”
“Nah.” She walked to the refrigerator, her saturated pull-up squishing between her thighs. “I bought these, though!” She placed a white box on the table.
“Éclairs? No way!”
“Way.”
Kyle poured them another glass of wine. Courtney sipped it slowly as she ate, conscious of the state of her pull-up. Finally her hip vibrated again.
“Did you enjoy the meal?” she asked.
“Loved it.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Courtney managed to squirt a tiny bit more into the toilet, her pull-up having absorbed the vast majority. She cleaned herself thoroughly, then pondered what to wear next. A diaper felt like regression, but at least it would arouse no suspicion. Besides, she wanted to look sexy for him. The plain white pull-up looked drab compared to the frilly diaper that matched the bra she had on.
“Cute set,” Kyle said later that evening, as he finished removing her skirt.
Courtney smiled.
“So was it the wine, sweetie?”
“Hmm?”
“Lots of changing this evening.” He unhooked her bra.
“Oh—yeah, must have been the wine. I, uh…didn’t want to take any chances.” She would fill him in tomorrow. Right now, she would simply enjoy what he was doing to her breasts.
* * *
The weekend was a flurry of activity, with clothes shopping, a movie date with Kyle, and two trips to the gym inspired by the shopping trip. Courtney remained in diapers the whole time, afraid of navigating pull-ups and a potty timer outside her home. She finally slipped one on after work on Monday, her face brimming with excitement as she tossed her soggy diaper in the trash.
Ooh, first I better try peeing, she realized. She sat on the toilet for a bit, but apparently she had wet too recently—maybe on the drive home? The memory was foggy. She set her timer for a safe 45 minutes, then pondered what to make for dinner. In the end, she stuck with a salad—appropriate, given how her ass had looked in designer jeans, her diaper forming obnoxious patterns in the denim. She refused to go up another pant size.
“Have you had a diaper fitting recently?” the salesgirl had asked.
“Uh…yes,” Courtney lied. The thought of the perky coed stretching a tape measure around her softened hips made her cringe.
To make the salad more palatable, Courtney doused it in French dressing and poured a glass of diet Coke to go with. Then she sat at the table, enjoying the feel of her thin pull-up beneath her flowy skirt. She flicked on the television. Earlier that day, her boss had berated her for missing an imaginary deadline, so a bit of reality TV felt well deserved.
Before she knew it, her timer sounded. Time to pee already? Her show wasn’t even over. Reluctantly, she stood up from the table and sat again on the toilet. After a minute or so, a trickled emerge, building to a stream that split in two and ran across each butt cheek. Was there a tidier way to do this? she wondered, unrolling a wad of toilet paper. She reset her timer for an hour.
Still hungry, Courtney microwaved popcorn and resumed her show. The cold diet soda complimented the buttery taste so well—she poured herself another. When the episode ended, she plopped onto the couch and began the next one. Soon her cares drifted away, unmoored by the inane plot. Would Savannah choose Ted or Henry? Both were so good-looking. Personally, Courtney preferred Albert, but he had already been voted off.
A pressure formed at Courtney’s groin, barely registered. Then warmth spread between her thighs. I guess I’m peeing now… Wait—I’m peeing? Her eyes flashed wide—she wasn’t supposed to do that! How long had it been? Her phone said 48 minutes. Courtney sighed. She was supposed go in the toilet, or at least practice holding for a few seconds, not just mindlessly wet herself. She resolved to be more conscientious.
* * *
A couple weeks later, Kyle kissed Courtney goodbye after a leisurely Saturday breakfast. “Tell the girls I say hi, okay?”
“You bet.”
As soon as the door shut, she hurried to the bathroom to try to pee. Krystal would be here any minute to drive to the train station, where Jenny would be arriving from the city. Then it was back to Krystal’s for Netflix and drinks. To Courtney’s delight, a decent amount sprayed into the bowl, though some trailed down her thigh. Maybe I’m finally getting the hang of this? She wiped herself and set her timer for an hour.
“Honk, honk!”
“One sec,” Courtney texted.
She yanked up her pull-up and jeans. Then she grabbed her bag and descended the stairs, her heart aflutter. At the front door, she gripped the knob with a sweaty palm. Each day this week, she had intended to wear a pull-up to work…but how would she explain her zillion trips to the office bathroom? So instead she had practiced holding in her diaper. Twelve seconds was her best so far—when she remembered to try, that is. So unaccustomed to monitoring her bladder’s behavior, she tended to pee absentmindedly—or worse, find her diaper wet with no memory of how it got that way. Needless to say, this morning marked her first time venturing out in a pull-up. She took a deep breath and turned the latch.
Jenny gave her a huge hug when they arrived at the station. “How’s my skinny, childless girlfriend?”
“You look great too!” said Courtney.
“Yeah, lots of healthy meat on these bones.”
“Oh, stop,” Courtney retorted, though Jenny’s baby weight was plenty evident. Courtney almost did feel skinny in comparison. “You remember Krystal, don’t you?”
“Hot blond receptionist? Of course!”
“So nice to see you again,” said Krystal. Her blue eyes and flowing curls looked striking as always, her slight tummy well camouflaged by her generous bust—much like Jenny before her pregnancy.
“Shot gun!” Jenny yelled, as she tossed her bag in the trunk.
Courtney settled into the back seat and checked her phone: twenty-five minutes left on the timer. She should be safe for a while, hopefully.
“How’s that boy Kyle?” asked Jenny.
“They’re in looove,” Krystal sang out.
“Oh my gosh, is it true?”
“Kind of?” said Courtney. “He’s super sweet.”
“But you haven’t said it yet,” said Jenny.
“Well, not out loud.”
“Just say it,” said Krystal.
“Not before he does!” Courtney objected.
“Definitely not,” Jenny agreed. “So, whereto for lunch?”
Hopefully somewhere close, thought Courtney, as her potty timer buzzed. Using it was proving tricky when out and about.
Finally they pulled into a ’50s-style diner.
“Anyone need a change?” asked Krystal on the way in.
Jenny shook her head.
“I’ll go with,” Courtney offered. “Jenny, we’ll come find you after.”
Inside the women’s room, Krystal set her purse down on a changing table, while Courtney headed for the stall.
“Don’t tell me you’re still trying this,” Krystal called over the divider.
“My pull-up is still dry. Can you believe it?”
“A pull-up? Seriously?”
“They’re super comfy. You should try one.”
“Dry for how long?”
“Over two hours—though I peed in the toilet halfway through.”
“How did you manage that?”
“I’m using a timer. When it goes off, I try to go.”
“And that actually works?”
“Sometimes it does.” Courtney conjured a raging waterfall in her mind, but still nothing happened.
“Sometimes I think you’re nuts,” said Krystal, starting the faucet to wash her hands.
The sound provided the inspiration Courtney needed. Yes! Twice in a row!
* * *
At lunch, she and Jenny exchanged stories of old times.
“Tell me a really embarrassing one about Courtney,” Krystal begged.
“Hmm,” said Jenny. “Well, there was a certain game of Truth or Dare…”
“Ugh, can we forget that ever happened?” Courtney pleaded.
Jenny told it anyway.
When she reached the climax, Krystal exclaimed, “Oh, you poor thing!”
“Well, I blame Jenny for letting the dare stand.”
“Me? But I even got you the towel and everything!”
Courtney laughed out loud.
Whoops. She managed to squeeze things shut, but not before dampening her pull-up. A minor leak, but it could foretell something worse. She checked her phone: just twelve minutes left on the timer. The safest option would be to try going now, but she didn’t want to be rude. I’ll at least wait till it buzzes, she reasoned—but when it did, the meal still seemed far from over. She tried to assess her state of urgency, but of course she felt nothing. She pressed snooze and hoped for the best.
“What about you, Krystal?” Jenny asked. “You must have stories from work.”
“Well, Courtney is always saying our boss is a misogynist twat, which he kind of is. But whenever he’s around, she’s always like, ‘Yes, Mr. Mills! Of course, Mr. Mills!’”
“Sounds like the girl I remember.”
“Hey!” Courtney objected. Then her eyes went wide. She clenched as hard as she could and started counting in her head. One one-thousand, two one-thousand…eight one-thousand, nine one—ohmygosh! She felt her pull-up inflate, while her heart did the opposite. She scolded herself for not going earlier.
“Wow, I can’t believe I ate that much food,” said Jenny. “That’s like, a week’s worth of visits to the gym.”
“Tell me about it,” said Courtney, composing herself.
“Oh shush. What are you, like still a size small?”
“I wish!”
“Let’s work it off over Netflix and booze,” Krystal suggested.
“My kind of girl.” Jenny stood and started heading towards the exit.
This meant there would be no second trip to the changing room, as Krystal had already used it. Courtney was not about to inconvenience everyone with another request. Her soggy pull-up squished against her in the car seat. She prayed it would hold up until Krystal’s.
* * *
Thank goodness! Courtney whispered in the bathroom when she could find no wet spots on her jeans. A close call, though, considering how little padding the pull-up possessed. She felt around absentmindedly for the tapes. Duh! These don’t have them. So she was forced to remove her socks, shoes, and jeans just to slide the thing off—careful as to keep the pee-soaked padding clear of her legs. She cleaned herself up and slid on another. Then she joined her friends on the couch, where Jenny and Krystal were already curled up, imbibing popcorn and vodka tonics.
They watched two episodes of their favorite romantic comedy. When Krystal went to mix more drinks, Courtney escaped to the bathroom and managed to pee a little. A couple episodes later, her hip vibrated again. “Hey, excuse me for a minute,” she said. Feeling self-conscious, she added, “Start the next one without me if you want.”
This time only the tiniest tinkle sounded in the bowl, scant output given the volume of alcohol she’d consumed. That did not bode well. She inspected her pull-up, grown damp from intermittent leaks. Still wearable, though.
“Everything okay, hon?” Jenny asked when Courtney returned.
“Hmm?”
“Haven’t you changed, like, three times since we’ve been here?”
“Oh, that...uh…”
“She’s potty-training,” said Krystal. Then she covered her mouth. “Oops, was I not supposed to say?”
“She’s doing what?”
Courtney took a deep breath. “Don’t worry, Krystal. I would have told her eventually.”
“But…how?” asked Jenny.
“Ladies, this will blow you mind…” Courtney retold the entire story, from Jane Wolcott’s interview, to the experiments with Allison Diaz, to the self-fulfilling prophecy, itself.
“So now Courtney’s trying pull-ups and a potty timer,” Krystal added.
Jenny, who had been silent through all of this, suddenly burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, but it’s too much! A potty timer? We use one with my three-year-old son!”
Courtney gazed towards the floor. Of all people, she thought Jenny would understand. “You know, it’s actually working—kind of,” she muttered.
“Hey, girl,” said Jenny, suddenly serious again. She lifted Courtney’s chin back up. “It’s working for my toddler son too. Who’s to say, right?”
“Yeah, who’s to say?” Krystal chimed in.
A slight grin formed on Courtney’s face. “I’ve got tons of pull-ups. Want to try too, Jenny?”
“Heck no! For one, my fat ass would never fit into them. But…we’ve got your back, cool?”
“Yeah, whatever we can do,” said Krystal.
“Aww, that’s so sweet of you,” said Courtney. “Ready to watch the next one? There’s still seventeen left in this season.”
“I have a question, first,” said Jenny. “What happens…in between when the timer goes off? Like, can you actually…feel the need and make it to—”
“—Still working on that.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I haven’t made it…yet. I don’t get much advanced warning—or…any, really.”
“If it happens,” said Krystal, “we could pause the show and help.”
“Absolutely we can!” Jenny added.
“Um, okay,” said Courtney. “Thanks.”
They started the next episode. When it finished, Jenny looked at Courtney as if waiting for a cue.
“What?”
“I didn’t know if you needed to…”
Courtney looked up from her phone. “What are you, my mother? I’m fine. Start the next one.”
Krystal pressed play, and the episode meandered towards its climactic scene.
~ ~
“Jack! You flew home from Paris?”
“Oui Madame.” He grinned broadly, then pulled her close. “Alyssa, I couldn’t wait any longer.”
She swiped his hand off the hem of her skirt. “Please, let me change first.”
As she shut the bathroom door after her, George emerged from behind the shower curtain. “Are you actually wet?” he whispered.
“Not that I can tell.”
“In that case…” He unzipped her skirt, revealing a red lace diaper beneath.
“George,” she whispered. “He’s right outside!”
“I know. It makes it so much hotter.” He kissed her square on the lips.
~ ~
“Ohmygosh!” Courtney exclaimed, as her hand flew to her groin.
“Pause it, quick!” said Krystal.
“With me, okay?” Jenny offered, extending an arm.
Courtney took it, her other hand still wedged between her trembling legs. “I’ll never make it. I’ll just…go right here.”
“No you won’t. Up, we go. Toilet’s just over there.”
Courtney took a few faltering steps while hanging onto Jenny for support. “Yeah, I got this, I—ohmygosh!” Her eyes glazed over as her bladder released.
“That’s farther than I would have made it,” Krystal remarked.
“Same,” Jenny agreed.
Courtney sighed. “Guess I should have gone when the last one ended.”
“Mm hmm,” said Jenny.
“Well…since it’s already paused, I’m-a go change out of this soggy thing. They don’t hold much.”
* * *
Several hours later, Jenny stood and dusted the pizza crumbs from her bust. “Krystal, want to flick the TV off? Time to get ready.”
“Sure you don’t want to finish the season?” Courtney asked.
“We should go out—hic—show Jenny the local scene.” Krystal set down her drink.
“Might wanna sober up some before then,” Jenny suggested.
Krystal stood up. “I’m good, see? Not even wobbly.” She trudged off to the bedroom.
Oh well, thought Courtney. The Netflix marathon offered a predictable rhythm: two episodes, then the toilet, rinse and repeat—like a built-in potty timer to help her stay dry. Navigating a bar felt daunting in comparison.
“Courtney—off the couch, now!” Jenny then explained, “I never get to do this. When you have a kid, you’ll see.”
Courtney sat to pee before joining her friends in the bedroom. She watched Krystal emerge from the closet with an outfit picked out. Her friend tossed everything on the bed, minus a sky-blue diaper, and ducked into the bathroom to change into it. Meanwhile, Jenny and Courtney fished their dresses from their bags and smoothed them out.
Krystal soon returned in just her t-shirt and diaper. She turned her back and removed her shirt. Courtney caught herself staring as her friend unhooked her bra, her large breasts sagging downwards, visible even from this angle. Krystal leaned forward to hook a new one in place, then turned to face her friends.
Courtney looked on with envy at Krystal’s gorgeous curves, clad in the sky-blue matching set. The bra gave perfect shape to her prodigious chest, while the lace-trimmed diaper hugged her supple hips and thighs alluringly.
Jenny was next. As she removed her clothes, the weight she carried grew even more evident, her fleshly hips protruding outwards and her bra band creasing her sides. Her large diaper stretched to accommodate her wide bottom. She turned to Courtney. “Not the figure you remember from senior prom?”
Courtney gazed at her friend’s exaggerated curves—chest on par with Krystal’s, belly straining against her diaper’s waistband. Yet somehow, Jenny made it work—her posture proud, her hip cocked outwards in all its rounded glory. She shimmied her dress up and Courtney helped zip it—tight and red and beautiful.
The show over, Courtney slipped out of her own clothes, revealing her jutting hips and slender curves up top, clad in a plain beige bra and pull-up chosen to hide well under clothes. In high school, she had waited patiently for her chest to finish filling out, especially compared to Jenny. When it finally had, she appreciated the result—any more might prove a hindrance. Yet standing now next to the two of them, she felt her adolescent insecurities return. She had on a boring pull-up, no less.
“So that’s what they look like,” said Krystal while zipping her skirt. “Somehow I expected more.”
“Like what, a cute little fly or something?” Courtney slid on her low-cut lavender dress. After glancing at Krystal’s endless cleavage, she peaked down, adjusted her bra, and tugged the neckline even lower.
* * *
As they entered the bar, heads turned to gaze at the three young women in tight clothes and heels. Jenny went to order drinks while Courtney snagged a booth. It quickly grew apparent, though, what had drawn the room’s attention: not the three of them, per se—all eyes were on Krystal.
Courtney watched the demure receptionist spread her wings and flutter about the room, the eager men jockeying for position to hit on her. Everything was relative, of course. Normally Courtney could hold her own at bars, and Jenny too—but not with Krystal there. Still, it was nice to see her in her element.
When Courtney’s phone vibrated, she invited Jenny to the changing room.
“You can sit there and pee on purpose?” Jenny asked.
“Sometimes.” Courtney heard the telltale sound of Velcro tapes. “Hey, when you’re done, do you mind running the faucet?”
“Ha ha, sure. I have another question, though.”
“Shoot.” Maybe Jenny was curious to try this, after all?
“Just wondering, was the blond butterfly there when you met Kyle?”
Ah well, not about potty-training—but Courtney still laughed. “She was, actually. His friend came on to her while Kyle played wingman. The poor guy got nowhere with Krystal, but Kyle and I talked all evening.” She left out the part where they’d made out in his car, his daring hands gliding up her skirt, caressing her ruffles after learning she was dry, then exploring her charms within… A slew of dates followed, ending similarly.
“That worked out well for you,” Jenny said. “Hey, how’s this—inspiring enough?”
As the water sprayed in the sink, Courtney sprayed in the bowl.
Sometime later, a rugged man approached her at the bar. “Cute shoes you’re wearing,” he remarked. “They bring out the green in your eyes.”
Courtney smirked. “How could shoes do anything for my eyes? They’re way down there!”
He took a long sip from his mug.
“I’m Courtney,” she said, extending her hand.
“Will,” he replied. “I guess I need a new pickup line.”
“Worked well enough, apparently.” She smiled, happy finally to receive attention. “So what brings you out, tonight?”
“Just here with a buddy. My wife stayed home.”
“So did my boyfriend,” Courtney quickly retorted.
“Actually, he asked a favor. Would you mind divulging your blond friend’s favorite drink?”
So that’s what this was about. “Brandy Old Fashioned, semisweet.”
“Thanks a million.”
Not long after, Courtney and Jenny sat chatting in their booth, when Krystal plopped down across from them with a hot man in tow.
“This is Joe.” Krystal giggled.
“Hi Joe,” said Courtney.
“Another Old Fashioned?” Joe asked.
Krystal touched his shoulder. “Yes, please!”
He waved his hand in the air. “Waitress?”
Just then, Courtney felt a twinge between her legs but was too tipsy to mount a response. Her pull-up grew warm beneath her dress. Had her timer gone off? She fished it from her purse: 25 minutes ago, apparently—while she was busy chatting with the rugged guy. In that moment, her bladder had been the last thing on her mind.
Joe turned to Krystal. “Should you be changing before that next drink?”
“Oh you’re right, I guess I should! I’ve had quite a few by now.” She stood and headed for the ladies’ room, her full diaper pressing out her skirt.
“Wait!” Courtney called. “I’ll go with.”
They lay on adjacent benches. As Courtney removed her sopping wet pull-up, she heard Krystal undo her tapes while humming the tune from outside.
Courtney marveled at her friend. Krystal seemed to embrace this world and her place within it, answering the phones and serving coffee by day, asserting herself only in nighttime venues like this one. She even embraced her incontinence as an intricate part of the deal. And her body…mirrored that persona: feminine and voluptuous, with Krystal perfectly content with that. Perhaps that’s why Courtney had been drawn to it earlier, not out of jealousy. What was it like to inhabit that body? To feel the tug of those breasts and not resent their encumbrance, or the lewd way men stared? To casually wet herself and not resent that either?
No matter how friendly they became, a distance stood between them, far greater than the thin divider separating their two benches now. Krystal seemed a soul content, while Courtney wanted more. And the first step was to stop ending up on a changing table.
A high, sweet voice interrupted Courtney’s reverie. “If I leave with Joe, can you and Jenny find your way back home?”
“Sure, hon. Hey, watch yourself tonight.”
* * *
Jenny gave Courtney a huge hug as her train arrived the next morning. “Keep me posted,” she said. “I want stories of Kyle seeing you in underwear.”
“Will do,” Courtney laughed. “Bye, bye!”
Judging by how things were going, though, she wondered if that would ever happen. If she couldn’t keep her pull-up dry, how could she possibly graduate to panties?
Edited April 21, 2021 by brucejedi
(see edit history) |
Chapter 6. Birthday Adventures
Over time, Courtney improved at peeing on cue. Certain techniques helped, such as running the faucet or picturing Niagara Falls. At times, though, her body still refused to cooperate—and she would emerge from the bathroom anxious and distracted. If circumstance allowed it, she would restart her timer and try again every 20 minutes until she managed to pee. More typically, though, she’d be out and about, or Kyle would be around, leaving her no option but to nervously await the impending flood.
Every so often, she would gaze at a pair of panties and muse about wearing them. By now, she could stay dry for a few hours when fortunes aligned—long enough to try, at least.
“I think you should,” said Allison on the phone.
“I don’t know,” Courtney replied. “The thought of it makes me nervous.”
“Well, it’s an important hurdle to cross.”
“What if I coughed or something? I’d leak right though them.”
“The incontinence pads I sent should help with that.”
“I saw them—thanks! But…those won’t contain a full-on accident, will they?”
Allison was silent for a moment. “Still not feeling any warning signs?”
“Nothing.”
That was the crux of the problem. After weeks of trying, Courtney could stay dry only by strictly regimenting her urination. If she missed a scheduled session for any reason, she might last another hour, or drench her pull-up ten minutes later—her body gave no indication either way.
“When you feel yourself starting to go,” Allison asked, “has your holding time improved at all?”
“A little, but…I still can’t reach the toilet.”
In the evenings sometimes, she would turn her timer off just to see. Then she would start some mindless activity that would let her concentrate on her bladder—like folding laundry. When the urge came on, she would hurry towards the bathroom. Occasionally she would even make it through the door, but never all the way to the toilet. More often, she would flood her pull-up in the act of standing up.
“I’ll send something to help with that too,” said Allison, “—though, I’m not sure you’ll like it.”
Soon after the call ended, Courtney’s phone chimed with its incessant reminder to pee. She faced the toilet and gazed down, thinking of how her errant stream splashed her butt and thighs in her customary seated position. In a stroke of daring, she dropped her pants to her knees and aimed her vulva at the toilet. She had already proven women could pee into it—so why not standing like a man? It might even be less messy this way.
She waited, peering past her sloping breasts at the furry mound that curved out of view. Relaxing the muscles down there felt different from this position. Yet eventually the stream began—if you could call it that. More a wild spray veering this way and that, splashing her thighs, feet, butt—all over the floor, her pants and pull-up, the seat she’d forgotten to raise—everywhere but into the bowl, itself. Well, that was a total disaster. She peeled off her soaking wet clothes. Apparently, wetting her bottom while seated was her best option.
* * *
After mopping and showering, Courtney pondered how long to reset her timer for. One hour, 45 minutes from when it sounded? No, her usual hour-and-a-half was already a stretch. At least she had progressed somewhat in that regard. As Allison had predicted, the urge came less frequently now that Courtney’s inner muscles were stronger. If only she could pass the two-hour mark, pull-ups at work might be within reason. Leaving her desk to “change” that often wouldn’t be too abnormal.
Until then, she was still trapped in diapers from 9 to 5. She would sit anxiously at her desk, the clock on her screen giving clear warning—but if she made a move for the toilet, she knew what her boss would say.
“Another break? Courtney, there’s work to be done.”
She knew this because he had already said as much, the one time she did venture to work in a pull-up. That morning she had peed twice already in the office toilet, proud for staying dry for so long. But then Mr. Mills called her in.
“Enough with the bathroom breaks, Courtney.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Are you feeling alright?”
“Um, yes…it won’t happen again.”
Men could head to the restroom whenever they liked, but if a woman did so too often, that’s how people reacted. After all, you were wearing protection, weren’t you? So Courtney returned to her desk with no option but to count the minutes until her bladder overflowed. She squirmed a bit when the hot liquid soon saturated her pull-up. She used to pay so little attention to such things, but after toilet-training all this time, the sensation was starting to bother her.
* * *
Shortly the package from Allison arrived. Curious what it contained, Courtney opened it immediately. Then she gasped. How had Allison even found one large enough for an adult? The pull-ups she had Courtney using were discreet, and mimicked the diapers everyone else wore. This, though, was big and blue and obvious, advertising that Courtney wished to pee in a grown-up toilet but couldn’t make it there in time—so instead had to use this actual potty. Allison’s instructions were to carry it around the apartment wherever she went.
Courtney cautiously tried sitting in it. It felt bizarre—so low to the ground that her knees bent sharply. She tried spreading her thighs, which allowed her legs to extend more comfortably—but a pull-up stretched between them would surely prohibit that. So she slid everything down just to see, her bare bottom now planted on the plastic rim. And then she felt her bladder contract—probably confusing this for a real toilet. Instead of a tinkle, she heard the sharp sound of pee hitting plastic, tiny droplets ricocheting back against her bottom. When it finished, she glanced around for toilet paper—but of course there was none.
On subsequent days, she would place a roll beside the potty and switch her timer off. At some point she would feel a sudden urge and frantically remove her clothes, then maneuver her rear onto the seat while holding back her stream for dear life. Often it would start before her butt touched down and splatter the rim or the floor. But gradually her holding time improved—or perhaps she grew better at hurriedly undressing. Either way, using the potty became a neater affair.
* * *
One Friday evening, Courtney gazed across the room at the childish receptacle. The past week she, had been placing it farther and farther away—3 ft., 5 ft., 7 ft.—but this felt way too far, especially still wearing her diaper from work, more finicky to pull down. She moved to bring the potty closer—before remembering what day it was: Kyle would be here any minute. So instead she hid it away in her closet, mortified of him seeing it.
Courtney still had yet to tell him anything. She had exhausted all excuses for using the bathroom so often—fixing her makeup, “that time” of the month, changing into something more comfortable. By now, he surely must suspect something. On her way home each Friday, she would plan out how to explain the truth—but when she greeted him, the words would never come. What if he laughed at her for trying to toilet-train? What if he found it unattractive, as if she refused to shave her legs?
Today, though, she was determined. When the doorbell sounded, she mouthed the memorized lines. I have something to tell you, Kyle. I—
“Happy birthday!” he beamed, handing her a present.
The plan forgotten, Courtney unwrapped the box. “It’s beautiful, honey!” She held the slinky grey-and-white dress to her body.
“We have dinner reservations for 7:00. Will you wear it?”
“Of course!”
Courtney whisked off to the bedroom to change. Then she glanced at the tag. Ugh. Keep dreaming, Kyle… I haven’t worn a size six since college. She undressed down to her diaper. Then she stepped into the dress and tugged at the zipper, watching creases form around her hips. After finally clearing that hurdle, it was easier going.
She gazed in the mirror. The dress looked fantastic from the waist up, perfectly framing her breasts. But it was so tight in the rear that every ruffle of her diaper was on full display. Would a pull-up look any better? Unlikely. Suddenly a naughty idea entered her brain.
Courtney walked to the bathroom and carefully locked the door. Then she reached underneath the tall stack of pull-ups to retrieve one of her three pairs of actual underwear. She fingered the delicate fabric.
Lying back on the changing table, she hiked up her dress and removed her diaper. Really? When did I wet this? She tossed it in the trash and cleaned herself up. Then she slipped on the pink panties for the second time ever, her pulse quickening with nervous excitement.
She kicked on a pair of heels and sauntered back to the full-length bedroom mirror. Wow, that looked so much better! No creases, no diaper lines, not a ruffle to be seen. Of course, she could never leave the house like this. She turned towards the bathroom, her game of dress-up over.
Just then the bedroom door flew open. “Darling, we’ll be late! Are you ready?”
“Ack! Sorry, let me use the bathroom real quick.”
“Come on, this place is super strict with reservations. You can change when we get there.”
“But—” Kyle grabbed her arm and practically dragged her through the apartment. Her next phase of toilet-training would be starting now, it seemed. “Wait, one more thing!” She grabbed a stylish purse from the front closet that paired well with the dress.
“Okay, come on, let’s go!” Kyle urged.
The next thing she knew, she was sitting in his car with nothing but two thin layers of fabric between her and the fine leather seat. Her heart raced. Come on, Courtney, it’s only a short ride. You can do this, she tried to convince herself.
“Beautiful evening,” said Kyle.
“What? Oh, yeah, it’s gorgeous.”
“Everything okay?” he asked.
Courtney took a deep, calming breath. “Yes. Sweetheart, thank you for planning such a wonderful birthday. I’m excited about this place! Is it fancy?”
“I’d say you’re appropriately dressed.”
You sure about that, buster? She pressed her thighs together. Without the customary padding between them, she felt practically naked.
* * *
Finally the car pulled into the lot. “I’ll come find you afterwards, okay?” said Courtney, rushing towards the restroom as quickly as her heels would allow. She felt his eyes on her rear. Can he tell what I’m not wearing? she wondered. It must be obvious.
She exhaled deeply as she leaned back against the changing room door. I made it, holy cow. Was that skill, or am I just very lucky? Either way, it was past time for this experiment to end. She lay down and hiked up her dress, feeling around for any leaks. Incredibly, the panties were still dry.
She reached into her purse…but all she encountered was a tube of lipstick and some eyeliner. Ohmygosh, I never transferred any to this bag! She glanced at the dispenser. “Empty,” read the display. Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh! She sat up on the bench, her heart doing somersaults. Maybe I can borrow one from another gal? She headed to the stall to wait for someone to enter. In her nervous state, though, she couldn’t manage to pee. No one came to her rescue, either. Finally she stuffed a wad of toilet paper between her legs in the hopes it could absorb at least something, but her skimpy underwear couldn’t prevent it dislodging and falling to the floor. Out of options, Courtney ventured back out into the world.
“Changing room’s out of supplies,” she muttered to a waitress she passed.
“I’ll tell the manager. He keeps forgetting to order them.”
“Wait, do you—” But the waitress hurried off.
Kyle was perusing the menu when Courtney sat down. “Look, they have roast duck, your favorite!”
“Let’s get it,” she said, her eyes scanning the room. Out of politeness, most women would wait till the end of dinner to change. But maybe someone would need to earlier? Then Courtney could just follow her in. It was worth a shot—the place was packed.
“A pint of lager for the gentleman and a glass of merlot for the birthday girl,” said a waiter approaching their table.
“Hope you don’t mind that I ordered you a drink,” Kyle said. “Bottoms up!”
Courtney smiled nervously and took a sip. Careful, girl, that will go straight to your bladder. They ordered their food and engaged in small talk. Eventually he looked at her glass, still nearly full. “Drink up, birthday girl! This is your special night.”
“I’m sorry…I got too distracted by the conversation.” She took another sip, then another so as not to draw suspicion. Mmm, this was high-quality wine.
Finally another lady moved in the direction of the restrooms. “Excuse me, Kyle, I’ll be back in a moment.”
He clutched her hand. “Look, our food is here! Let’s enjoy it while it’s hot. You just changed, didn’t you?”
“Okay, honey.” Courtney sipped more wine to calm her nerves. A few minutes later, the lady returned from the restroom, dry ruffles crinkling beneath her skirt. Courtney gazed on longingly.
“Can I taste your duck?” Kyle asked.
“Sure.”
“Wow, that’s delicious! Hey, sorry I didn’t say this on our rush out the door, but you look gorgeous tonight.” She felt his warm hand on her thigh.
“Aww, thanks sweetheart.” And then Courtney felt another source of warmth between her legs. Oh no, oh no!
As quickly as it started, it stopped, turning cold and clammy. This felt nothing like wetting a diaper; the dampness hugged her skin—more personal, and a thousand times more frightening. She tried to compose herself. It was only a small leak—maybe it didn’t even soak through? She managed a smile as she pushed Kyle’s hand off her thigh. “Let’s enjoy the food for now.” Then she added softly, “Plenty of time for that later, right?”
He winked, and Courtney took another large sip of wine, parting her legs to help things dry.
Soon another woman stood and moved towards the restroom. Courtney nearly rushed in after to beg for a spare diaper, but one look at Kyle convinced her otherwise. She’d acted distracted all evening, and he seemed to notice. Maybe that one leak was enough to hold her through dinner?
They chatted some more. Then Kyle leaned in close. “Watcha wearing under there? Something sexy for later?”
Oh no, he must know! She tried to stall. “Um, nothing up top…just the dress.”
“That’s hot, and your diaper?”
“Um, what?”
“What style is it? I want to paint a picture in my mind.”
“Oh—” He doesn’t know, after all. “Pink, with the crisscross straps.”
“Even hotter.” Then he leaned in closer still. “How badly have you wet it?”
“Kyle,” Courtney whispered. “Do we have to talk about this at a fancy restaurant?”
“No,” he whispered back, “we can talk about totally boring unsexy things. That’s totally fine by me.”
She giggled out loud—causing more pee to squirt into her underwear. This one was worse than the first, the wetness spreading down towards her butt.
Kyle drew out his joke. “How do you think the weather will be tomorrow?” he asked in monotone.
“Cloudy, I’d say,” she responded in kind. Her bottom felt very damp, pressed against the chair with no padding in between. She squirmed a bit, picturing the dark spot that had surely formed on her dress. I’ll just say my diaper leaked. But then she felt something of far greater concern—a dull pressure building, like a distant train approaching. She glanced down at her wineglass, practically empty. Oh no.
“Rain, you think, as well?” asked Kyle.
No, dry weather. Think dry weather… She tried every trick she knew: pressing her thighs together, rocking from side to side, even shoving her hand between her legs.
“Everything okay, Courtney?”
“Um…um…” She felt her face grow flush. She fought to clench the nascent muscles in her groin, but the train sped towards her unabated. “Excuse me, Kyle.” She stood in her heels, trembling, her thighs still clamped together like a vice.
As she stumbled towards the restroom, even more pee escaped, seeping through the panties and trickling down her leg. She picked up speed, nearly tripping in her heels, but she managed to catch herself on the handle to the changing room door. Another strong jet shot into her panties, thoroughly wetting her bottom. Then, miraculously, it stopped. She pushed open the door and fixed on the lone stall in the corner. Careful not to trip again, she sauntered towards it, a smile growing that she’d avoided a full-on accident.
Before she could lift the latch, though, the pressure returned with a vengeance. She cried out as the train crashed into her, smashing open the floodgate. Pee gushed into her underwear, streaming down both legs and onto the floor. She had no ability to stop it; she could only lift her dress up to avoid soaking it even worse. Soon the torrent slowed to a trickle and then ceased. Courtney stared down at the puddle she had produced, wondering how she could exit this bathroom with her dignity intact.
Just then the door flew open, and a young waitress burst in. “Everything okay, ma’am? You ran in here awfully quick, and I thought it might be a diaper incident. Is there anything I can—oh my, you poor thing!”
Courtney racked her brain for excuses. That she peed herself while changing? But then why would she be over here by the stall? That she forgot to stock her purse? True enough, but what girl would sit through all of dinner with no protection? Only you, Courtney. All she could think to say was the truth.
So she waddled over to the changing table, still holding up her dress. “I’m sorry I made such a giant mess. I was wearing…this worthless thing.” She slithered the sopping wet panties down her legs, then sat down to remove them the rest of the way. They continued to drip as she held them up.
“What are those?” asked the waitress.
“Women’s underwear.”
“But, how are they even supposed to work?”
“You’re not supposed to wet them. They’re for women who are toilet-trained.”
“Huh? But that’s not possible…”
“There’s a theory out there that it is. I’ve been trying—clearly not very successfully.” Courtney grabbed a handful of wipes and started mopping the pee off her legs. The waitress stared at her incredulously. “Actually, I wasn’t even planning to wear these here. You see—”
“—I’ll go get a mop and a towel. In the meantime, I think you better put this on.” She tossed Courtney a diaper from her purse before walking out the door.
Courtney fastened it carefully, feeling foolish for going without one for so long. Then she turned in the mirror to survey the damage. Dark streaks ran every which way down the skirt of the dress. How could she possibly explain this to Kyle? As she pondered this, she rinsed out the panties in the sink, wrapped them in toilet paper, and stuffed them in her purse.
The waitress soon returned. “Here, wrap yourself in this. If anyone asks, tell them your diaper leaked badly.”
“Thank you,” said Courtney, taking the towel. “I’m really sorry this happened.”
“If you want my advice, forget this potty-training thing, or you’ll end up soaking everything you own.” With that, she started mopping up the yellow puddle.
When Kyle saw Courtney emerge wrapped in the towel, he hugged her profusely. “I’m so sorry, love, I should have let you change sooner. I guess that style’s not very absorbent.”
“No, it’s not that… A whole lot worse, actually…” she struggled for words. She couldn’t spill the truth now, not with a sopping wet skirt. “I, um…peed myself while changing, and I got it all over the beautiful dress you bought me. Kyle, I’m so embarrassed!”
“Oh, sweetie that’s terrible.” He placed an arm around her as they walked to the car. “It must be hard being so dependent on diapers. Like you said that night…you go without one even for a moment, and disaster can strike. But I guess that’s part of being female, huh?”
A hundred thoughts raced through Courtney’s head. Actually, I managed to pee in the toilet earlier today… If we were encouraged to do that as little girls… But it was far easier just to say, “Yeah, diapers are a fact of life for us. It’s scary ever to go without.”
Edited April 22, 2021 by brucejedi
(see edit history) |
Chapter 7. Intimate Confessions
A thick silence loomed over breakfast the next morning. Whenever Kyle looked at Courtney, she would avert her gaze, and when she looked back at him, he would avert his. She shifted in her seat. For the first time in weeks, she hadn’t even tried to pee this morning. She’d simply swapped her overnight for a dry diaper, resigned to her need to wear it—as last night had made so painfully clear.
Then they both began talking at once.
“You go first,” said Courtney.
“No, you.”
“I’m really sorry about the dress,” was all she managed to say.
“We’ll dry-clean it, good as new.”
Courtney nodded, then resumed eating her pancakes in silence. Soon she felt herself begin to wet. She considered holding it back, but what was the point? As the spray commenced, she wondered if she would ever succeed at toilet-training.
“Come on, what’s really bothering you?” Kyle asked.
“Nothing.”
“Seriously, don’t worry about the dress.”
“It’s not the dress, okay!” Courtney stomped off to her room.
* * *
An hour later, she still lay with her face buried behind her laptop. I should tell him. Then he could support me as Jenny and Krystal have. But what if he finds it ridiculous, like that waitress did? Doesn’t matter, I’m through with trying, anyhow. I’m hopeless at it. I should go change this wet diaper.
Just then, Kyle burst into the room, grinning broadly. “Hi sweetheart…”
“Hmm?”
“Want to tell me what these are?” He dangled the pink panties between his hands.
Courtney’s eyes grew round, as she remembered leaving them drying on the showerhead like an idiot. “Um, they’re…um…”
“A sex toy, aren’t they?”
“What?”
“—For couples into wetting. That’s why you’re so quiet this morning—trying to act coy…”
Courtney just stared.
“Here I was, worried that I came on too strong with that diaper comment last night, but you were already planning this—oh no, I ruined your surprise, didn’t I? You were going to emerge from your shower wearing them—”
Suddenly Courtney burst out laughing. “Come here, Kyle.” He lay down next to her, and she rested her head on his chest. “They’re not a sex toy.”
“They’re not?”
“I know you’re into me wetting, but I’m not. Quite the opposite, actually…” She took a deep breath. “You know the conversation we had a few months ago, when you wouldn’t give back my diaper?”
“Oh, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know it would—”
“—No, no, it’s fine. But it got me thinking…especially after my accident the following night. I guess…I’m tired of being stuck in diapers.”
“It must be difficult.”
“Yeah, so…I met with this urologist, and she’s been helping me…toilet-train.”
Kyle stared at her. “But…you’re a girl. Doesn’t that make you incapable—”
“—Actually, no one knows for sure.”
“Who exactly is this urologist?”
“Well, she studied with this woman—look, it’s not important. The point is…I just…” her voice grew soft. “I wanted to try it.”
Kyle stared for another moment, then broke into a smile. “Well, then I think you should!”
She kissed him on the cheek. “I knew you’d understand, sweetheart!” She felt a weight lift from her chest. With Kyle on board, she was ready to charge on ahead. “So here’s the deal: I’m gonna go change into a pull-up.”
“You mean like what a little boy might…”
Courtney nodded.
“I knew something seemed different when I touched you there recently.”
She rolled her eyes. Touching a girlfriend’s diaper, even through clothes, was considered taboo. “Yeah, well these…” she held up the panties, “are the next step beyond pull-ups.”
“Ohhh,” said Kyle.
“But—obviously—I’m not ready for them.” She left to go change. Soon she returned to find Kyle fingering the silken underwear. “Cute, huh?”
“You wore them last night…”
Courtney slowly nodded. “I never meant to—it all happened so fast.” Kyle seemed to understand. “Listen,” she said, “when this timer goes off, I need to step out for a minute. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“And if I need to step out—at another time—don’t think it rude, okay?”
“Okay.” He smiled. “This sounds fun, almost like a dare.”
“Something like that,” said Courtney.
* * *
That afternoon, she agreed to go for a hike in the woods.
“Don’t you just love it out here?” said Kyle.
“It’s wonderful.” Courtney thought of all their Saturdays spent cooped up indoors. For weeks, she had refused to go anywhere far from a toilet, claiming it was still “too cold out” or “too rainy.” It felt nice to catch at least the tail end of spring.
“Shall we take this other loop?” Kyle proposed. “Still plenty of daylight left.”
“How long is it?”
He studied the map. “Just a mile or so.”
“You’re sure, right?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You know why.”
“Ohhh. How much time is left?”
Courtney checked her phone. “Twenty-eight minutes.”
Kyle grabbed her hand. “Well come on, let’s go then!”
They walked through a grove of pine trees, then across a quaint bridge over a stream.
“Excuse me for a minute,” said Kyle.
Courtney watched as he walked a few yards from the trail, unzipped, and watered a tree. Just as he returned, her timer sounded.
“Maybe you better go too,” he said.
“Maybe we better head to the porta-potties at the trailhead, as fast as possible.”
“Well let’s go, then!”
Ten minutes later, the trailhead was nowhere in sight.
“I thought you said it was only a mile,” Courtney muttered.
“A mile—or so. And I was assuming a faster pace.”
“You’re like half a foot taller than me! I’ve taken way more steps than you have.”
Kyle shrugged. After another ten minutes, he turned to Courtney. “Are you sure you’ll make it?”
“No.” Her bladder told her nothing, but she was long overdue.
“I think you should try going in the woods.”
“Um, how?” Courtney had never seen or heard of a woman doing it. Why would they, wearing diapers?
“Drop your jeans and aim for a tree?”
“Very funny. I have nothing to aim with, remember?”
“Hmm, good point… Worth a try, though, maybe.”
“Oh, I’ve tried—facing the toilet, standing. It goes everywhere—off to one side, backwards, down my legs…”
“Interesting,” said Kyle. He thought for a moment. “So then, how do you—”
“I have to sit. See the problem?” She considered just waiting till she wet herself, but then what would Kyle think? She wanted him to believe in her. “I could try squatting, I suppose… Will you keep a lookout, please?”
So Courtney dodged around bushes and weeds until she judged herself sufficiently far from the path. She glanced around nervously before sliding her pull-up and jeans down her thighs. Then she crouched down and spread her legs as far as her clothes would allow, her right hand pressing against the ground for balance. She thought of Kyle effortlessly unzipping in front of a tree. So unfair.
Courtney peered down. Ugh. The band of her jeans seemed in the direct line of fire. With her free hand, she pulled them forwards as far as they would stretch. Then she waited…and waited. She tried picturing the rushing stream beneath the bridge, but instead she kept imagining hikers passing by, seeing her in this compromising position. No respectable lady would ever do this—they would pee discreetly in their diaper.
With that thought, the first drops emerged, building to a spray that nearly splashed her jeans. She listened to the pitter-patter of pee against dirt. Then she heard something else.
“Howdy, mates,” came Kyle’s voice.
“Good afternoon.”
Courtney looked up. The hikers’ forms were only partly obscured—and if she could see them, surely they could see her. She wiggled her bottom, searching for an angle that muffled the hissing sound. Don’t be ridiculous—they can’t hear that! Just stay still. She glanced back down at the puddle spreading beneath her. Quietly as possible, she scooched her feet even farther apart to spare her shoes. Oh, why couldn’t she just be happy wetting her diaper like a normal girl?
Finally the flow receded until all she felt were droplets running down her butt cheeks. She heard the hikers walking away and breathed a sigh of relief. Now, what she wouldn’t give for some toilet paper? She shook her fanny as best she could; her pull-up would have to absorb the rest.
“I don’t think they saw you,” said Kyle, as she emerged from the bushes. “I distracted them pretty well.”
“By saying, ‘Howdy, mates?’”
“Brilliant, right? So how did it…go, back there?”
“Sometimes I wish I were a guy.”
* * *
That evening, Courtney showed off her pull-up to Kyle. “See? Still dry.” Minus a few drops here and there.
“Wow, Courtney!”
“Sorry, I know it’s kind of plain-looking. I’ll be right back, okay?” She soon reemerged in a much frillier diaper.
“Quite frankly, I’m amazed,” said Kyle, resting his hands on her ruffled hips.
“Oh really?”
“Sure. Until today, I didn’t think a girl could even pee in the toilet, let alone crouched in the woods.”
“Amazed, hmm?”
He slid off her shirt to reveal her matching bra. Courtney’s eyes fell closed as his fingers danced along her inner thighs…
Sometime later, Courtney opened her eyes and sat up. “That felt lovely,” she said, still catching her breath. “Can you hand me my diaper?”
Kyle held it up. Then he grinned and placed it on the far side of the bed.
Courtney crossed her arms below her breasts.
“I’m just kidding. You can have it.”
“Actually…let’s leave it off for a bit. I need to work at being less nervous about it. I mean, I just peed like half-an-hour ago.”
“Okay, sweetheart.” Kyle scooched around behind her, his legs on either side. “So you’ve learned to make it to the toilet, then, if it came to it?”
“Um, no…but getting closer.”
“Hmm, care to elaborate?” He slid his hands along her waist.
“Well, before, wettings would just happen whenever, and I had no control over it.”
“And now?”
“Now it’s like…a sudden pressure that builds, and I press back against it.” She paused, deciding whether to indulge him. “Sometimes the pressure subsides…but then it returns seconds later, even stronger. I squeeze with all my strength, but it keeps building and building until the muscles down there go numb. And then I feel my pull-up inflate.”
Kyle stroked her hips. “Maybe you shouldn’t let it get to that point. Try going earlier.”
“Right. That’s what the timer’s for.”
“No, not with the timer. I mean, go before it starts feeling so urgent.”
“But how would I know when? I don’t feel…anything…until—”
“—Until you’re about to wet yourself?”
“Yeah.”
“Then how will you ever move out of diapers?”
* * *
“It’s a valid question to raise,” said Allison. “I was hoping you’d feel something by now.”
“Well—I do, just before I go.”
“That’s urine pressing against your sphincter as your bladder contracts. You need to feel it grow full enough to want to contract, but before it happens.”
“So why don’t I?”
“Jane thought the brain forgets how to interpret the signals—that it’s a matter of learning to hear them again.”
“You sound skeptical.”
“Well, it could be that the signals just aren’t getting sent.”
“At all? Why not?”
“Think about it. A man feels nothing, either, until his bladder fills to a certain level. Yours empties long before that, and you lack the strength to prevent it.”
“But I’ve made so much progress.”
“Your best reading is a 4. Courtney, normal continence is probably upwards of a 9 or 10.”
“Oh.”
“Normal continence—for a man, that is. Even shy of that, you might still be free from diapers—just needing the toilet more often than average.”
Courtney thought for a moment. “By your theory, how much stronger would I need to be to start feeling warning signs in advance?”
“Before you can delay urination long enough for the nerves to fire? That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”
* * *
So Courtney redoubled her efforts. In the meantime, Kyle gradually took on a new role. On their way out the door, he would ask, “Wait, are you forgetting something?” Or more blatantly, “Do you need the toilet before we go?” Sometimes it annoyed her. She was a grown woman, not some toddler. She could remind herself! But in truth, she often did forget. And when her potty timer proved inadequate—at predicting the length of a car ride or a movie, for example—Kyle provided a helpful supplement.
One day he suggested they leave it turned off.
Courtney blinked. “Uh, how would that work, exactly?”
“You can’t rely on it forever. I’ll help, okay?”
Reluctantly, she gave it a try. And almost like clockwork, he reminded her just when to go.
“Again already?” she asked when he admonished her after lunch. “But I just went.”
“That was forty-five minutes ago, before drinking two glasses of water.”
“Oh, I guess you’re right.” It seemed so obvious now that he said it.
That evening when it came time to change into her overnight, Courtney’s pull-up was still dry.
“How’d I do?” Kyle asked.
She smiled at him. “Quite frankly, I’m amazed.”
* * *
After that, they would often leave the timer off when together. Courtney noted his suggestions and slowly grew more attuned to her bladder’s rhythms. His reminders continued to annoy her, but no more so than her own tendency to forget.
“Courtney?”
“Hmm?” Her eyes stayed glued to her screen.
“Courtney?”
“Five more minutes—this episode’s about to end.”
“Courtney? You said that half-an-hour ago, but did you actually—”
“—Fine, I’ll go!” She slammed closed her laptop. Then she whispered, “Whoops.”
Kyles placed his hands on his hips. “How bad?”
“Moderate-sized leak… Oh wait—” A new pressure built, far stronger than what had just slipped through. In that moment, the bathroom seemed so very far away and her bed so very comfortable.
“You’re peeing, aren’t you?” There was no hiding it; these days, he always seemed to know. “Courtney, Courtney, Courtney,” he muttered, shaking his head.
Had her potty been nearby, she might have reached it in time—but the thought of him seeing her use it still mortified her. Of course she’d been wetting in public all her life, but to do so audibly, nakedly in front of him, felt different. So the potty remained hidden away.
Courtney rose from the bed. “I don’t think you realize how difficult this is. Is it unreasonable not to want to obsess over the state of my bladder every single second?”
“It’s perfectly reasonable…” His hand traced the curve of her hip. “What if you’d been in panties, though?”
She removed his hand. “But I’m not. I’m in a pull-up.”
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
Deep down, Courtney knew he was right. If she wanted to succeed at this, she needed to stay dry, not just some of the time, but always—and that was a tall order indeed. Kyle could not be around all the time. Without him or the timer to guide her, Courtney felt in over her head.
That evening she confided in Jenny.
“Hey girl, where’s that pretty face?”
Courtney adjusted her video settings. “That better?”
“Reddish brown locks, piercing green eyes—yes, much! So, how’s the potty-training going?”
“Trying not to call it that. Sounds a bit degrading, doesn’t it?”
“Sorry.”
“Yeah, it’s going okay.”
“Still using the potty ti—I mean, toilet timer?”
“Not anymore. Now mostly Kyle reminds me.”
“Sounds irritating.”
“Yeah, I often want to strangle him, but…remembering on my own is way harder.”
“I bet.”
“There’s how much water I drank recently, and how long it’s been since I last used the toilet, and how long before I’ll get to go again—and I have to feed all that into a giant equation and decide whether I need to go right now or can wait ten minutes till the show ends—hold Krystal up with yet another trip to the bathroom or just get in the car. And if I pause the show or make her wait…half the time I sit there and nothing happens. It’s a huge guessing game with no rules.”
“Like playing Russian roulette with your bladder.”
“Yes…yes! Finally someone who understands.”
“Sounds like how my 3-year-old must feel.”
Was it? “Physically, maybe…but I bet he’s far less terrified of screwing up.”
“I take it you haven’t graduated to panties, then?”
Courtney sighed. “No, still in pull-ups. Not much better than diapers, really. They both imply I’m incontinent.”
“And I wear diapers every day, without thinking anything of it.”
“Ignorance is bliss,” said Courtney.
“Well, do you think you’re ready?”
“For ‘adult underwear?’ Kyle keeps badgering me to try them, but the one time I did…” her voice trailed off.
“You’ll get there! Soon you’ll be perched on the porcelain throne, sliding them down your thighs like a queen.”
“And all my royal subjects will bow to my cooch, begging for wisdom on how I pee on the throne and not down my dress.” They broke into hysterics.
Eventually Jenny’s smiled faded. “Maybe you could share that wisdom with me someday.”
“Better talk to my cooch… Honestly Jenny, I don’t know what to do at this point.”
“I think you do know.”
“See, that’s why I called you! You’re right…I guess I do. I’m just so afraid to take that step.”
* * *
It turned out Kyle knew as well.
“What are you doing?” Courtney asked.
“Providing motivation.” He finished removing her pull-up. Then he slid the white pair of panties up her legs.
“Kyle, I’ll just wet them.”
“Come on, when’s the last time you wet your pull-up on my watch?”
“Um, last Saturday?”
“On the super-long car ride, when you refused to pull off the highway?”
“I’m sorry, gas station toilets are disgusting.”
“More so than sitting in your own pee?”
“Better that than sitting in someone else’s.”
“Look, it’s irrelevant. We’ll be home the whole time, just steps away from the pristine bathroom I just cleaned.”
“Yeah…pristine for how long? These won’t protect the floor or my skirt.” She slid her hand along the paper-thin fabric.
“Believe in yourself, Courtney.” He pulled her skirt up over the panties.
“Fine, but I’m still taking extra precautions…” She trudged to the bathroom to insert one of the pads Allison had sent. Self-adhesive held it snug within her underwear, but it seemed worrisomely thin. A backup measure was needed—one far less discrete, unfortunately. With a deep breath, she retrieved it from the closet.
“Woah, what’s that?” Kyle asked.
Courtney gazed towards her navel. “You know what it is.”
“A potty? Do you…use it often?”
“Um…when nobody’s around.” She placed it on the floor beside her. Apparently Jenny had been spot-on: To call this anything other than potty-training was disingenuous.
All that afternoon, memories of the restaurant haunted Courtney’s mind. Each time she laughed or cleared her throat, and felt her pad grow damp, she imagined the dam bursting open.
“Still your move,” said Kyle, tapping the Scrabble board.
“I’ll be right back,” she said.
“You just went twenty minutes ago. Did none come out?”
“No, some did.”
“Then relax—you’re good for now. You’ve hardly drunk anything all day.”
Regardless, Courtney kept shifting her legs back and forth, unnerved by the lack of padding in between. Kyle spelled long words like “xylophone,” but she could only think of ones like “drip” or “wet.”
“That’s all you got?”
“No, wait—here’s a better one.” She laid out “puddle” on a triple word score. And then—“Kyle, ohmygosh, ohmygosh!” She clenched her thighs together.
“Potty’s right there. You got this.”
Courtney rose on unsteady legs. Despite all her practice in pull-ups, she fumbled at removing her underwear while lifting her skirt. “Ack—cover your eyes, please!” An errant spurt splashed her thigh. She sat down heavily, and her spray shot forth into the plastic bowl. “And your ears too…” She gazed up at him, calm and composed on the couch, while she sat inches off the floor, desperately peeing in a toddler’s toilet.
Kyle commended her accomplishment. “Wow, sweetheart. You did it!”
After catching her breath, Courtney glanced around. “Ugh. Would you mind grabbing me some toilet paper?”
* * *
The hurdle finally crossed, Courtney resumed her nightly practice sessions with the potty—only now in underwear. Though the stakes were higher, the steps were the same—stand up, walk/run, undress, sit and release. Having it close-by made wearing panties less nerve-racking.
“Dinner’s ready!” Kyle called.
Courtney emerged from the bedroom in stylish clothes, her hair done up…and the potty under her arm. She placed it beside her chair, then forced a smile. “Smells delicious!”
Kyle dished out the spaghetti. As they ate, they took turns glancing at her plastic toilet.
“It’s okay, darling. Don’t be embarrassed by it.”
“Oh, I’m not,” she lied. At least diapers were worn under clothes—not sitting out, staring you in the face during dinner.
“So, convinced any friends to try yet?”
“Well, Krystal’s a lost cause. She seems to enjoy wearing diapers, even.”
“And Jenny?”
“Jury’s still out. I think she’s watching how I do, first.”
“Ah, so you’re the guinea pig.”
“Pretty much.”
“Headline: Can women learn to pee in the toilet? All eyes follow Miss Courtney Clark.”
“—Who still brings a potty on dinner dates.” She twirled spaghetti around her fork.
Kyle stared at her intently. Then he stood and lifted the potty off the floor.
“What are you doing?” Courtney asked.
“Stowing this back in the closet.”
“But I’m wearing panties…”
“Yes, I know. There’s your incentive.” She watched him take away her final crutch.
Courtney’s heart beat fast, a disaster reel flashing through her mind—Jenny’s swim party, Truth or Dare all those years ago, wetting the bed before sex, wetting her birthday dress. She gazed at the archway to the hall, with the bathroom just beyond it—not 15 ft. away, but it felt like miles.
Soon Kyle returned. “You okay, sweetie?”
“Um, sure… What’s for dessert?”
“Ice cream.”
“Will you excuse me for a minute, first?”
“Courtney, let’s finish the meal together.” Then he added, “You might surprise yourself.”
She took a deep breath and focused on enjoying the ice cream.
And then it struck. “Ohmygosh, Kyle!” She took a few halting steps before shoving both hands between her legs. “Ooh, it’s coming right now!”
“Nope, you’re going in the toilet, not here.”
“Okay…ack!” A bit escaped, but she pressed back with all her might.
“Left foot, right foot… Come on, Courtney, carrying you would be cheating.”
She stumbled forward, her groin ready to explode. Another squirt escaped as she entered the bathroom, but the dam still held. The changing table beckoned as she passed it, harkening back to a simpler time.
“Ohmygosh, ohmygosh!” She raised her skirt and yanked down her panties just as the stream erupted, splattering the toilet seat—but she plopped down upon it before much damage was done. Then she listened with satisfaction to the audible hiss of pee hitting water.
“You did it,” said Kyle.
“I can’t believe it. See, look! My skirt’s totally dry.” |
Chapter 8. Raising the Bar, part 1
Courtney and Kyle lay in bed, basking in the morning sun that pierced the windows.
“So, should I?” she asked.
“Do you wanna?” he replied.
“Okay…what color?”
“I say, pink.”
Courtney went to shower and soon reemerged in a robe. “Are you ready?”
Kyle nodded.
“Ta da!” She parted the flaps, revealing pink panties and a floral lace bra to match. “See how slim my hips look?” She spun in front of him, the robe dropping to the floor.
“Hmm, let me inspect.” He brought his hand to her rear and squeezed the softly yielding flesh.
“Hey!” Courtney squealed.
“No diaper there. What’s to worry about?” He grinned.
It still felt novel to have her bottom this exposed, with no padding there save her own—but in this moment, she rather appreciated it. They lay down on the bed facing each other, her hand resting on her curvy hip.
Kyle fingered the hem of her underwear. “You know, I used to think these looked odd—like they weren’t really clothes. But I appreciate them now.”
“Yeah,” Courtney agreed, “sort of an au naturel look.”
“How do they feel to wear?”
“Different. Kind of like—if a diaper were a padded underwire bra, these would be a wireless sheer one.”
“Do they still make you nervous?”
Of course he would ask. “Yeah…they do. I mean, I just peed, but—”
“Really? Funny I heard no flush.”
“Um…in the shower, actually.”
“You pee in the shower?”
“I imagine all women do. Kind of hard to avoid…”
Kyle’s fingers grew more adventurous, gracing her inner thighs and her underwear in between. Her eyelids drooped, her legs parting to grant him better access. She felt him slide the panties down.
With that, Courtney closed her legs and removed his hand. “Kind of defeats the purpose if we take them off, don’t you think?”
Kyle nodded reluctantly.
She smiled, whispering, “Plenty of time for that later…” Then she walked to her dresser, settling on a fitted tee and powder-blue leggings. “So what’s the plan for today?”
“How about a stroll around the block?”
“Kyle…”
“Come on, it would only be a few minutes. Didn’t you just go?”
“Alright, fine.”
As they descended the steps, the cool breeze reminded her again what was lacking. She had spent lots of time with him in panties recently, but not outside their respective apartments. She squeezed Kyle’s hand. “Just around the block, okay? No ‘extra loops’ this time.”
“Okay,” he laughed.
As they walked, he seemed to sense her lingering anxiety and placed an arm around her. She welcomed it graciously.
On the final stretch, he called, “Tag, you’re it!” and sprinted ahead.
Courtney ran after him, tagging him back once he slowed down to let her. “Great, now my pad’s wet.”
“Did you know your breasts bounce when you run?”
“Yes, Kyle. That’s why we wear sports bras—unless of course, we’re tricked into running.”
“It’s cute.”
“Cute and annoying.”
Back inside, Kyle served them freshly squeezed lemonade.
Courtney took a deep sip and asked, “Why do we even bother with the store-bought brand?”
“Easier, I guess.”
She thought for a moment. “Kind of like diapers.”
“Hmm?”
“Easier than what I’m trying, but far less satisfying.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
Courtney finished her lemonade. I should probably try using the—
“—Is it ‘later’ yet?” Kyle asked. “Because your curves look…irresistible in that outfit.” He lifted her off her seat.
“Yay, piggyback ride!”
He laid her on the bed.
“Irresistible, hmm? Which curves, exactly?”
“These…” he cupped her hips through the stretchy blue fabric. “And these…” he kneaded her thighs.
“What about these?” she slipped off her shirt, revealing her breasts clad in the floral bra.
“Those cute, annoying ones?”
“Only thing annoying me now are these…tight straps…” she flicked one off her shoulder.
“Oh but without those, you’d be jiggling uncomfortably,” he teased. “Better leave them fastened.”
“Then I’m taking these off…” she unzipped his jeans. “Buuut—first I’m running to the toilet!” She scooched off the bed and ran awkwardly down the hall, one hand pressed between her legs while the other clutched her chest—her bra less effective with the strap dangling. Squirts of pee had already begun wetting her pad.
Courtney nearly made it—but as she burst through the bathroom door, a torrent erupted in her underwear, negating all chance of safely reaching the toilet. As Kyle came running, she stood with her knees bent and her butt thrust back, striving to regain control as streaks of pee darkened her leggings. Finally she turned to face him, her arm still crossing her chest as if the stray bra strap were the extent of her troubles.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” was all he said.
Soon her wet clothes lay in a heap, while hot water beat down upon her and washed away the pee, if not her shame.
Kyle poked his head in. “Mind if I join you?”
Courtney smiled at his muscled body—a small consolation, she supposed. “You could have reminded me to go, earlier,” she mumbled.
“And that’s my responsibility?”
“Well, no.”
He hugged her tight, causing her naked chest to press into his. She wished she could stay there forever in his arms, under the steamy spray. She could even pee all she wanted, and no one would know or care, not even him.
“I’m sorry,” Kyle said at last. “I should have reminded you after all that lemonade.”
“I should have reminded myself.”
“Well…maybe it’s time to raise the bar higher—keep you more on your toes.”
“Higher than the prospect of soaking my leggings?”
He nodded.
What could he have in mind?
* * *
A few weeks later, Courtney stood at her dresser, picking out clothes.
“How about these?” Kyle held up a racy black diaper.
“Oh, I should at least wear a pull-up. I’ll be fine in one.”
“You’ll be drinking, though. Don’t you want a night to relax?”
“Relaxing doesn’t have to mean wetting myself. Why don’t you try going clubbing in a diaper—see how it feels?”
“Should I wear a bra too?”
Courtney smirked. “Only if it matches.”
Kyle moved in close. “Wear it for me, so I can picture how it looks under your dress.” He slid his hand up the back of her thigh.
Honestly, a night not worrying about her bladder felt long overdue. Since the leggings incident, she had scrambled to the toilet half-a-dozen times, but also failed just as often. All three panties needed washing on multiple occasions. Meanwhile, Kyle kept coaxing her forward—quick runs to the store, fast food joints, brunch places, all with her in underwear. She was in the big leagues now, craving a timeout.
And yet, she felt silly wearing a ruffly diaper to a bar, of all places. Well, she could treat it the same as a pull-up, she supposed, despite it being more cumbersome to slide off and on. She slipped it between her legs and did up the tapes. Then she touched Kyle’s cheek. “I expect ample reward when we get home.”
After packing her purse with the same style of diaper, Courtney placed it by the door and went to finish her hair and makeup. She peed in the toilet, and they were off.
“Kyle!” she said upon opening the car door. “This is a fancy outing—you couldn’t at least clean this out?” With her foot, she pushed his collection of fast-food wrappers and cups a safe distance from where her party dress would drape.
“Uh…sorry,” he replied.
On the ride downtown, she thought of their recent trip to the grocery store…
~ ~
As soon as they entered, Courtney had insisted they scout the location of the restrooms.
Kyle leaned over and whispered, “Feeling anxious?”
“At home is one thing—this is totally different.”
“No, only different in your mind.”
“Okay, Yoda. What if this ends like on my birthday?”
“I promise you, it won’t.”
They strolled through the produce aisle, gathering fixings for a salad.
“Are those jeans too tight?” Kyle asked.
“Do they look too tight?”
“No, but you keep readjusting them.”
Had she been? “They feel weird without padding, like their gripping my tush.”
“Ah,” said Kyle.
“I dug these out of my closet. My newer ones are too loose over just panties.”
“Ah,” he said again.
They continued shopping.
Eventually Kyle whispered, “If you think you should go, then go.”
“Hmm?”
“You keep glancing toward the restrooms.”
Had she been doing that too? “How long has it been?” she asked.
“Half-an-hour, maybe.”
“Since we left home, or since we’ve been here?”
“Just go already!”
Courtney reemerged from the bathroom even more distressed. “Kyle, I couldn’t go.”
“At all?”
She shook her head. “I’m getting nervous.”
“You went before we left, correct?”
“Mm hmm.”
“You should be fine for a while longer.”
They finished filling the cart and headed towards the checkout lanes. Then Courtney’s heart sank.
“You would think they’d open more lanes,” Kyle observed.
They chose what seemed the shortest, but the lady working it moved at a snail’s pace. With every passing minute, Courtney’s anxiety ticked up another notch. Was this what he meant by raising the bar? That’s high enough, thank you.
“Kyle,” she finally said, “I better try again.”
She weaved through the paper aisle, past a large display of women’s diapers. Her favorite brand was on sale—a multicolor pack of gorgeous, flowery pastels—but she resisted the urge to grab one for immediate use. Upon entering the changing room, her heart sank again—the single stall was occupied. She gazed at the three changing tables that nearly filled the room. The world simply wasn’t designed for women who would rather pee in the toilet. Why would it be?
Unwilling to wait, Courtney wandered back up front, but Kyle was nowhere to be seen. She started to panic—she last peed more than an hour ago. “Kyle? Kyle!”
“Over here, honey!” He waved from near the door, the groceries bagged and paid for.
She ran to him. “There was a woman in the stall, taking a really long time.”
“There’s only one stall? In ours, there’s always at least a couple urinals.”
“Yeah, we don’t have those.”
“So you didn’t go?”
She shook her head while fingering the front of her jeans.
“Do you need to?”
“Probably? I can’t tell.”
As they drove home, Courtney’s heart thumped in her chest. “I’m gonna wet your nice leather seat—I just know I will. Can you pull over so I can grab the emergency towel to sit on?” She had stashed one in the trunk.
“You’re not gonna wet. In five minutes, you’ll pee in the toilet at home.”
And that is exactly what she did.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart!” Kyle kissed her on the cheek.
~ ~
After excursions like that one, wearing a diaper tonight felt as calming as a warm blanket. But I still mustn’t wet it, Courtney reminded herself. I should treat it like a pull-up.
Soon they arrived at the club, one of many in the district. The plan was to hit several before the night was done.
“This place is nuts,” said Kyle.
“You’ve never been here? Each floor has a different theme.”
“Which is your favorite?” he asked.
“Well, the third floor has ’80s music.”
“Let’s go, then!”
“Not yet, silly. Gotta be at least a wee bit drunk for that.”
So they hit the bar on the techno floor. In her low-cut dress, Courtney quickly drew the server’s attention.
“That was fast,” Kyle observed.
“Being female has at least some advantages.”
As the place was still filling up, they managed to snag a small table.
“I don’t blame the bartender,” he said, “you look hot tonight.”
Courtney smiled.
“Does it feel nice to let your guard down, after our other outings?”
She sipped her Gin n’ Tonic. “To be honest, I’m surprised by the night off.”
“Well, you’ve earned it.” He raised his beer mug, and they clinked glasses.
Soon they ditched their empty drinks and ventured onto the dance floor. As they twisted and grooved, Courtney’s mind replayed their recent brunch together…
~ ~
“So, does it feel empowering?” Kyle had asked once they were seated.
“To be wearing real underwear? Hardly. You’ve seen what often happens at home.”
“Well, I have confidence in you.”
“Thanks, sweetie.”
He perused the menu while Courtney fidgeted with her napkin. “You’re not even gonna look at it?” he asked.
“You order.” She left for the bathroom. There she checked the toilet paper supply, the latch on the stall, the cleanliness of the seat—all satisfactory. She even practiced pulling her skirt up high enough to clear the basin as she sat. She didn’t bother trying to pee, though—still way too early.
Kyle grinned when she returned. “How’s the toilet look? Any traps or explosives to watch out for?”
“Aside from the tiger guarding it? Nope, all clear.”
They chatted some more, but Courtney remained distracted. Several times, she reached for her water glass and set it down without drinking any. “I thought you said the service was fast.”
“Fast—ish.”
Finally she said, “I should use the ladies’ room”—but then their food arrived. She glanced around. In a classy place like this, few women would change mid-meal.
Kyle sensed her hesitation. “How much longer can you last?”
“I haven’t a clue. My bladder tells me nothing till the last possible moment.”
“Still?”
“Yes, still.”
“Better go then, to be safe.”
Courtney scooted her chair out.
“Unless…you thought you could make it through the meal.”
She froze. The whole meal? “Kyle, I can’t.”
“Try it.”
The gauntlet had been thrown. She gathered her courage and scooted her chair back in.
They ate mostly in silence, with Courtney too preoccupied to put together a sentence. She checked the time. Ninety minutes had passed, longer than she had ever worn panties without peeing. She reached for her water again, her mouth dry from her eggs benedict, but Kyle covered it with his hand.
“Careful with that,” he said.
She stared at her plate. Still plenty of food left to fill her appetite—her anxiety compounding her hunger.
“How are you feeling, honey?” Kyle asked.
“Like any second I’ll wet my skirt.”
“Did I ever tell you, you’re cute when you’re nervous?”
“I wish I’d worn a pull-up,” Courtney muttered.
“No you don’t. Think how proud you’ll be when you succeed.”
She resumed eating, until at last her plate was empty…and her skirt still dry.
“Congratulations,” said Kyle.
Courtney didn’t answer. Instead, her hand flew to her chest, and she gasped. One one-thousand, two one-thousand… With rapids breaths, she rose from the table and powerwalked down the aisle, striving in vain to appear nonchalant. Eight one-thousand, nine one-thousand, ten one-thousand… At the door to the bathroom, a spurt escaped, but she managed to contain it. Twenty one-thousand. She sauntered to the stall and lifted the latch. Twenty-five one-thousand, twenty-six one-thousand… She hiked up her skirt like she’d practiced, and slipped off her panties. Thirty one-thousand. Her butt touched porcelain. Hissss.
Courtney emerged from the ladies’ room beaming.
“See? I told you you could do it,” Kyle said, as he calmly strode into the men’s room.
~ ~
The brunch outing capped a string of excursions with Courtney wearing panties and returning home dry. It almost made her wonder why tonight he wanted her in diapers. Who knows—Kyle could be weird sometimes.
“Come on,” she urged. “let’s try the hip-hop floor.”
As they ascended the stairs, a nagging voice sounded in her head. Normally he would remind her to try the toilet at this time. She cringed, though, when she saw the line twisting out the door. In the diaper she had on, she felt confident waiting till the logjam cleared. She turned to her boyfriend. “I’m having such a nice time, Kyle. A night off was a great idea.”
His credit card in hand, she secured them another round of drinks. By then the place had grown too crowded to find a table, so they stood and watched the dancers.
“Let’s play Wet or Dry,” Kyle proposed.
“You’re asking a girl to play that? I thought it was only for bachelor’s parties and sausage fests.”
“We can’t have all the fun.”
“Okay, you go first.”
“Alright, let’s see…the blond in the white skirt: dry.”
“Really? Why?”
“The lines across her butt are smooth and subtle. If she were wet, they’d be bulging and misshapen.”
“Shut up, you can’t tell from that! Every diaper style’s different.” At least, she hoped you couldn’t.
“Your turn.”
Courtney looked around. “The brunette over there, dancing with her friends—she’s quite wet.”
“How do you know?”
“She keeps checking her movements, afraid to let loose—afraid of leaking.”
“Wait, I see what you mean.”
The girl said something to her friends, then strolled towards the restrooms.
“See? Told you.”
Kyle nodded. “Okay, that redhead with the sizable chest: wet.”
“Reason?”
“Intuition. Look—you can see it in her eyes.”
“No you can’t! You just like picturing curvy redheads soaking wet.”
“Your turn again.”
Courtney scanned the dancefloor. “See that twerking girl with the skimpy top? Her partner has planted his hand on her ass.”
Kyle grinned. “The great thing about clubbing—nowhere else could he get away with that.”
“Well, she’s dry. Otherwise, she’d have slapped his hand away.”
“Wow, you’re good. I’m taking notes.”
Courtney set down her empty glass. “Come on, let’s dance!”
The swirling lights flashed around them. Sweaty bodies twisted and turned. As Courtney moved her hips to the beat, she felt Kyle’s hand drift around behind. He pulled her close until her soft chest began to glide against his abs. She gazed into his hungry eyes, as the booze worked through her brain. And in that moment, all her struggles were forgotten.
Just then a ping between her legs implored her to abandon this reverie and run right quick to the nearest toilet. She turned her head and saw that the line had grown even longer. Then she turned back to Kyle…and wet herself in his arms. She exhaled deeply, then again, unit her diaper felt warm and full beneath her dress. All the while, her eyes remained locked on his, signaling her almost orgasmic release.
When this new reality dawned on her, she gripped his hand and removed it from her rear. Though Kyle said nothing, she was sure he knew why. They danced a few more songs, but the spell was broken. She could now think only of the dampness cooling rapidly between her legs, and the shame that it brought. She was supposed to treat this diaper as a pull-up and keep it dry.
“Will you excuse me, Kyle?” She trudged off to stand in line.
* * *
Some ten minutes later, Courtney finally entered the lady’s room. Before her, more than a dozen changing tables lined the wall, with low dividers in front and in between. In each, a woman lay fumbling through her purse, or wiping her bottom, or fastening tapes, their diapers designed more for fashion than function, demanding frequent replacement. All these women who had wet themselves sometime ago, just as she had—only, they figured they could do no better, whereas Courtney knew she could. She wanted no part of any of it.
Was it the alcohol? The music? The dancing? Or the fact that she wore a frilly diaper whose primary purpose was to get wet? She wished she’d insisted on a pull-up.
“If you’re not gonna claim that one that just emptied, I will,” said the lady behind her.
Courtney walked over, hiked up her dress, and lay down. Then she fished around inside her purse…but the stack of spares was gone, replaced by a black pair of panties. |
Chapter 9. Raising the Bar, part 2
So that’s why Kyle wanted her in a diaper. If she had kept her pull-up dry all night, Courtney never would have needed to change into this. The bastard must have known all the dispensers would be empty in a jam-packed club. No matter, she would just ask a stranger for a spare. She began to mouth the request, but then paused.
A moment ago, this whole diaper scene disgusted her, and now she was stooping further below that—to be the girl incapable even of managing her own supply? She shoved her feet through the panty’s leg-holes in defiance.
Yet as she slid them up, her confidence evaporated with each passing inch, until she paused mid-thigh. She fingered the silky fabric stretched between her legs, that her pee would surely soak right through. She’d felt it happen many times, though never since her birthday out in public. That streak could end tonight with countless people watching—for this was no small grocery store or brunch place with bathrooms close at hand, but a crowded club, and she’d been drinking. She gazed at her naked crotch, impulsive and unpredictable.
She shut her eyes. You can do this, Courtney, she tried to convince herself. She slid the panties up until they rested snug against her. Then she reached for a padded liner, finding them sitting atop toilet paper that Kyle had oddly placed inside her purse. Did he think the stalls might be out? How very considerate of him. She slipped the pad into place and smoothed out her dress.
At the door, Courtney turned and stared a final time at the room full of incontinent women. Then she gripped the latch with trembling hands…and pushed it open. As she made her way back to Kyle, everyone carried on as if she were still the confident, carefree girl in a diaper—but to her, that girl was gone.
“I thought I was getting the night off,” she grumbled at her boyfriend.
“You said it yourself—you’d rather not wet yourself while clubbing. Now you have motivation not to.”
“Or motivation to slap you.” She readied her hand and he winced. “A pull-up would have been fine, thank you.”
He lowered her hand. “Unless you got lazy and peed in it, like you did in your diaper just now.”
She had no response to that.
“You don’t need a pull-up. It’s time for big-girl underwear at a bar.”
They wandered up to the ’80s floor, but Courtney didn’t feel like dancing.
“Would you like another drink?” Kyle asked.
“You know I can’t—not wearing this.”
“I think I’d like one. Could you help me out with that?”
“Sorry, my cleavage is off-duty at the moment.” She turned away and pressed her legs together. How could he do this to her?
Kyle touched the small of her back and peered over her shoulder. “Hey, sweetheart.”
Courtney grabbed his hand and spun back around. “Couldn’t you have warned me, at least? Or argued against buying that second drink? Or maybe, maybe…asked me, first?” Then her voice grew softer. “You don’t know what it’s like, Kyle…to have no clue when I might drench my clothes.”
“You have more control than that.”
“Not much more.” Her fingers graced the front of her skirt. “Maybe we should just go home.”
“You’re right,” he admitted, “I don’t know what it’s like. But I believe in you, honey, and I’ll help however I can.”
“How, by bringing me a towel…or a mop?” She half-smiled.
Kyle smiled back in full. Then, out of the blue, he said, “You are the most beautiful thing,” just as “Dancing Queen” began playing. He held out his hand, and she took it. They danced the whole song with Courtney wrapped in his arms, still trembling.
“Kyle, how will this work?” she asked when the song ended. “Have you seen the lines for the changing rooms? I’ll spend the whole night standing in them.”
“Most girls won’t be using the toilets. Can’t you cut straight to there?”
“You would think, but no. When it’s so crowded, they flip the toilet lids down to use as extra changing tables. There’s no separate line.”
Kyle raised an eyebrow. “You could use the men’s.”
“What?”
“I’m serious. I’ll make sure the coast is clear. If someone enters when you’re in the stall, they’ll never know it’s a girl. Guys mostly just use the urinals, anyway.”
“Forget it. I’ll go ask another gal for a spare.”
“Some random gal at the bar, whom you’ve never met?”
He had her there. It was bad enough asking in a changing room, let alone out in public. She doubted she could bring herself to do it. “Fine,” she muttered, “I’ll use the men’s room like some tramp.”
* * *
They danced some more, yet Courtney found herself holding back—almost like that woman from the game of Wet or Dry. If the urge came on, what could she do? Run past all the women lined up? Charge into the men’s? “Sorry, gentlemen, but I’m about to spray all over the floor unless you let me into one of your stalls.” Maybe soon the lines would dwindle…but how much longer could she last? She searched her bladder for a sign—any sign—but there was none. All she felt was her pad grown damp.
“Kyle,” she mumbled, “I think the men’s room is free.”
They walked there, and he peeked inside. “All clear,” he said.
Courtney glanced around. Praying no one was looking, she leaned against the heavy wooden door just long enough to slip inside. Kyle followed her in. Her eyes then scanned the strange surroundings. No changing tables at all, just—so that’s what a urinal looked like.
Kyle noticed her staring. “Want to try one? It’s fast and convenient.”
“Very funny,” said Courtney. She crossed the room to the stalls.
Choosing the cleanest one, she carefully locked herself inside. Here things looked more familiar—no box for disposing of tampons, or lid to sit on while fastening a diaper—but otherwise, a toilet was a toilet. She removed her panties and sat. Before long, her customary high-pitched hiss emanated from the bowl. When it finished, she reached for some toilet paper.
Then she heard a new sound—Kyle, using the urinal just outside. She listened to his tinkle, nothing like hers.
“Fast and convenient,” he said again. “Hey, that sound you make, is it because your stream comes out more like a spray?”
“I guess so? Kyle, can we discuss this someplace other than the men’s public restroom?”
“Sure, hon, I’ll go scout the doorway.”
Soon Courtney reentered the club, still wearing no protection aside from the thin pad. Her mouth felt dry from the alcohol, but she refused to drink any water. Better dehydrated than face the alternative.
“S’up, Courtney?” Jenny texted.
“Clubbing…” She replied.
“Fun!”
“…in panties.”
“Ooh.”
“Was tricked into it…long story.”
“You okay?”
“Kind of freaking out. I don’t recommend this.”
“Still dry, at least?”
“Y”
“Remind your cooch: On the throne, not down your dress.”
Courtney laughed out loud…and felt a sizable squirt dampen her pad. Fantastic.
“Who are you texting?” Kyle asked.
She closed her phone. “Just Jenny.”
Courtney gazed at the frolicking women on the dancefloor, their diapers forming creases in their tight clothes, advertising to anyone and everyone that they wore them. The back of her own dress must look far sleeker. Normally she appreciated how her subtle panty-lines showcased the natural curves of her rear—but now it made her self-conscious, like she wasn’t fully dressed.
“Watcha thinking?” Kyle asked.
“That my pad’s already wet, and could soon get a whole lot wetter.”
“Sweetheart, you just peed. I heard it with my own ears. Could you at least…try to have fun?”
She looked at him. “How do you do it—so calmly and neatly?”
“Well, I do have a—”
“—Shots! Who wants shots?”
They both turned to see a young woman in a bra-top balancing a tray, her shorts so tiny that a fair bit of her diaper sat exposed.
“Could help you relax,” Kyle said.
“And hardly any liquid in them…” Courtney agreed.
“Cheers,” they said in unison, as they downed a pair of Kahlua shots.
Just then, “Don’t Stop Believin’” started playing. Courtney grabbed Kyle’s hand and led him onto the dancefloor. The rush from the shot soon overtook her, and her attention finally strayed beyond her underwear.
Five songs later, they were still dancing.
* * *
“Alright, coast is clear,” Kyle said.
“But it’s Madonna!”
“Courtney…”
“Fine, you’re right.” She snuck back into the men’s room and locked herself in a stall. There she sat waiting for things to get started, when she heard the door creak open.
“Howdy, mate,” said Kyle, alerting her to the clear and present danger.
The other man said nothing, or maybe he nodded. All she heard was the sound of male pee hitting porcelain. She glanced down at her sparkly shoes and prayed he didn’t notice them beneath the divider. She tried to stay silent, but her legs were already spread in the most faciliatory pose for peeing. That, combined with the tinkling coming from the urinal, called her bladder to attention, and she felt herself starting to go.
Oh no…oh no! Her feminine hiss grew louder by the second. The stream too powerful now to stop, she tried tilting up to aim above the water line—but that only resulted in splattering her thighs, while the majority still hissed loudly into the pool. Then, in a stroke of genius, she gripped the lever behind her and flushed, then flushed again. Soon she heard the sink running and the door creak open and shut.
“He’s gone, sweetie,” Kyle said. “Nice move, by the way.”
“Hmm?”
“Flushing to mask your sound. I doubt he suspected a thing.”
When they were safe outside, Courtney turned to him. “I think I’m ready to go home. Are you?” This adventure was beginning to exhaust her nerves.
“Now? I thought we were bar hopping tonight.”
“Hopping? We’ve been at the same place for over three hours.”
“Well, we have until 4 AM…and you’re doing so well,” he added slyly.
“Uh huh. Kyle, I’ll be standing in a puddle by then—or have died of thirst.”
“You haven’t had any water, after three drinks and all that dancing?”
“I’m scared to.”
“A little won’t hurt. I don’t want you getting sick.”
“Fine, just a little.”
She adjusted her dress so that her bra was slightly visible when leaning forward, then returned with two tall glasses of water.
“Bottom’s up,” said Kyle, downing his.
Courtney drank way more of hers than she intended.
* * *
Soon they were out the door on their way to the next venue.
“This is the last stop, right? Then we go home, and I put on a nice thick overnight.”
“Still need those, huh?” Kyle asked.
“Yeah.” It was another hurdle to cross, along with stress leaking, and—one thing at a time. “So where’re we headed?”
“This chill place around the corner—total opposite of where we just were. I think you’ll love it.” He wrapped his arm around her waist, his hand resting on the sloping flesh above her hip. As they walked, it slipped down inch-by-inch. “Still dry,” he said.
“Hmm?”
“Otherwise, you’d have slapped my hand away.”
Courtney chuckled. “I should hope so. Cuz if not, I’d—oh god…” She brought her legs together.
“Uh oh,” Kyle said.
“There’re no bathrooms…anywhere!” She started to panic.
He looked around. “What about there?” He pointed to an alley up ahead.
“You can’t be serious…” She pleaded with her bladder to wait, but instead it shot a warning volley straight into her underwear. The choice was clear: the alley or her dress.
So Kyle stood watch while Courtney ducked into the shadows. She glanced in all directions. Hordes of people were in the street, but the alley was dark. Perhaps no one would notice a desperate girl spreading her legs and peeing here on the ground. She squatted down against the side of a building and dropped her panties to her knees. Then she lifted her dress and released her aching bladder. Some ricocheted off the wall, splattering the backs of her legs, but most formed a growing puddle beneath her. She closed her eyes in shame. And to think, just hours ago she was safe and secure in a puffy diaper.
Presently she heard a ruffling sound, and her eyes shot open. She peered down the alley, and there emerged a small dog. Thinking nothing of it, the animal lifted her leg (clearly a girl) and peed on the pavement next to Courtney. Their streams both ceased around the same time. The dog then scurried off.
Courtney tried not to read too much into it. Still holding up her dress, she waddled awkwardly forward till her fancy shoes cleared the twin puddles, which had started to merge into one. Then she reached into her purse to retrieve the sheets of toilet paper Kyle had provided, using them to dab off her legs, crotch, and rear. So that’s why he put it there—for moments like this. What a thoughtful man.
* * *
Courtney yanked on Kyle’s arm as they continued on. “We’re seriously still going to another bar, after—”
“—Just come and see it, that’s all I’m asking.”
Kyle proved correct—the place he chose was truly nothing like the multistory club. Crammed between two larger establishments, there wasn’t much room inside—just a few oak tables and a foosball one in the back. Nineties alt rock played overhead, not too quiet, not too loud.
“Love it,” Courtney said. “Now can we go?”
“Without a game of foosball?”
Well, the music was fantastic… She followed him through the bar.
Not even Nirvana, though, could quell her persisting insecurity. Despite her alley detour, she imagined all the liquid she consumed that night filtering through her system, preparing for another exit. So she went to scout the facilities. A short hallway contained doors to the two restrooms. She peeked inside the women’s: a pair of changing tables and a stall, all unoccupied. She could work with that. She sat on the toilet, but the attempt proved premature.
When she rejoined Kyle, he was already practicing his shot. “Shall we?” he said.
Courtney gripped the five- and three-man. “Alright, you’re on.”
Kyle won the foos, so she switched to defense and blocked two of his shots. Then she got lucky when he lost control, setting up her five-man for an easy goal.
“Wow, where’d you learn to play this?” he asked.
“Frat down the street from my sorority.”
Kyle turned up the heat after hearing that, scoring twice.
Courtney’s hand then moved from the foosball handle to the front of her dress. She took one look at Kyle and darted to the ladies’ room…only now, it was no longer empty. Three women were chatting across the dividers—a group of friends changing their diapers together, one using the toilet stall for that purpose. Courtney stared for the briefest moment, then ducked back into the hallway.
She felt her pad dampen, signaling an increasingly dire situation. She glanced around, then peeked inside the men’s. Empty. Her hand now firmly planted between her legs, she charged across the restroom and lifted the latch to the stall.
“Just a second,” said a low, gruffly voice. The sound made Courtney jump, and another powerful spurt shot into her pad. She doubted it could hold much more. So this was how the night would end, with her wetting all over the men’s room floor. Fitting, after tempting fate this long.
Yet then her eye fell upon the urinals, white and glistening along the wall. She stepped up to one and touched the cold porcelain. Could a girl even use one without making a giant mess? She thought of when she had tried the toilet standing—not pretty. But her bladder now left little choice.
Her heart thumping loudly, she lifted her dress and slid her underwear down. Then she spread her legs as wide as her panties would allow and arched her pelvis forward, her other hand clutching the urinal for support. She gazed down between the swell of her breasts, but her bunched-up dress obscured all view of her vulva. She could only trust it was far enough over the basin. She released and hoped for the best.
A spurt shot out, then another, and Courtney felt pee running down her legs. The angle was all wrong. In triage, she removed her supporting hand and pressed her thighs against the urinal for balance. Then she reached down and stretched her labia upwards. Her spray followed suit, still splattering her legs but, miraculously, landing mostly in the bowl. She glanced at the occupied stall and wondered if she sounded anything like a man peeing.
Just then the hallway door swung open, and Kyle emerged. He stared at Courtney perched awkwardly with her dress hiked up, splattering into the urinal. Gradually the stream diminished, the final portion missing the basin entirely and trickling down her thighs.
She glanced around for toilet paper, but of course there was none—only a paper towel dispenser near the sink. As she waddled backwards to retrieve some, she saw before her a fair-sized puddle on the floor—more had missed than she thought. The urinal, too, was speckled everywhere with yellow droplets, many of which remained after it flushed.
Courtney then turned to see Kyle’s hand extended, offering paper towels. She used them to wipe her legs from ankle to thigh and around her butt cheeks, while Kyle held her skirt out of the way. Finally she pulled up her panties, splattered here and there with pee, but still wearable—nothing compared to a wet diaper. A dry pad she inserted helped too. She reached for more paper towel to clean the floor with, but then she heard the toilet flush, announcing her queue to exit. Oh well, maybe drunk guys had just as poor aim?
Safe at last in the hallway, she stopped to catch her breath.
Kyle looked at her and asked, “Fast and convenient?”
“Not so much.”
“Next time, you could try sitting on it.”
Why didn’t she think of that?
They returned to the main room, and he placed his hands on the foosball rods as if nothing had happened. “So, shall we finish our game?”
“Kyle, can we please go home?”
* * *
The two of them walked back towards the car, past the alley where Courtney had peed, and into the multistory garage attached to the club. She cringed again when she saw the cups and food wrappers strewn about the passenger side, right where her pretty shoes would rest.
“You’re not worried about the car seat?” she asked.
“Nah, it’s only a 20-minute drive.”
She fingered her skirt again. “But I’ve had to go twice in the past hour. All I drank tonight keeps flowing through me, right down to…you know where.”
“Would you feel better sitting on a towel?”
“Yeah, actually I would.” She removed the one from the trunk and laid it across the seat. It seemed an imperfect solution; with no plastic lining, her pee would easily soak through it.
They rode for a while in silence. Courtney was feeling a swirl of emotions that she couldn’t sort out.
Finally Kyle said, “Well, you did it.”
“Hmm?”
“Made it through a night out clubbing with nothing but panties under your dress.”
Her fingers gripped the towel spread beneath her. “Not out of the woods yet…”
“Next exit is ours. I think we can start celebrating.”
Then Courtney’s eyes grew wide. “Pull over, pull over!”
“On the highway? Too dangerous.”
“But…” she pointed between her legs.
“Can you hold it for five minutes till we get home?”
Courtney closed her eyes and focused on her breathing.
“Doing great, hon,” Kyle encouraged.
She lasted for another moment before a spike in pressure made her jump. Her pad now wet, she sealed things shut again but only just. She turned to Kyle. “I won’t…make it.”
He glanced around. “Here,” he said, fetching a McDonalds cup from the floor. “Go in this.”
“What?!!”
“Do you have a choice?”
No, not unless she wanted to soak his leather seat. She was plenty mad at him, but not quite as mad as that. She took the cup and loosened her seatbelt. “You better not look.”
For the umpteenth time that evening, she pulled her dress up past her hips and her panties down. Then she scooched forward till her crotch hung over the seat, her knees spread at an awkward angle. She gazed down past her cleavage and positioned the cup where she thought it should go—all while desperately holding on.
“Could you lay the towel out around the cup in case you miss?” Kyle asked.
“You’re not supposed to be looking!”
“Just guessing you didn’t do that.”
She did as he requested. Then she held the cup back up to her vulva, just as her bladder released of its own accord. Pee shot forward, past the lip and into the towel. She raised the cup, but then the spray inched sideways, missing again. “Ack! My aim is terrible.”
“Not what I want to hear.”
“Oh yeah? Then don’t make me—ack!—wear these stupid panties next time.” She finally got the cup well positioned, but then they hit a bump, and her pee shot up and over it again. “I do think the towel was a good idea, though.” Finally her erratic stream slowed to a dribble and then ceased. She wiped herself off with the towel, including her hand that she’d sprayed. Once properly dressed, she said, “Okay, I’m finished.”
“Well done, “ said Kyle.
“Um, what do I do with this?” She held up the cup of warm yellow liquid.
“Toss it out the window?”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Then better save it till we get home. Can you find a lid anywhere?”
“This is so gross.” She attached the matching lid and set the cup in a holder.
* * *
When they arrived home, Courtney ran straight to the bathroom—this time not to pee, but to shower off the remains of the evening and wrap herself snuggly in an overnight. Soon she was clean and well protected, and her anxiety finally subsided. She emerged wearing pajamas over the thick diaper. Her butt looked enormous in them, but at this point she didn’t care.
“Now congratulations are in order,” said Kyle from his spot on the bed.
She looked at him quizzically. “For what, exactly?”
“For making it home dry—for crossing that hurdle.”
“Congratulations for using the men’s room and almost getting caught? Or for peeing in an alley like some stray animal—in fact, literally right next to one? For peeing in a urinal and a cup—and missing both targets? This has been one of the most degrading nights of my life. You should not have tricked me into wearing panties.”
Kyle was silent for a moment. “You could have easily borrowed a diaper from someone in the bathroom. Why didn’t you?”
“Because all the women there were…changing their diapers like toddlers, and I—”
“You wanted no part of it.”
Courtney pouted. “I intended to wear a pull-up tonight in case of an accident, and not to have to change it.”
“But…you’d have still needed the men’s room, or been standing in line all night. And…wearing a pull-up, would you have peed in the alley or the cup? No, you’d have simply wet yourself, just like all those women.”
Now Courtney was silent.
“Sounds to me like you’re angry over how you had to deal with the situation, not over the cause.”
Deep down, she hated that he was right.
“I placed those panties in your purse because I thought you were ready for them—and you were, kind of—though too afraid to realize it.”
Courtney still stared, her anger turning to insight. “You raised the bar…just as you said you would.”
“And you rose to meet it. Up till now, the longest you held on was, what, thirty seconds? You lasted three times that before using the urinal. Once in panties tonight, you peed in lots of novel places but never down your skirt. You shouldn’t be ashamed, but proud of yourself—I know I am.”
“I have two things to say to you. Number one: Never. Do that. Again. And number two: Thank you for believing in me, sweetheart—even more so than I believe in myself.” |
Chapter 10. Lovers’ Quarrels
Courtney continued to mull over her night out with Kyle. Though she hated to admit it, his scheming had revealed a degree of control she hadn’t known she possessed. She stood reminded that learning to ride a bicycle required ditching the training wheels and climbing on, despite the fear of falling. That night, though, had also brought her face-to-face with the jagged pavement. What if there were no alley, no urinal, no cup—nothing but her clothes to absorb the hot mess, as the whole room looked on? While she appreciated the sentiment, Kyle’s confidence in her seemed so misplaced.
True, her bladder had pulled through for her that night, but it often still betrayed her. One time she was up late completing a project for work when the urge came on, seemingly containable. She finished recording her train of thought before hurrying to the toilet—too late to avoid soaking her underwear. Another time, she burst out laughing at something Kyle said at dinner, and she felt her pad grow damp, then damper still—until she looked down to see herself sitting in a puddle. She wondered why such incidents never seemed to faze him. As she emerged from the shower, he would simply hold out a clean set of underwear, a sympathetic smile on his face.
She wore them often now—her stock of three grown to twelve in rainbow colors, thanks to Allison. How else could Courtney prove to the world that she had moved beyond diapers? How else could she prove it to herself?
“Ready to go?” Kyle asked one morning.
“Looks windy out—let me tie my hair.” She pulled it back in a high ponytail and tucked the loose strands behind her ear. Then they set out on a neighborhood stroll.
“Breeze feels great, huh?”
“Sure does—whoops! Maybe shorts would have been wiser.”
“Don’t worry,” Kyle smirked. “No one saw your purple underwear.”
“I sure hope not.” As they continued chatting, Courtney nearly managed to forget what lay beneath her skirt. Lots of people were out this Sunday—she no different from any of them.
“Let’s cut back through the park,” Kyle suggested. “A bit out of the way, but—”
“Ooh, let’s go! I bet the roses are still in bloom.” They crossed two streets and ambled past the ballfield.
Up ahead, a group of women had assembled near the central fountain, holding signs that read:
“Close the gender toilet gap”
“Free diapers = A women’s health issue”
“No subsidy, no pees!”
A woman began speaking into a megaphone: “Our taxes pay for public toilets. Every school, every museum, every park offers them free of charge. But for whom? Men primarily. Aside from the obvious, what use are they to women—bolted to the floor and forever out of reach? The only toilet a woman can count on is one wrapped between her legs. Five or more a day she goes through, costing over $100 a month…and she pays every cent of it!”
The protesters booed and hollered.
“All we’re asking,” the speaker continued, “is that the state chip in a mere twenty percent. That’s what Proposition 47 would do. Look, people—whether we want to be or not, women are in diapers. It’s time our elected leaders acknowledge that—and start treating us fairly.”
The small crowd cheered. Then they started chanting, “What do we want? Diaper support! When do we want it? Now!”
All around, people turned to watch the spectacle. Many of the protesters wore skintight leggings that highlighted the ruffled padding beneath. A few even had diapers on over their jeans.
“Wow,” said Kyle.
“Quit staring, honey,” Courtney chided.
Then a man yelled, “Sure, have the government pay for my boxer shorts too. Y’all are crazy!”
A protester approached Courtney and handed her a pamphlet. “Thanks,” she mumbled. She took Kyle’s hand and retreated from the square.
“What do you think?” he asked. “Should Uncle Sam pay for your diapers?”
“Ah, but I’m not wearing one,” she retorted.
“Touché.”
Feeling anxious all of a sudden, Courtney scanned the area. Every park has toilets but this one, apparently. She took a deep breath. “Personally, I think those ladies have it all wrong. They should be asking why we’re in diapers to begin with.”
Kyle laughed. “Isn’t it obvious why? Not everyone shares your skills, remember.”
“Right—maybe because we have no opportunity to develop any. Given the dreadful alternative, of course we wear them…but it’s still humiliating.”
“Huh—and I figured girls felt sexy in diapers.”
“Well sure, but…you’re peeing in them, multiple times per day. Afterwards you’re soaking wet till you finally get to change. Until you’ve experienced it, I’m not sure you can judge.”
“Does sound fairly annoying.”
“Mm hmm. Also just the way you’re treated because of it.”
“Like, how so?”
“Like at work, never getting to present to clients.”
“And you’re hoping underwear could change all that?”
“If we could learn to keep them dry—yeah, maybe we’d gain more respect. Remember that article I showed you? Jane Wolcott thinks we’re plenty capable, and that no one should be assuming otherwise. That’s what the protest should be about.”
Kyle gazed at her. “Well, I support you 100%.” Then he pointed up ahead. “Look! You were right.”
Courtney’s eyes lit up. “Roses in bloom—so gorgeous!” They sat on a park bench to take in the splendor.
Kyle leaned over and whispered, “Not so gorgeous as you.” He wrapped his arm around her.
Courtney rested her head on his shoulder, any recent reservations about him drifting away. Would he finally say the words? She waited patiently.
“Courtney, I—”
“—Ohmygosh!” She sat up straight and glanced around. “No bathrooms here, are there?”
“None but nature’s own.” He pointed to the bushes.
“Don’t be ridiculous—there’s people everywhere.” She wished she could replay the last twenty seconds, only this time wearing a diaper. Without a care, she would fill it while Kyle spoke the lines—even though that went against everything she’d just said.
“You didn’t go before we left?”
She thought for a moment. “Can’t remember.”
“Can you make it home?”
“Um—maybe?” The situation within her underwear felt more manageable than some, but home was two whole blocks away. Maybe just pee herself right here, and Kyle fetch a towel?
“You got this, hon. Easy-peasy, right?” He helped her up from the bench.
“Uh huh.” Courtney clung to him as she walked, her balance compromised by the crossing of her legs. She wondered how she must look to everyone around them.
“Just one more block.”
A whole one, still? The fire in her groin kept giving off sparks, but she contained it well enough…until the bark of a dog stole her concentration. She froze in place and struggled to seal off the leak, her hand clenched tight around Kyle’s.
Courtney looked around her. Happy couples were milling about in the sunshine. Children were flying kites, carefree and joyous—while she stood pressing her thighs together for dear life. And Kyle didn’t find this concerning?
“Ready to go on?” he asked.
She nodded.
“There’s home.” He pointed down the block. “Easy-peasy.”
By the time they reached the front door, Courtney was in agony. “I don’t think I’ll—ooh—make it up both flights.”
“You’ve lasted three whole minutes. What’s thirty seconds more?”
Three minutes, that was it? “But it’s stairs, Kyle. Stairs are—ooh!” A violent spurt escaped, and it took every ounce of concentration to prevent it from erupting into something more. As she climbed the steps, the fire within swelled to an inferno.
Kyle ran ahead to get the door. Courtney charged past him towards the single pool of water that could douse this flame. She yanked down her underwear and landed hard on the seat. Then she shut her eyes and listened to the cool refreshing sound of pee splashing into the basin.
“Easy-peasy,” said Kyle from the doorway.
She smiled at him—but inwardly she wondered how he could say that, when it obviously wasn’t true.
* * *
Later that week, Courtney lay naked from the waist down, her thighs spread and strapped into stirrups, a pee funnel encircling her vulva.
Alison spoke. “Let’s run a few tests while that lemonade works through your system. Can you cough for me?”
Courtney heard a slight splashing sound as she did.
“Any improvement with the stress leaking?”
“A little,” said Courtney.
“And any improvement at night?”
“A little.”
“Well, it’s great news about your daytime wettings. You’ve managed to cut those down considerably?”
“If I’m super diligent. But…I don’t know, I thought toilet-training would feel different than this.”
“How do you mean?”
Courtney tried to explain. “The other day, I was at brunch with my boyfriend, wearing no protection other than a pad, and I made it through the whole meal before rushing to the toilet and peeing in it successfully.”
“That’s great, Courtney!”
“I thought so too. But then afterwards, Kyle went himself, like it was child’s play.”
“Well, he’s been doing that all his life.”
“It’s maddening. He struts about, and when has to pee, he just goes and does it—while for me, making it fifteen feet from the couch to the toilet is a major victory.” She paused to reflect. “I read this article one time called ‘Managing Female Incontinence’—
“—by Andrew Young?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. I feel like that’s all I’m doing—managing it. I’ve trained myself to remember to pee at regular intervals, watch how much I drink, never stray far from a toilet. That’s the only way I can stay dry, not because I’ve learned to control my bladder. Maybe I’ve toilet-trained my brain—but physically, I’m getting nowhere fast. Sunday I wore panties for a short stroll around the neighborhood and nearly flooded them.”
“But you didn’t?”
“Nope, and Kyle commended me for it. Yet honestly, that I avoided doing so was a miracle. I just don’t understand how he can be so blasé about the whole affair. It’s almost like…he enjoys watching me struggle.” Courtney fell silent, surprised at what she heard herself say.
Alison nodded slowly. “Let’s finish the exam and then talk some more, okay?”
“Alright.”
“These days, how long you can prevent urination?”
“A few minutes, tops—other times way less than that. It’s so unpredictable.”
“I understand. And right now, do you need to pee?”
“Um…” Courtney struggled to provide an answer. “How long has it been since I drank the lemonade?”
“Don’t go by that. What does your body tell you?”
“It never tells me anything.”
Allison nodded again.
“I have this distant memory…of sensing an impending need when I was much younger—but now I couldn’t tell you what it felt like. I can’t even reproduce the sensation in my mind. These days, all I feel is sudden desperation.”
“That could still change.” Allison finished recording Courtney’s answers. “Alright, let’s try the diode test. I’ll flip this down now, okay?”
Courtney felt the funnel slide away, replaced by a cold object pressed deep inside. She squeezed as hard as she could.
“Four. Nice job!”
“May I try again? I can do better than that.” She squeezed a second time.
“Five, that time. Alright, last try.”
Courtney squeezed until her muscles gave out from exhaustion.
“Four again. We have to use the average of the three.” Allison removed the diode and repositioned the funnel.
Virtually no improvement in three months. “At least I don’t freak out anymore when you swivel that thing down,” Courtney quipped. But then her smiled faded. “Why is this all so hard?”
“Well, you read Jane’s article.” Allison pointed to a diagram on the wall. “This shows the female urinary tract. When I first saw you, you had zero voluntary control over these muscles here. Voiding for you had reverted back to the reflex pattern of infancy. That you’ve regained any functionality at all is something to celebrate—and it flies in the face of quack theories like Dr. Young’s.”
At that moment, Courtney felt a pressure mount. Strapped in the stirrups, she couldn’t clench her legs together as she normally would, nor could she wedge her hand there with the funnel in the way—though, it was unclear how much those measures actually helped. She shut her eyes and focused all attention on the one place that could withstand this onslaught, her only bastion of defense.
“Good, Courtney!” Allison encouraged.
But the pressure grew stronger and stronger, like a lance piercing through her. She fought against it until her efforts collapsed, and pee went splattering down the funnel.
“One minute, twenty-six seconds,” Allison announced. “That’s really good.”
Not nearly good enough. Courtney gazed at the diagram of her dysfunctional urinary tract. Apparently, her urethra was not even two inches long—this tiny bit of tubing that if she could only hold shut, would mean a lifetime free of diapers. But to do so was beyond her. “Can you tell me,” she asked, “how many women have actually succeeded at this? How many have you helped toilet-train?”
“To full continence?” Allison was silent for a moment. “You would be the first, Courtney.”
* * *
That Saturday, Courtney lay sprawled on her bed in a red lace bra and panties while Kyle kissed her all over. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.
Soon he reached for her underwear.
“Wow, sex with my bra still on? That’s new for us. Less bouncy, I suppose.”
“Who says we’re having sex right now?” He slid her panties off.
“Well, I just assumed—”
“—I’m a lucky man, Courtney. Who else on this Earth gets sustained access to his girl’s pussy? Your newfound bladder control opens a world of possibility.”
“Hmm, like what…? Holy mother!”
“Should I stop?”
“No, no…keep doing it, keep doing it!” Courtney’s eyelids drifted closed as Kyle’s tongue danced across her labia…
“Sweetheart?” he said at last.
“Why are you stopping?” Moments ago, she’d been so close.
“Um, shouldn’t you go pee really quick?”
Urgh. Since the near disaster on Sunday, his reminders had seemed to multiply, coming always at the most inconvenient times. She glanced at the clock. “Ack! Kyle, of course I should go. And then we have to get ready. Aren’t they arriving at six?”
“That’s in forty-five minutes. Go and pee, and then we can remove your bra and finally—”
“—Not till after the movie, Kyle. I still have to shower, do my hair and makeup…”
“Alright,” he muttered.
* * *
Before long the doorbell rang.
“They’re here!” Kyle called.
“Almost ready!” Courtney turned in the mirror. Her black skirt, unworn since college, gripped her hips alluringly—the perfect contrast to her flowy purple top.
“You look stunning,” Krystal said as Courtney made her appearance.
“You too, hon—I love that dress!”
“Not too tight for mixed company?” asked Krystal’s date.
Krystal spun around. Her dress stretched taught across her shapely rear and the fluffy padding that encased it, but the fit seemed fine.
“I wouldn’t say so, Joe,” Courtney replied.
“Shall we?” Kyle cut in. “Movie starts at 8:00.”
On their way to the car, the girls let the guys walk on ahead.
“How’d you get your skirt to look like that?” Krystal whispered.
“No diaper lines, you mean?”
“Wait, don’t tell me…”
“Kyle talked me into it. Think it’s a bad idea?”
“Of course it is.” Krystal knew all about Courtney’s misadventure clubbing.
At the car, Kyle said in a fake British accent, “After you, darling.”
“Thank you, sir,” Courtney responded in kind. The two of them scooted into the back seat.
As the car pulled from the lot, he whispered, “You remembered to go, before, right?”
She glared at him. “Yes…before getting ready.”
“Kyle, how’s work?” Joe asked.
“Same old. Reboot, reformat, repeat.”
“Ah. Well, I just got promoted.”
“Wow, congratulations!” Courtney cheered. She adjusted her skirt. Sitting on the firm car seat still felt odd with no padding.
“Assistant manager now.”
“Not assistant to the manager?” Kyle chuckled.
Krystal suppressed a giggle.
As Joe explained his new role, Courtney continued to fidget in her seat. What if her friend was right—that wearing panties to a full-length movie was a terrible mistake? Her mind conjured memories of streaks down a dress, a splattered urinal, puddles in an alley. She thought, too, of Allison’s words. Not a single woman had succeeded at this. And yet, that notion propelled her forward. If she could be the first, then others might follow. The fate of her gender rode on her shoulders—or as Jenny might say, on her cooch.
When Joe finished, Courtney said, “I have work news, as well.”
“Yeah, she just took on this big new marketing project,” Krystal added.
“That’s cool,” said Joe. No one asked anything more.
* * *
Soon they arrived at the theatre.
“Ice cream, anyone?” Krystal proposed. Joe looked at her, and she shrugged.
“Sure, plenty of time,” said Kyle. Then he nudged Courtney and whispered, “Shouldn’t you—”
“—I know!” she whispered back. She turned to Krystal. “Shall we take a little walk?”
“Okay. Joe, please order me a chocolate cookie sundae.”
In the ladies room, Krystal peaked down her skirt to check her indicator. “Still dry,” she announced. “Just here to keep you company.”
“Thanks, hon.” Courtney shut herself inside the stall. “So how many dates is this now with Joe?”
“I’ve lost track. It’s becoming a thing.”
“That’s awesome, Krystal.” Courtney flushed, concerned by the scant volume she’d produced. She might need to slip out again before the movie.
“Sure you don’t want a diaper? I have plenty of spares.”
Ooh, it was tempting… Then she could stop feeling anxious and simply enjoy the evening. But Kyle would notice for sure—with all his subtle feels and glances. Plus, she doubted her tight skirt even left room for one. “I want to keep trying this,” she said haltingly.
Ice cream awaited them when they returned, a cherry sundae for Courtney and a small chocolate cone for Krystal. As they took their seats, Joe turned to his date and whispered, “No leaks, right?”—plenty loud enough for everyone to hear.
Krystal shook her head demurely.
Kyle wrapped an arm around Courtney’s waist. “Warm enough, sweetheart?”
“For now. Let’s see after this sundae.” She felt his hand drop to where her diaper should have been, his fingers caressing the all-natural padding at her hip. She loved that she could wear this skirt again without even losing a pound. It made it that much easier to enjoy the ice cream.
Krystal finished her tiny cone and said, “Joe—always looking out for my figure!” She yanked at her top until it exposed a bit less of her bulging cleavage.
What was Krystal talking about? So what if she wasn’t rail thin? The woman was gorgeous.
Joe rattled off another work story, with Kyle feigning interest as he fiddled with the hem of Courtney’s skirt. Krystal took a large swig from her water bottle while she waited for everyone else to finish.
“Careful, honey,” said Joe. “It’s a long movie.”
Krystal set down the bottle. She looked as though she might say something, but then her face grew still. Had she just—
“That’s very true,” Kyle added, glancing Courtney’s way, “and it’s starting soon…”
She mouthed back, “Will you stop it?” Then she stood and grabbed her friend’s hand. “Please excuse us,” she said aloud. For the second time that hour, the two of them stole away to the changing room.
Inside, Krystal headed straight for a padded bench and lay down. “Good timing,” she murmured. “Holy cow this thing is soaked—and to think how cute it looked when I first fastened it.”
Courtney lifted the toilet lid and sat. “Thank Kyle and his ‘handy reminders.’ Speaking of which, what’s with Joe tonight?”
“I don’t know…he wasn’t like that when we first met. He used to compliment my chest. Now he chides me about my waistline.”
“Well, does he want you curvy or slim? Can’t have it both ways.”
Krystal laughed. Then her voice grew softer. “Plus, sometimes I feel like a child when I’m around him.”
“I can relate,” said Courtney.
“But you’re out in public with no protection… Kyle has reason for concern—Joe doesn’t. I can manage my own diaper—I’ve worn them for how long?”
“That’s so true,” said Courtney. Maybe she should apologize for mouthing Kyle off. “Well, I hope you two can work it out—he’s super good looking.”
“I know, right?”
Courtney stood and peered at the crystal-clear water in the bowl. No matter—doubtless, Kyle would badger her to go again partway through the film.
“Positive you don’t want one?” Krystal asked, holding up her purse.
* * *
As they waited for the show to begin, Courtney leaned over to Kyle. “Sorry I snapped at you, honey.”
“Shh, I’m watching the previews,” he replied.
So Courtney turned and chatted with Krystal while sharing her popcorn. Krystal hadn’t ordered any herself.
When the movie started, Courtney tried her best to stay focused on the plot. Her pantyliner, already damp from intermittent leaks, felt cold as the air-conditioned breeze blew right through it. She reached under the seat and pulled Kyle’s coat up around herself. Should she flee to the bathroom again? Not yet—the show had only just begun, and it was so nice and warm under the coat. She grabbed another handful of popcorn. So salty and delicious.
After a slow start, the plot began to pick up. “Who’s that, again?” Courtney whispered to Kyle. She wished she’d paid closer attention earlier.
“Shh.”
Forget Kyle. He was obviously mad at her. “Krystal,” she whispered, “who’s that man in black?”
Krystal explained as best she could. Then she reached for Courtney’s popcorn, but Joe slapped her hand away. Wow, this guy was a piece of work.
Courtney pursed her lips, her mouth dry from all the salt. She looked around. Krystal had stowed her water bottle under the seat, purposefully out of reach—so Courtney gulped down a third of Kyle’s cherry soda. Alright, how long had it been so far? She had forgotten to mark the time when the show began. She had better go—just as soon as this scene ended.
~ ~
A giant robot marched onto the screen, raising a sort of laser at the protagonist and his newfound girl. She clutched at him in fear, as the robot said, “I have you now!”
“No you don’t!” yelled the mysterious man in black, jumping onscreen. Was he an F.B.I. agent? A Russian spy? His accent was hard to place.
“Ha, ha, ha, ha!” bellowed the evil robot, swiping the man to the ground. The robot trained his laser at the trembling girlfriend’s chest, barely contained in her top.
“Oh, I’m gonna wet my diaper!” She buried her face in her boyfriend’s arms.
The camera then panned to three other robots sprinting forward. This truly marked the end for the hero and his girl. But then Joe and Kyle started cheering. Wait, these must be good robots! Couldn’t they color-code them or something?
A loud battle ensued, with such a dizzying succession of cuts that Courtney couldn’t tell which side was winning. Every so often, the camera would pan back to the cowering girlfriend, her cleavage even more exposed than Krystal’s.
~ ~
A fierce pressure jolted Courtney back to reality, emanating from deep between her legs. She glanced at Kyle, too engrossed in the film to notice the terror in her eyes. This one felt particularly urgent, and the toilet was so, so far. Why hadn’t he reminded her earlier? She rose abruptly, crossing past Krystal and Joe on the way to the aisle.
The door opened again behind her as she exited the cinema. “Courtney, are you alright?” Krystal called. “You left so awfully fast.”
Courtney shook her head frantically. She walked a few more feet, holding her thighs together in a fashion that caused her hips to sashay. A squirt escaped, and she struggled to contain it before continuing on. Why hadn’t Kyle reminded her to go? Because she had snapped at him earlier, that’s why.
“You’re halfway there, hon,” Krystal encouraged.
Again Courtney paused, but her efforts this time were less effective. She could feel the pad starting to fail, warm droplets escaping out the sides. She resumed her journey, nearly jogging now with knees still pressed together.
And then, “Ohmygosh…ohh noo!” Courtney leaned back against the wall as her bladder let go, spraying pee into her underwear and all down her legs. She watched her puddle form patterns along the tile floor. When the flow finally ceased, Courtney looked up, tears forming.
“Courtney, spin around,” Krystal instructed.
“What?”
“Just do it… See? The black skirt conceals it really well. I say we make a break for it.”
Courtney wiped a tear away.
Krystal grabbed her friend’s hand and headed for the exit at the end of the hall. As they walked, Courtney still felt drips running down her legs. They pushed through the door out to the parking lot.
“Good thing Joe lent me his spare key.” Krystal reached into her purse, and the car doors chirped.
“Just a minute, ladies!”
They turned to see a man in glasses flanked by two security guards.
“I think you better come with us.”
* * *
“Is this you?” asked the manager in glasses. They sat in his office, viewing security camera footage.
“Um, no?” said Courtney. She watched herself propped against the wall, pee splashing onto the floor. Reliving it in third person was as traumatic as experiencing it firsthand.
“You must have us…confused?” stammered Krystal.
The film then showed them marching down the hall, drops of pee forming a trail behind. On a second screen, they could be seen approaching the exit, their faces clearly discernable.
“Fine, it’s us. I’m…sorry my diaper leaked all over your tile floor. We should have stayed to clean it up. I was just…really embarrassed.” Courtney shifted in her seat. By now her legs had mostly dried, but her wet underwear lay glued to her rear.
Just then the door behind them flew open. “I think they’re back here,” said a female voice that Courtney vaguely recognized.
“Sweetheart, we’ve been looking all over for you!” said Kyle. Then he saw the footage. “Come on, man, she’s humiliated enough as it is. Can I please just take her home?”
Joe cut in. “Sir, the movie was three hours long, and a diaper can only hold so much. I implored them to monitor their water intake, but they didn’t listen.”
With that, demure Krystal turned and shouted, “Joe, you’re a pompous ass!”
“She’s not wearing one…” said the familiar voice.
“What?” said Joe.
Courtney looked up to see the waitress who had lent her the towel on her birthday. Apparently, she worked Saturday nights at the theatre.
“I thought I recognized her boyfriend. When they ate at the restaurant I work at, something similar happened. Seems they like to play sex games that involve her wetting underwear made for girls. She claimed she was ‘toilet-training,’ but obviously that makes no sense. I spent a good part of my shift cleaning up the mess she made.”
“Is it true?” asked the manager. “You came to my theatre with no diaper on?”
“What? No!”
“Care to prove it?”
“I’m not lifting my skirt for you, you perv.”
“Hmm, then I’ll stick by what our trusted employee says. Frankly, I’ve never seen a diaper leak so badly. I highly doubt you’re wearing one.”
“Are you aware of section 16 of the county sanitation code, ma’am?” asked a security guard. He read from his phone. “‘Females shall wear proper urinary protection at all public pools and beaches, entertainment venues, and places of business. Violation is subject to fine not to exceed $300.’”
“Thank you, officer,” said the manager. “Ma’am, you’re lucky we’re not pressing charges. Don’t bother coming back to my theatre, though. Take your sex games someplace else.”
* * *
At home that night, Courtney sat sobbing against Kyle’s shoulder. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m hopeless at it.”
“Let’s sleep on it, honey. You’ve had a rough night.”
“Why didn’t I go earlier?”
“It’s my fault. I should have reminded you.”
“Your fault that I peed all over the floor?”
Kyle sighed. “Something like this was bound to happen eventually.”
Courtney sat up straight. “Wait, what do you mean?”
He looked into her eyes. “Do you feel anything at all, before the final minute or so?”
Courtney didn’t answer.
“Tell me truthfully.”
“I feel nothing.”
“And it’s been like that for how many weeks?”
“What are you implying?”
“Come on, Courtney. What’s more likely—that every woman on earth has been made to believe they’re incontinent, or that it’s you who’s deluded.”
“Deluded? But…then why did you support me?”
“You seemed to care so much about it. I wanted you to succeed.”
Courtney stared for a moment. “It’s no secret that I’d like to lose five pounds. But whenever I try dieting, you pay no regard. I’d like to be more assertive at work, but you ignore my efforts there, as well. So why this? Why are you so committed to my toilet-training, if all along you figured I’d fail at it? Unless…”
“I wanted to help you try, at least.”
“…you wanted to watch me flounder. To see me wet my clothes—”
“—No.”
“—because it turns you on.”
The look on his face said it all.
Courtney pointed to the door. “Get. Out!”
Edited April 29, 2021 by brucejedi
(see edit history) |
Chapter 11. Revelations
The next morning, Kyle and Courtney sat in her living room, by her invitation.
She shared a story. “When I was thirteen years old, Jenny slept over. We talked late into the night, mostly about boys. But at one point I left to change my diaper, and when I returned, she asked, ‘Have you ever tried the toilet instead?’ I told her, ‘Here or there in an emergency—never on purpose,’ and with a gleam in her eye, she said, ‘We should try it!’ So we made a pact that the next day we’d attempt to pee only on the toilet and never in our diapers.”
“I always wondered what girls did at slumber parties,” Kyle observed.
“Yeah, so the next morning I peed in the shower—which Jenny said was cheating, but whatever. Then I joined my family and her for breakfast. Eventually I felt something—I mean, I actually felt it—maybe because I was paying far more attention than I normally would. I asked to be excused, and then I whispered to Jenny, ‘Time to pee…’ She grinned—you know like she still does, ear to ear—and I guess my mom saw or heard or something.
“Moments later, I was facing the toilet with my diaper pulled down, trying to figure out the next step, when the door flew open, and my mom said, ‘What are you doing, young lady?’ I replied, ‘Um, peeing?’ and she said, ‘Not in there, you’re not,’ and she literally demanded that I pull my diaper back up, even knowing I was about to wet it. I still remember her exact words: ‘You will never be capable of making it to the toilet, Courtney. Don’t embarrass yourself by trying.’ And that was the last time I ever did, until this year.”
“How did Jenny do?”
“Made it there once, maybe? But here’s the thing, Kyle. That morning I had felt the urge to go, and I wasn’t nearly desperate.”
“An ex told me something similar,” he said.
“So doesn’t that prove we are capable?”
“Of what, exactly? Back then, could you pee in the toilet consistently?”
“Well, if I’d been encouraged to…”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“I’m just saying, the longer I wore diapers, the more incontinent I became. So it’s environmental, not innate.”
“Courtney, diapers are a modern invention.” Kyle assumed an authoritative tone. “Evolutionarily, women were usually outdoors. A lead-time of a minute or so is all they would have needed. I’m guessing that’s all the control you had when you were little…and all you’ll ever reattain.”
His words stung. “So why do men have more?”
“Peeing might disturb the hunt for animals. Plus, we have muscles down there used for sex, so it’s natural we’d repurpose them for holding urine.”
“What’s your point, Kyle?”
“That granted, wearing diapers might lead to dependence, or loss of control or whatever—but they’re also a logical way to accommodate your gender’s natural limitations, in a world where you can’t pee just anywhere. Seriously, what’s the alternative?”
Courtney said nothing.
“And we haven’t begun to address that you still leak when you laugh, or sneeze, or stand up too quickly, or that your overnight is soaking wet every morning.”
“Are you finished?” she asked.
Kyle nodded.
“And that’s how you’ve felt all along—that my toilet-training is a fool’s errand?”
“More like—came to believe so, the longer you struggled at it.”
“But you still got off by seeing me humiliate myself?”
“Uh…”
“Tell the truth.”
“I never wanted you to suffer. But…yes, I find your accidents sexy.”
“I’m sorry, Kyle. I just don’t think we can be together.”
* * *
That evening, Krystal and Courtney sat sprawled on the couch, each with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.
“Ice cream is so much better braless,” Krystal mused. “You’re not left wondering whether it’ll still fit in a week.”
“I wish I had that problem,” said Courtney. “For me it’s best in sweatpants—for similar reasons.”
“In sweatpants too—I totally agree.”
It was heartbreaking to see Krystal in such a state, normally so put together. Upon arriving, she had gazed up at Courtney with watery eyes, her round face flush from crying. The effect was jarring—Krystal wore heels so often that Courtney had forgotten her friend was actually shorter than she was. On the couch now, Krystal’s heavy chest sagged within her shirt, causing it to ride up slightly and reveal the small tummy role that her leggings had created. The floral trim of her diaper even sat exposed. Of course, Courtney probably looked no better.
“I’m sorry about Joe,” she said.
“He was such a jerk. Why do I keep dating guys like that?”
Courtney often wondered the same thing. Krystal had so much to offer—why had she so little confidence?
“So who’s right,” Courtney asked, “Kyle or Allison?”
Krystal shrugged. “Who’s to say?”
“If you had to guess.”
“Well, you’ve taught me I could probably be less incontinent than I am.”
“But…?”
“Well…what’s the point, really? That if I worked at it incessantly, I could make it to the toilet some of the time? That I could stay dry for a few hours by repeatedly reminding myself to go? Even then, I’d be too scared to try underwear. So isn’t it easier just to go randomly in my diaper, since I’d be wearing one anyway?” Krystal glanced down, made a face, and tugged her shirt lower to cover everything up.
Courtney realized then that Krystal wasn’t just upset about Joe. She could snag a new boyfriend in a heartbeat. Without makeup to conceal it, her angelic face betrayed a far deeper regret…over the life she had forged—a life of serving coffee, getting hit on, and wetting her diaper. Yet Krystal would never try to recast it, for she knew no other. Who knows, maybe there was none?
Finally Courtney spoke. “So you agree with Kyle.”
“I’m sorry, Courtney, but how long has it been?”
“Since I started toilet-training? Half a year.”
“And you’re still in the same place you were three months ago?”
“Sensation-wise, yeah. Control-wise, more or less. Though, I’ve gotten better at remembering to go.”
“That’s something, I suppose.”
“But you think I’m pretty much stuck where I am.”
Krystal looked at her and shrugged.
* * *
On Monday, Courtney called Allison’s clinic. The doctor wasn’t in, so she scheduled an appointment with the receptionist. Courtney wanted answers. Why had no woman before her succeeded at toilet-training? Why was she failing at it too?
Her boss strolled calmly past her desk on the way to the restroom. Minutes later he returned. “Courtney, would you join me in my office, please?”
She smoothed her skirt out over her ruffles and followed him in.
“I’ve reviewed your work on the women’s office-wear project. It’s quite good.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“However, I’m putting Jim in charge for the next phase.”
“The…new hire?” Courtney choked on her words.
“He’s a local expert on women’s apparel—and a trusted friend. Look at these magnificent concept drawings he produced.”
She stared at the pictures of dolled-up office ladies in skirts so tight their diapers showed right through. She began to form a response, but a twinge between her legs grabbed her attention. “I…I don’t…”
“Yes, Courtney?”
The bathroom was within range, adjacent to the one her boss had just used without even a thought. All she need do was excuse herself and hurry down the hall, but that simply wasn’t done. “I don’t…know about those drawings,” she stuttered while trying to hold on. “Do you…really think that’s what women want to wear to work?”
“Take that up with Jim—or Mr. Flanders you should call him now.”
A torrent of objections flooded Courtney’s brain, but she voiced none of them. Instead, she flooded her diaper in front of her boss, her eyes doing their best to conceal it. When it finished, she said softly, “Is that all, Mr. Mills?”
He smiled at her condescendingly. “Hang in there, toots. Your time will come.”
* * *
Thursday afternoon, Courtney left work early for her urology appointment. In the examination room, she changed into a dry pull-up and waited for the doctor to arrive. Finally the door opened, and a middle-aged man in a white coat entered.
“Dr. Peters,” he said, extending his hand.
“Um, where’s Allison?”
“Diaz? She no longer works here.”
“Wait, what?”
“Courtney, correct? May I ask what that is you’re wearing?”
“The pull-up? It’s from Allison.”
“I figured. And I suppose she has you futilely attempting to potty-train?”
“Um, well—”
“Had much luck with that?” The doctor snickered.
“What happened to Dr. Diaz? I’d like to speak with her.”
“Her position was terminated. Her contract stated very clearly that under no condition was she to pursue the debunked work of her doctoral advisor.”
“Jane Wolcott…” Courtney murmured.
“How much did Diaz tell you?”
“Enough…to know the truth.”
“Did she? I’ve reviewed your file. You still lack functional bladder awareness or control after six months of treatment. Even now, seems you can barely keep your clothes dry. The truth, Courtney, is that you’re incontinent and always will be, just like all women.”
“But…the prophecy—”
“Wolcott’s redacted paper? Hogwash. No sensible urologist buys into any of it.”
She stared at the doctor, incredulous.
“Prophecies are the stuff of religion, Courtney, not science. Wolcott advanced a provocative theory—but without evidence, it’s nothing more than speculative fancy.”
“But the university pulled the plug too early—prevented enough evidence from accumulating.”
“Is that what Diaz said? And did she mention why they pulled the plug?”
Courtney waited.
“The participants revolted. They issued a formal complaint to the dean of the med school that their involvement felt pointless and humiliating. Don’t believe me? Here, see for yourself the results of Wolcott’s famous experiment.” He handed her a slip of paper. “Use these login credentials on Reddit. Any further questions, I’m happy to answer them… And in the meantime, wearing a full-absorbency diaper would be a whole lot safer than that flimsy thing you have on.”
* * *
Courtney rushed home and opened her laptop. The credentials the doctor provided brought her to a secret Reddit group called “Diaperless Divas.” The description on the right read, “This group is for the participants in Dr. Wolcott’s experimental trial #2574 to share experiences and tips in their quest for diaper independence. Happy peeing (in the toilet, that is)!”
Several topics filled the screen, from tips for staying dry, to dealing with skeptical partners, to fashion advice sans diaper. Pinned at the top, though, was the longest thread of all, entitled “This actually working for anyone?” Courtney clicked there and scrolled down the page.
“I did everything the research assistant suggested—using a timer, practicing with the diode, etc. Nothing worked. Five months in and I still feel nothing till the last possible moment.”
“I can’t feel anything, either. Does anyone?”
“I don’t.”
“Anyone here actually LIKE peeing in a diaper? I miss it.”
“Tried wearing a pull-up today. Gosh, these don’t hold much, do they?”
“The RA recommended spending a day in underwear. I ended up making puddles on the floor.”
“Her name is Allison, by the way. She’s nice, but clueless. She keeps saying, ‘Making progress, making progress,’ but I can only stay dry by preemptively peeing like ALL THE TIME. It’s not practical.”
“Continent would mean (a) knowing when you have to go and (b) ability to hold for long periods (e.g., >30 min). Anyone have those yet?”
“I don’t.”
“Nope.”
“Eight months in, and I’ve reached neither of those.”
“I’ve soaked more clothes than I can count. I’m done.”
The thread continued like that for pages—with no one indicating an inkling of success beyond what Courtney had experienced. At the very bottom, the discussion turned in a new direction.
“Spoke to the dean today. He expressed surprise that the study was allowed to go forward at all. He suggested filing a formal complaint with the human subjects board.”
“Are you going to?”
“I’m willing—anyone want to join?”
“Count me in.”
“Just show me where to sign.”
The final entry read: “Dear participants, by now you should have received notice that this study is officially suspended. Consequently, this subreddit is closed to future comments. Please direct any further questions to the human subjects office.”
Courtney paged back through the thread, her anger brewing. Why didn’t Allison tell her? She had set Courtney up for failure—convinced her to believe in a pipe dream. Allison was no better than Kyle. At least he had a semi-valid reason—he was turned on by it.
Courtney removed her soggy pull-up and sat her wet butt on the toilet. On the way home, the urge had struck at a red light, and she had glanced around frantically for some magical receptacle to appear. Looking now at her skirt, she noticed dark patches where her output had overwhelmed the pull-up’s small capacity. Had she been wearing panties, the car seat would have been soaked.
How could she have been so naïve? She was a marketing researcher, for crying out loud. She should recognize being taken for a ride.
Courtney sat for a few minutes, but no tinkle emerged. Fantastic—now she’d be returning here every twenty minutes until she managed to go. What a lovely way to spend an evening—unless… She wiped off and peered inside the cabinet: pull-ups on the right, diapers on the left. Krystal’s words rang in her head: What’s the point, really? Courtney reached left and fastened a diaper around her hips.
Just then, her phone received a call from an unlisted number. “Hello?” she asked.
“Courtney?” came Allison’s voice.
“You knew…”
“Courtney, I—”
“—that the experiment was a failure. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I told you the human subjects board pulled the plug, and I told you why.”
“You didn’t say the board was right.”
“Were they?”
“It sure seems so. I’ve seen the Reddit board. And you know—I can relate.”
“You’re right. I could have been more upfront about your chances for success, given prior participants’ experiences.”
“So why weren’t you?”
“To keep you on the path. You had a drive I’d never seen before, and I thought you might succeed where the others had failed. You were my star student…like I was Jane’s.”
Courtney covered her mouth in surprise. “You tried, yourself. Of course—why wouldn’t you?”
“For months and months, I did. I never regained bladder awareness or a functional hold time. Eventually, I gave up.”
“And now?”
“Now I wear diapers again, as you soon will.”
Courtney’s hand drifted to her ruffled bottom. “Wait, what do you mean?”
“You’re giving up too, aren’t you—after deciding it’s impossible?”
“Allison, do you have any idea what I’ve been through? I’ve had to pee in a urinal—not very successfully, I might add. I’ve peed in an alley next to a stray dog, down my skirt in a fancy restaurant, and finally on the tile floor of a movie theatre and nearly got arrested. And for what? A couple minutes of holding time gained over six months. What’s the practical benefit of that? None that I can see.”
“Those discriminatory sanitation laws should be abolished,” said Allison.
“Laws or no laws, I never want to be in that situation again.” Then Courtney asked, “So why did you call, anyhow?”
“To apologize…for any trouble I may have caused.”
“Well I’m sorry too, that you lost your job on account of me.”
“I knew the risks. The choice was mine.”
“So what’s next for you?” Courtney asked.
“They’ll hold a hearing to determine if my medical license is revoked.”
“I hope it goes well.”
“And for you? Will you give up or not?”
She thought for a moment and then replied, “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”
* * *
On Sunday morning, Courtney sat at her computer, Zooming with Jenny.
“Well, I admire your tenacity,” said her friend.
“More like stupidity. So many warning signs that panties are beyond me—I had to pee once in a McDonalds cup, for Christ’s sake—but I kept on wearing them anyway.”
“Yeah, I wondered about that—but hey, when you’re on a mission, let nothing stop you.”
“Except almost getting arrested. Since then, I pick up a pair and can’t bring myself to slide them on. And after seeing that Reddit board, I don’t know if I ever will again. Heck, I haven’t even worn a pull-up all weekend.”
Jenny nodded understandingly.
“Of course,” Courtney sighed, “you never believed in the prophecy anyhow.”
“Honey, I certainly wanted to. You think I enjoy walking around with a wet fanny half the time?”
“Well, looks like wet fannies are what we’re stuck with…” Just then her unit’s buzzer sounded. “Hey, I hear the doorbell. Talk later, okay?”
“Later, hon.”
It must be Kyle. He had some nerve coming here, after she ignored all his texts. She marched to the door, ready to shut it in his face—but as she peered through the peephole, she saw not him but a short, aging woman with thick glasses. Courtney opened the door a crack.
“Are you Courtney?”
She nodded.
“Jane Wolcott,” the lady said, extending her hand.
* * *
“How did you find me?” Courtney asked over tea.
Dr. Wolcott sipped from her cup. “Allison tends to ignore various protocols—for example, patient confidentiality. I imagine she gets that from me. In short, I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”
“Then you must know I’ve let you down. I couldn’t make it out of diapers.”
“It’s alright, Courtney. You’re not the first.”
“But I am the last—aren’t I?”
“With me in hiding, and Allison out of work? Perhaps you are, perhaps not.”
“Who else is there?”
“Do you think no other female on this planet has wondered whether she can learn to pee in the toilet?”
“Wondered, perhaps—maybe even tried it—but actually succeeded? Jane, I’m glad you proposed your theory; it had the potential to change many lives. But based on my own experience—and the results of your own study—I think you’re simply wrong. Our gender is incontinent, plain and simple.”
Jane seemed to smile, then gazed toward the ceiling. “To quote another famous tutor, ‘A prophecy that misread could have been.’”
“Ugh, my ex-boyfriend made me watch that movie.”
“Kyle, his name was?”
Courtney cringed. “It makes no difference now—it’s over between us.”
“Because he fetishized your incontinence?”
Allison told her that too? “To put it bluntly, yes. One time he even tricked me into wearing panties out clubbing, so that he could watch me have to pee in embarrassing places.”
Jane raised a bushy eyebrow. “I wish my husband relished my need for diapers like that. It might make the whole affair less aggravating.”
Really? She hadn’t thought of it that way before. Courtney quickly changed the subject. “What did you mean by ‘misread?’”
Jane set down her cup. “Blindfold a rat in its first weeks of life, and it never learns to see. Deprive a child of language in his first two years, and he never learns to speak. Keep a girl in diapers for too long, and she may never learn to pee in the toilet.”
“A self-fulfilling prophecy.”
“Indeed. The trouble is, no review board has approved a study with female toddlers—and believe me, I’ve tried. Too vulnerable a population, they claim. Whatever. And neither Allison nor I have a daughter of our own to try it with. What does seem clear is that our bladder function continues to degrade even after puberty. The longer we wear diapers, the harder reversing it becomes.”
“Which would explain why I made better progress than Allison.”
“And why I made worse.”
Of course Jane had tried too. It went without saying. “You really think that continence is achievable for our gender?”
“You’re asking the wrong person,” Jane replied. “The real question is, do you?” |
Chapter 12. A Prophecy Fulfilled?
One year later…
Courtney stood behind her podium in the auditorium full of teenage girls. She felt nervous in front of the crowd, but at least her nether regions were shielded from view, lest she fail to “make it through” her presentation. She waited for the room to quiet down and then began.
“Did you know that boys’ and girls’ urinary tracts are virtually identical at birth, save for the final portion?”
A hand shot up immediately. “So then, why are we naturally incontinent?”
“That’s just it,” Courtney replied. “I’m not sure we are.” She continued echoing Jane’s interview. “We possess all the necessary anatomy—the urethral sphincter, nerves around the bladder. We just need to learn to use it all. I see no reason why females cannot toilet-train like males can.”
“Ha, like you’ve ever tried it,” laughed a tall girl on the right.
“As a matter of fact, I have…” Courtney took a deep breath as she transitioned from Jane’s words to her own. “I used to be sitting where you all are, in a wet diaper begging to be changed.” A few girls snickered at that. “I assumed I’d be wearing them all my life, and for good reason. I could control my bladder no better than a newborn infant. I wet myself repeatedly each day, even my clothes if I wasn’t careful.”
The audience grew silent as Courtney told her story—and theirs. “At night I slept on plastic sheets, in case my overnight diaper leaked all over the bed. I was afraid to bare myself even for an instant, for there was no telling when my bladder might release.”
A young woman in the third row raised her hand. “It sounds bad when you put it like that, but…diapers also can be fun. They look cute—make you feel attractive.”
Another hand flew up. “I totally agree. And, like, we’re dependent on bras too—at least most of us are.” Giggles broke out. “But no one thinks anything bad about that.”
Courtney nodded—prepared for this comparison. “Think about it this way. How many of you would ditch your breasts—off the soccer field, that is?” More giggles, but no one raised their hand. “Now, how many of you would choose to be continent?” Half the hands in the room shot up.
“You could still wear cute undies and not wet them,” said a girl on the left.
“I’m sorry, it’s just so weird to think about. Peeing in a toilet? That would be like, having a penis or something.” Raucous laughter erupted.
“Quiet down, ladies,” said Courtney.
A new girl spoke. “It’s annoying having to worry about leaks and stuff. But wetting a diaper feels, I don’t know—girly—like wearing makeup or a dress, or like that other girl said, a bra.”
“Plus, we don’t have to drop what we’re doing to run to the bathroom. We can just—go.”
“I hear what you all are saying,” said a girl with red hair and freckles, “but if I could press a button and suddenly be continent, I would.”
“So would I.”
“What happened when you tried to toilet-train?” asked the tall girl.
“Before sharing that, let me tell you why I did…” Courtney described her struggles at the workplace, her embarrassing accidents, the nagging sense that her bladder was more capable than anyone assumed. She recounted the moment she first encountered Jane’s ideas, and the flood of questions it spawned. Then she told of her vain attempt to toilet-train without professional guidance. At this last part, hands shot up.
“I tried the toilet once, and it ended just as badly.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“That’s the insidious nature of it,” Courtney replied. “Just when you’re old enough to question the world around you, your incontinence has progressed to the point where rebelling against it does little good. A couple humiliating accidents convince you never to try again.”
“So it’s too late for us?” asked the freckled girl.
“No one knows the answer to that. But as most of you have probably realized, our bladder control worsens as we age. That’s why my friend Jenny runs a group for new and expectant moms.”
“Is it working for the toddler girls?”
“Too soon to tell.”
Courtney displayed a slide. “This is the female urinary tract…” She summarized Jane’s theory in language her teenage audience could understand, focusing on the “use it or lose it” hypothesis. Then she switched to a slide showing a diaper, a pull-up, and a panty. She recounted the first time she managed to pee in the toilet, her first day in pull-ups, her first time staying dry without protection.
“What’s it like to wear underpants?” the tall girl asked.
“Panties, you mean? Liberating, but also nerve-racking.”
“Did you have any embarrassing moments?”
The crowd was a mature one—all high-school juniors or older—so Courtney shared a few misadventures, including the fateful trip with Kyle to the restaurant. She omitted the night out clubbing, though; some stories were better left untold. She ended the presentation with her revelations about Wolcott’s failed experiment, for she felt it important that her audience hear both sides.
“And that’s how it stands,” Courtney concluded. “Where we adults have failed, we look to you, the younger generation. You never know what’s possible until you try.” The audience erupted into applause.
The girl with freckles then raised her hand again. “You can’t be that old… Did you make it out of diapers in the end?”
Behind the podium, Courtney’s hand graced the front of her skirt. Of course they’d want to know what she was wearing under there. She thought of all that had transpired in the past year…
~ ~
After Jane had left, Courtney sat pondering what the good doctor had said. The longer we wear diapers, the harder reversing it becomes. Maybe Courtney simply hadn’t tried for long enough? Perhaps if she recommitted herself—
—Nothing more than speculative fancy, Dr. Peters’ voice interjected.
Courtney touched her diaper, wet since some unspecified time. The weekend had felt so relaxing, never having to remember to try the toilet. Maybe she just needed a break for a few days, after obsessing over her bladder for so long. She deserved one by now, did she not?
Yet the days expanded to a week, then two weeks, then a month, and Courtney remained in diapers. At first she felt guilty wetting them without even trying to prevent it. When the urge came on, she would glance toward the nearest bathroom wondering if she could make it. But then she’d recall Krystal’s words:
Easier just to go randomly in your diaper, since you’re wearing one anyway.
Courtney’s eyes would drift closed as she let things flow. Relax, she would tell herself, you’re on vacation. Life had grown so stressful, with Kyle gone and Mr. Flanders bossing her around at work. Diapers were calming.
A logical way to accommodate your gender’s natural limitations, as her ex-boyfriend put it.
A reckoning arrived when she ran low on supplies. Six weeks earlier, she was barely making a dent in her stack—but now she was back up to five or more per day. Courtney gazed in the mirror dejectedly. The one she wore cut deep into the flesh that had been accumulating on her hips recently, even with the tapes at their widest setting. She should really get refitted—but why bother if tomorrow she was starting back at the gym? (Or maybe Monday after work.) She filled out an online order for her normal size.
Then she stared at the total—she had forgotten how expensive diapers were. What are you doing, Courtney? Cancel the order. Her finger hovered over her mouse…
You came to my theatre with no diaper on?
She had, and promptly peed all over the floor—on camera. After six months of trying, she could barely keep her clothes dry.
Clearly she needed to wear these; she had better stock up.
* * *
A couple months later, Courtney emerged from the shower and toweled off. While toilet-training, she had grown accustomed to going nude for short periods—from the bed to the toilet after sex (back when she was having sex), or like now, from the shower to the changing table. If she felt an urge, the toilet was well within reach.
Only today, it wasn’t. Her hot spray began without warning, splashing across her legs as she stumbled back towards the shower. Courtney gazed down at the trail of pee, her heart racing.
After cleaning up, she spread a plastic-lined towel across her bed and inserted the cold, white diode, unused for weeks. But as she lay with her legs parted, she could barely find which muscles to squeeze. Finally she produced a small contraction, but the diode only registered a 2. This vacation ends NOW, she murmured. She marched to the cabinet for a set of panties.
Those? asked the voice in her head. You’ll end up making puddles on the floor.
So Courtney reached for a pull-up instead, frowning at the way it squeezed her hips. Then she sat down to dinner, staring across at the empty chair that Kyle used to occupy. She reached down to unbutton her skirt, too tight to eat in otherwise. Her vacation from the gym needed to end now too.
After finishing her macaroni and cheese, she sank onto the couch for some reality television, her thighs spreading out lazily against the cushions. Soon her cares slipped away as the frivolous characters fought over each other’s boyfriends. And then she felt warmth flooding her pull-up.
Courtney slapped her forehead. How had she forgotten so easily? Because she’d been mindlessly wetting herself for weeks, that’s why.
She knew what must be done: reraise the bar. Voices be damned, she dug out her pink underwear from the bottom of the drawer and shimmied them up until they hugged her waist far tighter than they used to. Alright, now what? Part of her wanted to jumpstart her workout routine right then, but in panties that was out of the question. Her pad would be soaked in no time.
So instead she opened her laptop and stared at the task Mr. Flanders had assigned her: convincing women that skintight office skirts were the wave of the future. After weeks of meekly obeying his directives, she could bear it no longer. She began composing an email that explained how she truly felt.
Dear Mr. Flanders,
I think we need to be more realistic about how women view their own bodies. We’re self-conscious enough about our diapers, with the constant threat of leaks and all. Why compound that with clothes so tight that any onlooker could see that her diaper’s full from the shape of it under her skirt? Speaking from personal experience, I just don’t think these products will sell, no matter how sexy we make them seem.
Sincerely,
Courtney
She read the message over carefully…but couldn’t quite bring herself to send it. As she clicked to save a draft, she felt a sudden pressure between her legs. Courtney stood and aimed for the bathroom, embarking on that short journey she’d completed so many times before.
Only today it felt different, the control nurtured over all those months strangely absent. Pee escaped almost immediately, soaking her pad and then some. She barely managed to force it back. After a few hobbling steps, it burst forth again, gushing into her underwear, down her legs, and onto the living room floor. She stood there in shock, till her bare feet sat in a quarter inch of pee.
Underwear for girls? asked the waitress. Obviously that makes no sense.
But Jane said—
—Hogwash. No sensible urologist buys into any of it.
Courtney hung her wet skirt up to dry. Then she toweled off and cleaned up the puddle, thankful for living in an old building with hardwood floors. After showering, she pondered her options. At this point only one remained. Resigned, she fastened a diaper around her hips.
You will never be capable of making it to the toilet, her mother scolded. Don’t embarrass yourself by trying.
In the months since then, she never did again.
~ ~
From behind the podium, Courtney turned to the girl with freckles. “I wish my answer were different, but after half a year I still couldn’t trust myself in just underwear. So in my case—no, I never made it out of diapers. Perhaps ten years ago I could have. That’s why I’m telling you: Start today.”
“So that’s it? You’re just gonna give up?” asked the tall girl.
“How messed up is that? Some role model you are.”
Courtney half-expected this. “It’s a personal choice we all need to make. Don’t think I took the decision lightly.”
“I want to try it,” said the girl with freckles.
“Yeah, me too. How do I…go about it?”
“We have a program designed by Dr. Wolcott, herself. You start with pelvic floor exercises, then move to pull-ups, and finally to girl’s underwear. It’s all explained in this booklet.” Courtney held one up as she scanned the audience. “Well, if there are no more questions—”
“What about that boy Kyle you mentioned? He seemed sweet—are you still together?”
Courtney demurred. “Now, now. That’s a bit off-topic, isn’t it?”
“Please?” said another girl. “We really want to know.”
“That’s my main hang-up,” the tall girl admitted. “Would my boyfriend still be attracted to a girl that peed in the toilet?”
Good question, thought Courtney…
~ ~
When supplies ran low again, Courtney had invited Krystal out shopping. Staying in denial wasn’t helping matters—she needed clothes that actually fit.
“I can’t believe these concept drawings,” Krystal said, scanning through Courtney’s phone. “That skirt’s so tight her diaper’s plainly visible.”
Courtney stuck a fork in her food-court salad. “I don’t get it, either. Why would a woman want her ruffles on display at work?”
“Does look cute, though.”
“Krystal…”
“You’re right, you’re right—I would never wear that to the office…unless I was crushing on a coworker or something.”
Courtney rolled her eyes.
“Ready to hit the shops?” Krystal asked.
“Not really.”
“Come on—you’ll feel way better once you try a few things on.”
“Yeah, in what size?” All Courtney’s prior insecurities with her weight paled compared to this.
Krystal stood up and dragged her through the mall.
“We’re starting here?” Courtney stared at the sparkly sign: Victoria’s Secret – Bra and Diaper Shop.
“Gotta build your wardrobe from the inside out. It’s the only way.”
Soon they stood in a fitting room with their clothes in a pile.
The slender salesgirl asked, “Can you undo the tapes so I can get an accurate hip measurement?”
Courtney folded the top of her diaper down while holding the bottom part to her groin.
“Is that a 38 you have on?”
“Yeah.”
“You need a 40. It’ll provide better coverage and prevent more leaks.”
“Ohmygosh!” Courtney exclaimed.
“It’s just one size up.”
“Um—it’s not that, is it…” said Krystal.
“Don’t look. Oh, this is so embarrassing!”
The salesgirl’s eyes went wide. Both she and Krystal turned away, just as Courtney sprayed into her diaper—or at least, the part still in place. A little got on her hand.
“Don’t worry, hon. You’re not the first to have that happen. I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”
“Here’s a wipe,” Krystal offered.
Once Courtney was clean and dry, the salesgirl returned with a few samples. Courtney thought fondly back to her teenage years when she and her friends would use this trick to snag free diapers. Now, the cause was more sobering.
“That looks cute on you,” said Krystal while modeling a lavender bra.
Courtney gazed in the mirror at the flowery diaper enveloping her wide hips and bottom. “Uh huh, and I thought I looked plump in a 38.”
“Hey!” Krystal objected. “I wear 38s.”
“Yeah, but you have the chest to offset it. What’s that, a double-D cup?”
“Mm hmm.”
“I’m like two sizes smaller…even after gaining all this weight.”
Krystal touched Courtney’s shoulder, bare aside from her bra strap. “We’ll hit the gym tomorrow, okay? No more excuses.”
Courtney ended up investing in several packs of diapers and a few clothes in the larger size. A depressing afternoon—but motivation to turn things around, at least.
“Have you spoken to Kyle at all?” Krystal asked as they sat down to dinner.
“Not a word.”
“Aren’t you curious how he’s doing?”
“Hah!”
“Be honest.”
Courtney breathed in deep. “I’ve written so many texts. I just…can’t bring myself to send them.”
“What do they say?”
“Sometimes a causal, ‘Hope you’re doing well…’ Other times, ‘How about dinner and a movie?’” She sighed. “He’s probably with someone else by now, anyway.”
Krystal shrugged. “You never know… Honestly, I still don’t understand why you ended it.”
“He lied, Krystal—said he believed in me, when really he enjoyed watching me fail.”
“Is that so wrong of him?”
“What?” Of course it was.
“Courtney, sometimes I hate being a girl. I wish I were taller, stronger, less in need of a bra. But every guy I’ve dated seems to love those feminine traits—even my dependence on diapers. Think of it this way: If I tried running braless, guys would be all over that—in fact, several have requested I do it in front of them.”
“Did you?”
“Heck no. Hurts even thinking about it.”
Courtney smirked. “Kyle commented on that once. Said my jiggling was cute.”
“See? That’s what I mean. They’re attracted to our bodies’…feminine flaws, you might call them.”
“Well, I don’t mind if he ogles my chest, or finds it cute that I hand him jars to open. But this was on a whole other level… Krystal, he kept convincing me to wear panties, figuring I’d wet them and he’d get to watch.”
“When you put it that way, it does seem wrong.”
Courtney crossed her arms. “Yeah.”
“But…he never pressured you or anything. Even that time at the club, you could have borrowed a diaper from another gal. Seems like…he was having fun with an opportunity you placed in his lap. What guy wouldn’t kill for the chance to watch his girlfriend fail at toilet-training?”
* * *
A few weeks later, Courtney finally found the courage to ask Kyle out to dinner.
“How’s work going?” he asked when they were seated.
“Just awful. Mr. Flanders listens to me talk and says, ‘Very interesting point—I’ll think on that,’ but then disregards everything I said.”
Kyle nodded. “At least Mr. Mills valued your ideas, even if he did take credit for all of them.”
Courtney laughed. “That’s a fine way to put it.”
A long silence followed.
“Courtney, I’m so very sorry for how I acted. I was out of line.”
She shrugged. “Hopefully you’ve applied the lessons learned when dating other women.”
He shook his head slowly. “There’s been no one. All I can think of…is you.”
Courtney reached out and touched his hand. “I’m not saying you’re blameless, but…I think I’m ready to forgive.”
“You’re sure? You seemed pretty upset that day.”
“I believe a lot of that stemmed from my own frustration with myself. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t grasp this simple thing you mastered when you were three. All the resentment I felt for being so incapable, I transferred onto you.”
He nodded in understanding. “So, have you made any progress since—"
“—I’m back in diapers, Kyle.”
He squeezed her hand in his. “I’m so sorry.”
Courtney gazed at him affectionately. “Will you walk me home later?”
That night they stayed up talking for hours. As the morning sun began to rise, he finally reached for the hem of her shirt.
She clutched his hand. “Um…”
“It’s alright, we can take it slow for now.”
“No, it’s not that. I’ve, um…put on weight since you last saw me.”
“Oh, that’s what you’re worried about?”
“Mm hmm…like, ten pounds or so. I’ve been eating for comfort.”
“Aww, cuz you missed me?”
Courtney smiled.
“Well, I could sort of already tell. I still think you’re beautiful.” He lifted her shirt over her head, revealing her softened torso.
Immediately, Courtney felt self-conscious of how her bra pinched her sides. She hoped he would remove it soon. Instead, he kissed between her breasts, then inched lower across her tummy. His lips felt so delicious that the extra flesh there bothered her less than it probably should have.
He paused to remove his shirt, his body still as hard as ever. Then he found the zipper of her skirt and slid it down, exposing Courtney’s brand-new diaper. She had chosen it carefully—light pink lace to contrast with her dark grey bra. She knew just how it looked, stretching full and proud across her spacious hips—having studied it carefully in the mirror. “Too much for a first date?” she asked.
Kyle grinned. “Not at all.” He traced her diaper’s seams, tickled her supple thighs where the tight elastic ended. Then she felt his fingers at the tapes.
“Wait—can we leave it on for now?”
“Hmm?”
With her bra still fastened, she knew he wasn’t ready yet for sex. He must have other plans beforehand. “My diaper,” she said, “I’m scared to remove it.”
“Really? I thought you love it when I—”
“—I do. But…my control has gotten really bad again lately.” She felt something press against her thigh. Interesting…
“How bad are we talking?”
She thought of Jane’s words: I wish my husband relished my need for diapers. And she thought of Krystal’s: They’re attracted to our bodies’ feminine flaws. Maybe she’d have some fun with this? “If I felt anything start to happen,” she said, “I highly doubt I could make it to the toilet.”
“Even just across the hall?”
“I probably wouldn’t make it off the bed without splashing it.” She watched his hardness pulse and grow.
Kyle caressed her thigh. “What happened in the past eight months?”
“Well…earlier tonight, remember how I said that Jane’s experiment actually failed? After learning that, the path forward seemed so dim—I just gave up. Then I guess my bladder reverted back to what it knew. Kyle, I toilet-trained for six months…after 27 years in diapers.”
“And you’re okay with this?”
“No.” Courtney smoothed the elastic on hers. “Eight months ago, all I could think of was how poor my control still was after trying so long to improve it. Now, I’d pray to have even that small bit back. It may not seem so to you, but there’s a palpable difference between knowing I might make it to the toilet and knowing I don’t have a chance.”
“If you ever try toilet-training again, I promise I won’t interfere… Or have you decided it’s impossible?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what to believe anymore. But the thought of struggling though it again—fighting with my impetuous bladder, facing the world without the security of a diaper—is too much to stomach.” She gazed at him, before asking with a smirk, “Do you have any more questions?”
“Um…why are you smiling?”
“Because you’re cute when you’re excited.”
He seemed to blush.
“Silly boy, it’s right there.” She pointed between his legs. “You can’t deny this topic turns you on.”
“That’s how I got into trouble.”
“It’s okay—I’m past that now.” She touched where she had pointed. “So why does it?”
“Turn me on? I think just the idea that you could lose control at any moment, and have no ability to stop it.”
“And you like the thought of that?”
He nodded as she stroked him.
Then her hand fell to her lap and her eyes grew wide.
“Are you—”
“Yes…” she whispered, as she wet her pink lace diaper with her boyfriend staring. When it ended, she smiled sheepishly. “Now imagine that happening at a really important work meeting, and you can grasp some sense of what it’s like…and why I tried to—”
“—Courtney, I love you.” He kissed her in the early morning light.
“I love you too,” she said, her diaper warm and full between her thighs.
~ ~
The memory brought a smile to Courtney’s lips. She raised her hand from behind the podium to show off her diamond ring.
“He proposed?” the freckled girl asked.
“Just last month,” said Courtney, beaming. She turned to the tall girl as the crowd cheered. “To speak to your concern about your boyfriend: I can’t say what Kyle would have thought had I succeeded at toilet-training, but he sure loved helping me try.”
“Hand me a pamphlet,” the girl responded. “I’m gonna do this.”
“Yeah, me too!” said another.
“Y’all are nuts!” said a third.
“Ms. Clark?” said the girl with freckles. “I think you should keep on trying. Six months isn’t that long. It was years before I could perform a Triple Lutz.”
Courtney considered the idea, as she had so many times before…
~ ~
Jenny was the first person Courtney had told about Kyle’s proposal.
“I’m so excited for you!” Her friend clapped over FaceTime. “I knew he was a keeper.”
“I had to dump him first to realize it… So how are you feeling, Jen?”
“Fat as a cow. But at least now I have good reason.”
“How many months left—just two, right?”
“I can feel her kicking.”
“Her…”
“It’s a girl, Courtney! The results came back today.”
“Oh, I’m so excited for you too! It’s what you always wanted.”
“Well, the potty-training’s half as hard. Just teach her not to dirty her diaper, and then—well, you know the rest.”
And then she’ll keep wetting them her whole life. Another innocent girl starting down that road. “You could…try the other half and see what happens,” Courtney suggested.
“To be honest, I’ve considered it. Have you heard from Allison at all?
“Not since she lost her medical license. Busy rebuilding her life, I’m sure.”
“It seems almost cruel to set my baby daughter up for failure—like Allison did to you.”
“Or for a lifetime without leaks or rashes.”
Jenny smiled but said nothing.
“So will you keep working?” Courtney asked, changing the subject.
“We’ll see. I finally have some excuse to quit that hellhole.”
Courtney grinned while shaking her head. “I wish I had that option.”
“You would if you moved in with Kyle.”
“After he burned his entire savings on the ring…? Come on, Jen, you know I’m more of a ‘suffer the slings and arrows’ type of girl.”
“Are you?” Jenny asked.
* * *
The next morning, Courtney fought with her tight skirt. Since getting back with Kyle, she had managed to shed some of the pounds she’d put on, but not all of them. Her clothes from before were only just beginning to fit.
Mr. Flanders greeted her as always, with a subtle scan of her body. “Morning, Courtney. That marketing plan finally ready?”
“Could we talk through it later?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I want to see it—on my desk.”
“Of course, sir.”
“By lunchtime.”
So Courtney sat at her computer, staring at the blank page that the marketing plan was supposed to fill. She sipped nervously from her coffee mug, trying for the umpteenth time even to begin the impossible task Flanders had assigned her.
The matter finally came to a head at lunch.
“Alright, let’s see it,” said Flanders.
“It’s, um, not ready yet.”
“Why not?” he demanded.
Because the clothes he hoped to sell had less appeal than…women’s underwear, even. Not a soul on earth would buy them, no matter how Courtney spun it. “Can I have one more day?” she pleaded.
Flanders opened his phone. “Mr. Mills? Could you come down to the conference room, please?”
Soon her boss arrived with Krystal in tow. Courtney stood to greet them while Flanders remained seated.
“I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding,” Mr. Mills began. “Courtney is impeccable with deadlines—isn’t that right, Krystal?”
The receptionist nodded rapidly. “Coffee, anyone?” she asked.
“I shouldn’t,” said Courtney.
“I should think not,” said Flanders, glancing at Courtney’s tight skirt in a creepy way.
Did he really just say that?
“So what’s the deal with this report?” Mr. Mills asked.
Courtney took a deep breath and pointed at the concept drawings sprawled across the table. “Sir, I can’t write it…because these products aren’t marketable. Look, that blouse barely covers the poor woman’s bra, and the skirt’s so thin and stretchy that her diaper shows right through. I wouldn’t wear that—would you, Krystal?”
Her eyes darted from person to person. “Um…well, no…but—”
Mr. Mills gestured at Flanders. “I’ve been saying all along: Bring those necklines higher.”
In a stroke of daring, Courtney blurted out, “No you haven’t. I’m the one who proposed that.”
The room was silent.
Finally Flanders spoke. “Look down, Courtney…” He sat there with his phone out, as if her objection mattered so little that he couldn’t bother to listen.
“What?”
“Apparently you would wear it—your tight skirt hides things just as poorly. It’s quite obvious what you have on underneath.”
Courtney’ jaw dropped open, her mind racing to respond but hitting only dead-ends. What could she say, that it fit looser before her ass took on this extra weight? That a thinner pull-up—or (god forbid) a panty—would show through less, if only girls were allowed to toilet-train?
Yet before she could assemble even a jumbled retort, her bladder took matters into its own hands. As she stood there in front of all of them, pee sprayed hard and fast into her diaper, inflating it to the point where her ruffles must have shown even worse than before. Then her heart sank even lower as she felt some trickle down the back of her thigh, wetting her skirt in Flanders’ direct field of view.
Courtney heard a click. “Did you just snap a photo?” she asked.
“Um…n-n-no.”
“But I heard it snap,” said Krystal.
Flanders mumbled something about needing to keep his phone silenced.
Courtney tried to process this sudden turn of events. Had anyone else realized what the photo was of? Krystal must have read her face, for her friend rushed over and peered at the back of her skirt. “Here, hon,” Krystal said, offering a paper napkin.
“Uh, I think you better delete that photo,” said Mr. Mills.
“That’s it?” Courtney asked, recovering from her shock. “That’s all you’ll say about it?”
“We’ll have HR look into it… In the meantime, Jim, probably worth taking our suggestions about thicker, looser skirts, given what just—well, you know.”
“They’re my suggestions, not ours.” Then Courtney’s pent-up rage finally burst free. “You know what? Too hell with this. I quit!”
She pressed the paper napkin to her backside and stormed out the door.
* * *
That night, Courtney sat pondering what to do with herself now, having just cut ties with the only marketing firm in town. In frustration, she swept her arm across her desk, sending her scattered work papers fluttering to the floor. There beneath the stack, a familiar title caught her eye:
“Wolcott, J. (2020). A self-fulfilling prophecy? An environmental theory of female urinary incontinence.”
Courtney dusted off the cover. Then she turned the page and read from start to finish, for the first time in over a year. She shut her eyes. Was Jane for real? Or just some crazy lunatic? Maybe Kyle, Krystal, and everyone else was dead wrong, and another path did exist—if not for herself, then at least for someone. Life must have more to offer women than lewd photos taken of their wet fannies.
Truly there was only one way to know. Toilet-training for girls: Why not market that?
She clutched her phone. “Jenny? I have a business proposition for you…”
~ ~
Courtney stared out at her eager audience. Since that day at the office, the hush money from HR had made moving in with Kyle feel less intrusive, and her numerous talks with Jane had prepared her well for today’s presentation, the first of a dozen scheduled. So far, the rightwing press had left her alone; perhaps her young, attractive visage was too sympathetic a target. Overall, she felt more confident in herself than ever in her life.
All except that one area, hidden behind the podium. You should keep on trying, the freckled girl had said. As Courtney considered how to respond, her bladder caught her unawares. Warm pee filled her diaper, while she fought to contain her look of surprise. At times like this, continence seemed utterly unattainable—her bladder dysfunction past the point of no return.
Maybe the prophecy was only a myth, and all these young, impressionable girls would suffer the same crushing defeat that she had. Yet still they looked to her for inspiration. Should she try again?
Courtney adjusted her sagging diaper. “Maybe I will, ladies. We’ll see.”
~ Finis ~ |
So, some of you that read Journey to Arnwick might recall that I mentioned something of a spiritual successor. At long last, here it is: The Warband! Following the efforts of a legendary knight as she battles an evil horde of corrupted warriors. And virtually everyone along the way craps their pants. And, at the bottom of this post will be some art of our heroine, Arryl, done by the one and only Livinginfinite (link to his Pixiv).
Hope you enjoy! This one's been a long time coming.
The Warband
Chapter 1: Into the Fray
Selena had witnessed not one, but two legends on the same day.
She’d heard the rumors of Khan Kora, and her fell army. The legion of savage warriors rampaging across the land, bringing city after city to their knees. The disparate tales could never agree on what became of the Khan’s victims; some say that she has them all massacred, leaving no survivors; others warn that you’ll be taken as a slave. The stories of an army of monster-men, one that entire nations crumbled before… It was something Selena did not believe. Just some tall tale that became far more famous than it deserved to be.
Likewise, she did not put much stock into the legends of the knightess Arryl. A warrior endowed with divine might and purpose, driving back the dark hordes of the Khan’s army. Fearless, peerless, and undefeated in combat, Arryl was reputed as being a holy savior of the realm. Naturally, Selena figured the comforting myth of Arryl was simply in response to the frightening myth of Kora.
Selena would have staked her home on these legends being nothing more than stories… until the day the Khan’s armies arrived, and tore her home apart. And on that fateful day, when a nightmare of mythic status waged war upon her people, who should appear to challenge them but another myth…
-----------------------------------
Screaming…
That was all Selena could hear. The other sounds- the fires, the clashing of metal, the chaos of warfare- all of it seemed so quiet compared to the screaming just outside of her house. The invaders had descended on them so quickly, in under an hour they’d breached the city walls. Their fury tore through the city impossibly- inhumanly- swiftly. Selena was no fighter, and neither was her daughter, Colline. Panicked and afraid, all she could think to do was grab a knife from her kitchen, then hide with Colline in the back of the house.
Her daughter shivered beside her, and Selena pulled her in closer. Driven by the fear of what may come, she found herself staring at her daughter's face. The apple truly did not fall far from the tree; Colline looked just like her: dark skin, a freckled face, pale green eyes, long, black hair. Indeed, the largest visual distinction between them was their style of dress. Selena wore a white and green dress, whereas Colline always preferred to dress in a tunic and pants, as she had then. Her daughter had always been tomboyish. All throughout her youth, she’d picked fights with the boys and, as far as Selena knew, won more than lost. Even as a young adult, violence and physical labor never frightened her.
But now? Now, tears streamed down her face, and she couldn’t stop shaking. The two of them knelt together, on their knees. She swore that she would protect her daughter, but Selena wasn’t completely certain that her own legs would function.
The screaming outside came to an end, but the silence was all the more dreadful. Wood splintered beyond the room they took refuge in- the door had been smashed to pieces. Colline sobbed loudly, holding onto her mother as tightly as possible. Selena heard the pitter-patter of water falling to the floor, and wondered if her bladder had begun emptying itself. She looked down, but her skirt was dry. Beside her, however, the crotch of Colline’s sky-blue pants darkened as they were saturated with urine. Her daughter- a grown woman of twenty years- had wet herself in fear. A puddle grew underneath her as the urine spilled from the rear of her trousers to the floor. Her heart ached for her poor daughter; no one should have to endure that kind of terror or shame.
“Shh, shh,” She tried to soothe her daughter’s fears and unquiet crying, lest they be heard, “Don’t be afraid Colline, I won’t let them hurt you.”
Colline made a choked sound, whatever it was she wanted to say stolen by a tearful hiccup. She took a deep breath, and held ever more tightly to her mother. She knew the poor thing was using every last ounce of her willpower to control her crying.
Heavy footsteps strode through their home. She could hear furniture being tossed aside. A door was kicked in. They were looking for people. People to kill or enslave. A voice, thick with murderous intent and distorted by vile magic, shouted suddenly, “Only cowards hide!!” as another door was destroyed. There were only so many rooms. He would find them very soon.
“Colline, sweetie, hide under the bed.”
“But, Mom-” Her voice was strained.
“Hide, Colline!” Selena snapped. Reluctantly, her daughter nodded, and crawled under the bed.
“Last chance!” The voice was eager, excited for the slaughter, “Come on out and I’ll make it quick!” Selena clutched the knife in a trembling hand. The head of an axe broke through the door, and she could not suppress the scream that left her throat. “Found you!” The man laughed, “Shoulda listened! Now I’m gonna do this nice and slow.”
“Stay back!” Selena called out to him, pointing the knife at the door. Tears blurred her vision, and she felt wetness race down her thighs. Her long bloomers were drenched as her bladder voided in fear. The front of her dress grew wet and warm as a stain materialized, and numerous streams fell from her bloomers onto the ground, creating another puddle next to Colline’s.
With another slash of his axe, the door gave way, revealing the murderer: A tall, muscular man with pale red skin. He wore black trousers and boots, no shirt. His pupils were yellow, and the whites of his eyes had turned black. His hair was a deep blue. Across his body, thin, wiry things that looked like veins covered him. A monster-man, just as the stories spoke of.
He laughed cruelly, “That’s it, piss yourself! Be afraid!” He hefted his large, serrated axe, “Come on, beg for me! Beg for your worthless life! If you do, I just might let you come with me, heheheh… ” His eyes settled on the kitchen knife, “Oh ho, that’s your weapon, huh?” He spread his arms wide, “Come on, then! I’ll give you one shot!” Selena stood motionless, paralyzed with fear, “Come on!” He screamed.
Compelled to take the chance he’d arrogantly given her, she surged forward, and drove the knife into the man’s chest. For only a second, as she thought she’d slain the intruder, she smiled. When the man did not topple over, though, the fear returned. Flashing her a fanged grin, the man gripped the knife, and slid it out of his body, dropping it to the ground. Some brackish blood oozed from the wound, but he seemed unfazed by it.
Selena stepped back in disbelief. “My turn,” He intoned in a ruthless voice. Hefting his axe, her stepped towards her.
In a flash of motion, Colline emerged from under the bed, and sprinted for the door.
“Colline!” Selena screamed.
“Huh?!” The man exclaimed in surprise, but his look of shock quickly transitioned to one of joy.
Colline fled through their ruined home, making for the city streets, “Help! Help!” she called.
“Hey, come back!” The killer shouted, giving chase, “I have some ideas for some family bonding!”
Summoning all of her courage, Selena willed her legs to carry her, and she stumbled after them. Outside the house, her daughter screamed, and she picked up her pace. The killer had tackled her to the ground, and subdued her. “Get off of her!” Selena prepared to pounce on the man, ready to punch, kick, bite, anything to try and protect her daughter.
But she didn’t get the chance. Like a steel-gray bolt of lightning, someone charged and struck him with a warhammer. Bones cracked and splintered, and he flew backwards, impacting the wall of the house. He groaned in pain, and fell to the ground. Even through a blow like that, he lived, and tried to pick himself back up. The knight brought their mighty hammer up, and then down. With a grisly sound, the killer’s head was dashed across the dirt.
Selena hurried to her daughter, noting with sympathy that there was a brown bulge in the seat of her pants, and pulled her into a loving embrace. Colline absentmindedly returned the hug, but was more focused on the resplendent figure before them. Once she’d helped her daughter to her feet, Selena turned to their savior, “Oh God, bless you. Thank you, thank you so much.”
The knight, or knightess, rather, was a large and powerful figure. She was tall, clad in resplendent armor. It seemed shaped specifically to her body, and alluded to a strong and capable physique. She wore no helmet, revealing a youthful and stunningly beautiful face. Her skin was pale, and her hair was snow white, hanging in frizzy tangles down just past her ears. In one hand she held a colossal hammer, inscribed with glowing golden runes.
“Are there any other survivors here?” The lady knight asked, voice filled with purpose.
“Uh, um, I couldn’t say. My daughter and I have been hiding,”
“I understand. Go to my knights, they’ll see you to safety,” She pointed with her unarmed hand down the street. For the first time, Selena noticed several other knights advancing down the road. All around them lay fallen invaders.
“Th-thank you,” Colline meekly whispered.
Taking her daughter’s hand, Selena hurried to the knights, to the promise of safety. One of them stopped their advance and gestured for them to hurry up. “This way,” the knight called out, “We’ve secured the north district, get over there!”
-----------------------------------
Arryl sighed with relief. She’d found survivors, and gotten them to safety. Such a thing was a rare luxury when the Khan struck so suddenly, as she had that day. Seeing both the survivors had wet themselves, she silently regarded her own “underwear.” After soiling her armor more times than she could count, Arryl had eventually just turned to wearing more absorbent clothes underneath her armor. While the heavy metal certainly did a stellar job of keeping her accidents a secret, she’d grown quite tired of having to scrub the insides of her legplates.
Inspecting herself as best she could through the armor, she ascertained that she was slightly wet. The chaos of the attack had more than once been enough to startle a leak or two out of her, but she’d remained mostly dry this day. A small blessing, but a welcome one.
Her knights caught up to her, one of them asking, “Your orders, ma’am?”
“Continue down the street, search for survivors and kill any of the horde you can see. The enemy should withdraw soon, and I must check with Omila.”
“Understood!” The knights nodded, and continued their march deeper into the city.
Arryl turned back towards streets they’d already secured. The Khan’s horde rarely lingered in an area; they struck suddenly, and without warning, claimed their prizes, then vanished. They would soon depart from this place, leaving only burned homes and shattered lives in their wake. Omila, Arryl’s master ranger, had proven instrumental in monitoring the horde’s movements and predicting where they would strike next. She knew she was on the right track when she came upon arrow-riddled horde bodies. Following the ranger’s trail led her to the roof of a large building.
Having learned her lesson the hard way more than once before, Arryl was very careful to announce, “Omila, coming up behind you!” before she had stepped fully out onto the roof. She’d been on the receiving end of enough of her arrows to last a lifetime.
“Huh?” The energetic archer whirled about, still caught off guard by Arryl’s warning. For a creature with such good hearing, Omila really did have trouble listening. She was a vulpin, a race of fox-like humans. Unlike some other, more animalistic races, the vulpin’s physical differences were limited to clawed fingers, sharp fangs, long tails, and large fox ears. Omila herself was a short, fit woman. Her hair was a vibrant reddish-orange, increasing her resemblance to a fox. In order to free up her movement, the only armor she wore was a leather tunic. Beyond that was a green cape whose hood was almost never used, since her large ears did not fit inside of it, and some tan shorts.
“Where are they going?”
The vulpin turned and pointed to the west, “They mostly struck merchants and warehouses. Stocking up for a journey to somewhere else.”
“Casualties?” Arryl’s least favorite part of any report.
“Thankfully, not terrible. Some knights are gone, but most of my archers are unharmed. This was likely just a small detachment sent to raid this place.”
“Have you seen or heard from Ravein?” The elven assassin had a habit of going her own way during battles.
“Not since the fighting started. She’s probably off doing what she does best.”
“I see. How are you holding up?”
“Not hurt,” Omila casually answered, looking out over the city and not at Arryl.
“Not what I meant.”
“You know how I’m holding up, Miss Arryl,” Omila’s expression soured.
The knight didn’t respond, only giving the vulpin a sympathetic look. Years ago, she’d only narrowly saved Omila from a raid that took everything from the young archer. The carnage and destruction the Khan brought with her weighed especially hard on Omila, and Arryl knew that the ranger would spend the next day or two sulking over it.
“Looks like the horde is primarily leaving through that exit,” The archer gestured off into the distance. Even with her regular human eyes, Arryl could see the large mass of troops filing out of the city. An excellent opportunity to bleed them, and cut down many of their warriors without much of a fight.
Lifting her warhammer, Arryl made for the streets once more. She was a galvanizing presence for her soldiers, and a force of nature on the battlefield. When armies needed to be felled, Arryl was the one needed, and she would answer the call.
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The sound made by Vengeance, Arryl’s hammer, was not natural. It tore through flesh and bone just as easily as the air, and it howled in a harsh, ethereal screech as it did so. Like her armor, and, indeed, her own body, the weapon had been infused with holy power; transforming it into a divine instrument no foe could withstand.
Even the Khan’s horde understood the danger. Most of the time, they knew to give Arryl a wide berth, and to only engage her when absolutely necessary. Most of the time.
But then there were others, like the raider who sprinted for her, his own warhammer dragging in the dirt behind him. The weapon was drenched in blood, he’d killed civilians or knights with it. She glared at him, waiting for her moment to strike. When at last he was close enough, he channeled all his strength into lifting his colossal weapon…
Only for Arryl to swing Vengeance impossibly fast, virtually erasing the man’s upper body from existence. A few raiders behind him witnessed the display of her strength, and stopped in their tracks. For one of them, it cost them their life as Lyza, one of Arryl’s top lieutenants, seized the opportunity and impaled him on her sword. For most of the horde, defeat was something they were unfamiliar with. When their unholy strength faltered, the only thing left in them to take its place was terror.
The remaining raiders stood paralyzed momentarily, unsure of whether to flee or press the attack. Arryl and Lyza answered for them by advancing forward. Behind the two women, more of the knights arrived to reinforce their push. One of the raiders- a woman wearing tattered and singed clothes- began wetting herself rather forcefully. Between her legs fell a waterfall of urine that splashed noisily to the ground. She glanced down in disbelief, then turned and fled for her life. Her comrade in front of her was not so fortunate; when he turned to see the other’s cowardice, he was swiftly struck down by Lyza.
“Knights!” Arryl called, “Behind those buildings! Flank them, and cut off their escape!” Each of the armored soldiers shouted their assent, and followed her orders. “Lyza,” She turned to her old friend, “There could be a commander here. I want you by my side to make sure we kill them.”
“Of course, my lady,” the swordswoman answered with a little bow. Lyza was Arryl’s oldest friend and ally, having been with her for years before the Khan’s appearance. She was a bit shorter than Arryl, and had much more tan skin. Her hair was black, and cut very short. She wore thin, light armor over her torso, forearms, and the lower halves of her legs. All areas not covered by white plate were shrouded by loose black cloth. In one hand she clutched a longsword, the other was always left empty.
Together, the two set off to do battle with the bulk of the horde. Arryl noticed with annoyance that the space between her legs had grown wetter. She still could not say for certain when she had leaked, only that she had.
-----------------
Omila bounded from rooftop to rooftop, stopping only occasionally to snipe a raider with deadly accuracy. All around her, her archers were doing the same, creating a lethal and precise rain of arrows. While Arryl ensured the horde was repelled from the city, she had been taking care of any who thought to linger.
“Someone! Help!” a shrill scream caught her attention. Omila looked to its source, seeing a woman fleeing for her life from a stray raider. She loosed an arrow immediately, and it pierced the man’s thigh. He grumbled, more in annoyance than pain, and slowed his pace. With the grace afforded to her by her peerless agility, Omila leapt from the rooftop, landing between the raider and the woman. He swung a sword, aiming for her neck. She ducked her head and backstepped, loosing an arrow as she did. This one found a home in his chest, but he still did not die. He dove for the young vulpin, unleashing a wild flurry of strikes. Once she’d been backed up against a wall, and the killer thought his victory was certain, she jumped high, clear over his desperate attack. On the way down, she took one final shot, planting the arrow in his skull. At last, he was no more.
“Thank you, miss-” The survivor began to say with a shaking voice, but Omila cut her off.
“Don’t thank! Just go!” She pointed towards the center of the city, to safety. The woman stammered a bit in surprise, but quickly took Omila’s advice. As she did so, the vulpin could plainly see the woman’s heavily saturated and browned pants. Worse yet, she could smell it with her enhanced senses. As much as she liked to save people and help them to safety, it was still one of her least favorite assignments, as her keen eyes and nose did not let her miss a single pair of wet or soiled trousers. And those were never in short supply.
She climbed back up to the rooftop, but felt her knees go weak when she saw what had entered the city as she was distracted. A wyvern- a large draconic monster- ridden by a mighty warrior. It soared across the sky, not terribly far from her position. It roared, and with its rider’s command, spewed fire across nearly a dozen buildings.
Omila’s sensitive ears picked up the distinct sound of splashing water, and once the numbness of fear had faded, she noticed that her legs were wet. Glancing down, her light brown shorts bore a steadily growing wetness across their front and between her thighs. The streams raced down her thin legs, filling her shoes and puddling on the ground. The warm wetness began to caress her butt, and she hurriedly reached back to ensure that she had not filled her panties as well. Mercifully, it was only urine.
Once she’d finished checking the damage, she looked back to the wyvern rider. She gasped sharply as she noticed that they were headed straight for Arryl. Omila broke into a sprint, ignoring her drenched pants and legs. She had to be there to help the paladin.
----------------
Vengeance screamed as it severed one half of a raider from the other. Beside Arryl, Lyza and several knights battled the horde. They were winning, but exhaustion was taking hold. The horde had slowed its withdrawal, perhaps sensing the growing fatigue of the city’s defenders. Not wanting to give them such an impression, Arryl charged forward with a powerful battlecry.
Smashing into a group of raiders and knocking them to the ground, Arryl brought Vengeance down upon them, crushing the life out of them. Another sweep of the weapon destroyed another horde soldier. Taking her by surprise, a raider swung a greatsword at her, and Arryl blocked the strike with her hammer mere instants before it could cleave her skull open.
Between her legs her piss spilled freely out of her, soaking into the garment. The hot liquid caressed her groin, then made its way to her rear. She shoved herself and her weapon forward, throwing the attacker back. Her thighs pressed together with the movement, and she groaned as she felt her urine escape the absorbent underwear and flow down her legs in little trickles.
As with the hammer-wielding raider earlier, this one thought he could match Arryl’s speed, and it would be his last mistake. Vengeance obliterated his body before his sword was even mid-swing. Holding the momentum of that kill, she continued forward, bashing apart any raider fool enough to come too close to her. Lyza and the knights began to surround and envelop the enemies. Arrows flew silently through the air, pelting the horde. Victory was all but certain, until they heard a nightmarish roar above them.
A black wyvern, big enough to eat a man whole, flew above them. As it roared, it bathed the path behind them in flame, cutting off any escape Arryl might have had. She heard the squelching coming from her own rear, and she felt the result immediately. Seeing the beast, and feeling the heat of the fire, her bowels surrendered their contents immediately, spilling out into her underwear. She could feel that the release was not entirely firm, and it stretched and filled the garment as much as her armor would allow. The mess spread and grew, until it felt as though a grapefruit sat between her skin and her underwear.
Beside her, two knights were clearly frightened just as much. From the sounds of their voices, Arryl was sure both of them were women. On her left, the knight very audibly soiled herself. To the right, the knight was pissing hard on herself. Drops of urine spilled from every crack and gap in her legplates. Even Lyza stiffened and blushed slightly. Arryl recognized the grimace her friend made whenever she soiled herself, and it was the expression she wore then.
The paladin uttered a quick prayer under her breath, preparing to raise a magical shield to defend them from the wyvern’s next breath of fire… but it never came. Instead, the beast landed with earthshaking force, and the rider climbed down. Even with a momentary glance, it was clear that the rider was the architect of this attack. A tall, fierce woman, with the light red skin of the Khan’s horde. Wild, tangled pink hair flowed down to the middle of her back. Like many others, she wore no true armor, only black garments that covered her chest and legs. In each hand she carried a serrated longsword.
“The mighty Arryl… ” The wyvern rider spoke in a voice just as sultry as it was murderous, “I cannot wait to feed your remains to my pet,” she rubbed the wyvern’s nose, a gesture it apparently appreciated, given that it leaned into it like a cat.
“You won’t be the first of your horde to die so pointlessly,” Arryl strode forward, ahead of her comrades, “You won’t be the last.”
“Oh ho!” The rider’s face was a cruel sneer, “Come on, then. Find out why they call me Tezha the Torturer!”
Arrogance. Arrogance to wear no armor. Arrogance to challenge Arryl to single combat when her wyvern could’ve burned Arryl’s forces alive. The fell energy that surged through the horde’s veins filled them with incomparable pride.
Arryl knew how to keep a level head; how to stay in her right mind. She knew to remain humble. The dozens of times she’d completely soiled her panties in fear certainly helped to curb any ego issues she faced. Even as she walked towards Tezha, her underwear soaked to the point of spilling out onto her legs, and filled to the brim with her own mess, she managed to stay calm in spite of the fear within her.
She did not doubt for a second that Tezha would command her wyvern to strike the moment she began to lose the fight, so Arryl tried to position herself carefully, to make it difficult for the wyvern to move without injuring its master as well.
With a bloodcurdling scream, Tezha surged forward, the blade in her right hand coming down in an overhead strike. Raising her left arm, Arryl blocked the attack with her gauntlet. To her shock, she did not just shrug off the hit as she had expected- the sword bit into her armor deeply, and she was pushed back by the force of it. What she did expect, however, was the next attack as Tezha swung her off-hand weapon horizontally. Arryl parried the slash with her hammer. Both womens’ hands were occupied, so Arryl raised her leg and delivered a powerful kick to Tezha’s gut.
She was propelled backwards, landing on the snout of her wyvern. With a surprisingly gentle motion, the dragon nudged her back into the fight. The beast glared at Arryl, evidently not too happy at her treatment of its master. The reptilian eyes bored into her, and she felt the garment between her legs grow warm once again, more urine frightened out of her.
Tezha recuperated immediately, and lunged forward. She brought down both of her swords, both blades seeking the exposed flesh of Arryl’s neck. The paladin was quick on her feet, hopping back to dodge the strike. She retaliated with a mighty swing of her hammer, only for Tezha to easily dodge the attack; a feat most of the Khan’s pets couldn’t manage. Arryl’s surprise must’ve shown on her face, as Tezha sneered.
Out of the corner of her eye, Arryl noticed a subtle and quiet movement, as if a shadow had jumped independent of its owner. For anyone unfamiliar with Ravein, such a motion would’ve been imperceptible and would have seemed unimportant anyway. For Arryl, it meant that the fight had already ended, and that she had won. The elven assassin only made the most deliberate, well-planned, and far-reaching attacks.
She just had to keep the general and her wyvern distracted, and she was confident Ravein would take care of the rest. To that end, Arryl charged forward, preparing to ram Tezha. With a sadistic cackle, the fell warrior swung her blades. This time, it was Tezha’s turn to be surprised. Blocking one blade with her hammer, Arryl’s other arm rocketed upwards, grabbing the sword by the blade. The general was stunned; anyone else who had attempted such a thing had been cleaved apart when their armor failed to stop her.
Arryl yanked the weapon from her hand, then barreled into her with her shoulder, throwing her to the ground. For all her pride, if Tezha had any doubts remaining that Arryl was the mightier warrior, they’d been soundly crushed. Having put many others through this same realization, Arryl knew that this was the point of the fight where her enemy would fight desperately, dirty, and dishonorably. At any second, Tezha would give the command for her wyvern to feast, or breathe fire.
“All that bluster,” The paladin began, towering over Tezha, “Only to get tossed around like a ragdoll. Surrender, and this place doesn’t have to be your grave.”
“Ha!” Tezha barked out a laugh, though there was no mirth in her hard expression, “Playing with you has been entertaining, but now I think it’s time to cut you into ribbons!” Her sentence ended with a ferocious shriek as she rose to her feet and thrust her remaining sword upwards, looking to impale Arryl through the jaw. Her dodge was slow, and she had not anticipated the general’s speed- the same mistake made by countless enemies against herself. The serrated blade sliced the edge of her chin and nose.
Keeping her momentum, Tezha delivered strike after strike, each one a lethal attack if not dodged. Behind some debris from a collapsed house, another shadow moved, this one much more easily spotted- a charitable gesture from Ravein, who made it easier for Arryl to notice despite the hail of deadly blows. She had a feeling she knew what the elf wanted to do.
From somewhere inexplicable, a single rock fell to the ground- hardly anomalous in a battlefield, which is what made it Ravein’s favored sign. She was ready. For a crucial moment, the paladin lowered her defenses, and met Tezha’s offence with her own. Hammer and sword collided, and the victor was obvious. The foul blade snapped and shattered like glass, showering them both with metal splinters. The general was in utter disbelief, and did not even make any attempt to dodge when Arryl drove Vengeance into her stomach.
For the third time in a single fight, the horde commander was thrown backwards, only this time with no more weapons. That is, except for the one massive, wyvern-shaped one. She laughed a low, menacing laugh. She stood, hands clutching her bruised midsection. “Anarri!” She shouted, causing the monster to perk up, “Kill her! Eat her!!” The wyvern roared and reared back, colossal wings flapping.
But then a cry of fear stole the dragon’s attention. Its beloved master was in the grip of an elven assassin, whose poison-tipped daggers were pressed against the warlord’s throat. Arryl had always been grateful that Ravein was not their enemy; if she’d had to choose which was more frightening, Khan Kora’s entire horde or this single elf, she would have to vote for Ravein. The violent and psychopathic rage of the horde was not nearly as terror-inducing as the assassin’s unbreakable, silent composure. The still, unconcerned look on her face. The fact that she’d been fighting and killing horde warriors all day, and not a single hair was out of place, not a single drop of blood stained her leather armor.
Even though she could not see her attacker, the general must’ve felt Ravein’s quiet, murderous intent just through her touch. Her lips quivered, and her legs shook a little before her knees buckled together. Her bladder emptied, the hot urine streaming down her legs. The stains were not easy to see on her black pants, but they were there. A strong stream fell from her crotch and splattered on the ground, the droplets flying from the impact and wetting both women’s shoes. Ravein would be furious. She’d gone all day without getting dirty only for the last enemy to piss on her. “Make your pet behave itself,” The assassin’s cold voice was only just above a whisper, and she emphasized her point by pressing her dagger’s tip against Tezha’s throat.
The general swallowed hard, “Anarri… Down.” The wyvern was an intelligent creature, and seemed to understand what was happening. It obeyed its master, lowering to the ground and looking as non-threatening as a hulking killing machine could possibly look.
“Smart. Now get rid of it.”
Tezha was seriously weighing her options, and didn’t speak immediately. Only when Ravein’s dagger drew ever nearer to breaking skin did she say, “Anarri… Go home. I’ll be back soon.” She fixed her eyes on Arryl, “I assume your offer to surrender is still on the table?”
The paladin nodded. The wyvern looked sick with worry, and bared its fangs. “No, Anarri! Go home.” With a sad, grumbling growl, it obeyed. Sparing one last glance at its master, it took off into the air.
Everyone held their breath, waiting for the creature to return and rain fire on them. When nothing happened, and the sky was clear, the knights all began moving once again. Ravein shoved Tezha forward, onto her stomach. As Arryl stepped closer to secure their capture of the enemy general, she noticed that Tezha had done more than just wet herself. A brown stain had spread across her backside, with a telling bulge in the center. The smell was strong, and she did not blame the elf when she hastily took many steps away.
“We don’t capture many horde soldiers,” Arryl said as she crouched down in front of her, “I’m very excited to see what secrets you can tell us.”
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And that's it for chapter 1, but here's that art:
Edited August 31, 2021 by DsGSilver
(see edit history) |
Preface: More than a year later I'm pulling out this story I suggested on my blog. For those who are big into Jojo, this is supposed to take place after the battle with Notorious B.I.G., and before they finish with Metallica. I may do a part 2. Let me know what you think with a comment or something, or just an upvote.
Word Count: ~6k
Time to Read: 20 minutes or less
Fighting Gold
Guido Mista was pacing around the center carpet of the secret turtle room, ranting to himself as Giorno and Trish looked on. The eccentric man was amazing with a pistol, but when it came to other topics he could be difficult.
“I’m not going there,” Mista said, “If it was on any other street, maybe, sure as a favor, but on that street, never!”
Trish watched him as she sipped a bottle of mineral water through a straw. It seemed no matter how insane their travels became, there were some personality quirks that would never change.
Giorno didn’t seem to be paying much attention, and was reading a newspaper they had received from the other members of Bucciarti’s team before they left to scout ahead. Occasionally he looked up, and then turned his turquoise eyes back down.
Trish stopped sucking on her mineral water, and pursed her painted lips together, “Why can’t you go, exactly?”
“Forgetting that it is a bad idea, and that Bucciarti told us to stay hidden while they check out the island,” Mista stopped pacing, and his face twisted into an annoyed expression.
Trish rolled her hands in the air, hoping something would get him to finish his thought.
“That market is on 4th street!” Mista shouted, “I can’t shop there. You’ll just have to make do with that water, we can worry about the rest later.”
“Worry about it later?” Trish said while looking up from her bottle, “I’ve been worrying about it since we left venice.”
Giorno dropped his newspaper and looked at the other two, “What is this about?”
Mista stiffened up, “What? This? She wanted me to do some shopping for her, before we go and try to find out the Boss’s identity.”
The golden-haired boy looked over at Trish, who turned her eyes away and went back to sipping at her mineral water.
“This isn’t the time for shopping,” Giorno said, “we should be hiding out. If there are anymore assassins, they might catch us out in the open. Bucciarti went over this.”
Mista chuckled, scratching at his neck before turning back to Trish, “Exactly Giorno, that’s what I told her. She wouldn’t believe me. Then she tried to have me go to that market place, I would have died for sure.”
Giorno went to pull his newspaper up, and then immediately dropped it again, “What were you going to buy?”
Trish tilted her head, “Not that it is any of your business, but some of us don’t like being stuck in the same underpants for so long. I haven’t had a chance to change since we left.”
Giorno furrowed his brow, “That’s silly, this is a life or death situation. We just almost died in that plane and you’re worried about underpants?”
“All the more reason to be worried!” Trish said as she sat up in her seat, “What if I had died in the same panties I’d been wearing for a week? That’s disgusting!”
Mista’s stance shifted, and he scratched at his waistband as he thought about it.
Giorno shook his head and stood up from his seat, “Mista, we should check the area again. Make sure it is still clear of any actual danger.”
The boys went to the center of the room, and then their bodies were stretched and enlarged until Trish could see them at their full size through the window at the top of the secret room.
It seemed that they still didn’t understand her situation. She knew it would be difficult being the only girl in a group of guys, but she never expected they would be fine living in filth. Before all of this started she only drank parisian water and wore designer brands. Now she would kill for a shower, at least, and a change. It was unhealthy to be in such inhumane conditions for so long.
She understood that the others, especially Bucciarti, were risking their lives. They were doing it not only for their own safety, but for hers as well. Still, there were limits to what she could endure. Especially when she didn’t know how much longer they were going to be on the run.
Trish got up from her seat and looked out the glass of the turtle’s hidden room. There was no sign of Giorno or Mista anymore. If she was fast, she could run and grab a fresh change from that market, and be back before anyone noticed. They would all come back safe with the name of her father, and no one would even know she had left.
She exited the turtle, her mineral water in hand. They hid it in a small tourist booth, next to a bench. It was in an oddly open location, but she didn’t wait to question it. She tossed a brown cloak over her shoulders and started on her way into the little town on the beach of Sardinia.
Most of the people in the little town seemed to be tourists from the mainland. Couples walking around with bags from this shop or another. Trish tried to seem inconspicuous, but between the drab cloak over her hair, and her fashionable skirt, someone was going to notice her for one or the other. Mista and Giorno were right, it was a bad idea to come. But she was already on 4th street, and at that point it was smarter to finish what she started and make it back just like she planned.
She spotted a boutique, a small shop with dark blue exterior paint. There was a mannequin in the window in a cute orange skirt with a matching top. She could already guess which label it belonged to as she spotted it. That store would have what she needed. Trish ducked inside, dropping the cloak and shaking her hair back to proper form.
“Uhm,” an older woman in a wide-shouldered dress suit cleared her throat to get Trish’s attention from across the store. “I’m glad you came in but uhm, no food or drink.”
The woman pointed to a sign there by the entrance. Trish rolled her eyes at the woman. She didn’t know who she was talking to, so she could be forgiven for bothering Trish with small inconveniences. Then again, it would be a waste to throw the rest of the bottle out.
Trish put a finger up to stop the other woman, then began to take heavier sips through her straw. As the woman watched, Trish finished the second half of the bottle, then handed it over.
“You can throw that out,” Trish said as she went to check out the stock of the boutique.
The woman almost dropped the bottle as it was handed to her, and gave a little huff of frustration before she went back behind the front counter to toss it.
Trish’s main regret was that she didn’t have much money left on her. Some of the labels there were top of the line, and she could see herself in all of them. New tops, beautiful skirts, luxurious dresses. Some of the colors were a little out of season, but she couldn’t blame a little store in a tourist trap for that.
“Miss?” The woman said as she walked to the opposite side of a display from Trish, “is there any particular item you are shopping for?”
Trish looked away from the woman, moving to the next item. She grumbled under her breath, “Anything that doesn’t reek of seawater will do.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing,” Trish said, standing up and heading to a stack of blouses.
The movement actually made her realize that she needed the restroom. She drank a whole mineral water earlier, then moved on to her second before Mista started his rant. After the situation with that enemy stand on the plane, she just wanted something to keep her calm. It was supposed to be comforting, now she was paying for it. At least she wasn’t in that turtle though, last time when Bucciarti tried to make her use… she shook the thought.
“Do you have a bathroom?” Trish asked over her shoulder.
“Excuse me?” The woman said again, it was starting to annoy Trish.
“You know, to use the restroom.”
The woman hesitated, and looked around, “Oh, uh, employees only I’m afraid.”
Trish frowned, and clicked her tongue. Usually that would be fine, but she could already feel all that water building up. It was a bit of a walk back to the waterfront where that strange turtle was. She would have to cut her trip short, just grab the essentials.
“Panties,” Trish said.
“Huh?”
“Take me to your undergarment section.” Trish pointed at the woman, and the older woman nodded and pointed the way.
There wasn’t much there, actually. But there didn’t need to be. Center to it all were an absolutely cute pair. Trish picked them up and looked them over. Black, lace trim, delicate but comfortable material. They would hide well. Besides, anything was better than the week worn pair she was wearing. Even better, they were the perfect size despite being the last pair of that brand.
“If I can put these on in the dressing room, I’ll take them.”
The woman gave a nervous nod, and they proceeded to the counter. Trish pulled a clammy wad of bills out of her top, counted enough off, and handed them over to the woman at the register. The woman took the money with a smile, and then pointed to a small curtained off room at the back as she shoved the cash in the register.
Trish took her newly purchased underpants and headed to put them on. Just like she thought, fast and easy. She would get out, find some bathroom along the walk home, and be done with this in time to get back before anyone knew she was gone.
The panties slipped on perfectly. She knew her eyes hadn’t failed her, they were a great fit. The waist was a little tight against her body, sending a shiver through her midsection as her mind wandered to her bladder, but hopefully that would fade away when she relieved herself.
She stepped out of the dressing room and looked for the older woman. No one else was in the boutique. Her product was paid for, and she didn’t really want to talk to the woman anymore anyway, so she shrugged and took her leave.
Back on the street, she wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and looked up and down the street. A block further away, she could see a diner. It had little outdoor tables with umbrellas above to block out the sun. If she was in a different situation, she would have stopped to enjoy a bite to eat. But right now she just wanted their toilet.
As Trish walked past a couple sitting at a table out front of the diner, she noticed their eyes on her. She didn’t have time for paranoia, not now.
She walked through the door, and a man with a wide stomach and apron was standing in her way on the opposite side. Trish looked around him to see if she could spot a bathroom, and she saw what she wanted in the far corner, a sign on the wall pointing to the ‘il bagno’.
“What do you want?” The man asked in a gruff and low voice. He had a clear pitcher in his hands with water to refill for the customers outside.
“Just your restroom.”
The man didn’t move, except for his eyes to peer over to his left, the direction of the bathroom.
“That’s for customers.” His voice was direct, stern. This was a conversation he must have had in the past, telling off random people using his diner as nothing more than a piss pot.
Trish wasn’t just anyone. She wasn’t a vagrant.
“I just need to go quickly, I’ll buy something after.” Trish said as she started to step past him.
The man’s arm moved out to block her path. “No, you can buy something now, or you can leave.”
She felt a twinge of pain from her lower abdomen. Maybe it was the pressure, or walking around, but the mineral water was moving faster than she ever could have predicted. She squeezed her lower muscles, and shook her head.
“I… yes, give me a moment.” She dug into her top and fished around for her money. Then she remembered that she just finished shopping at the boutique. All she had left was a small amount of change. She fished it out and looked at it, and the man looked down at the wadded up cash she was clutching.
“Can I get, some water?” Trish asked with a reluctant look up.
He moved the pitcher further from her, the water swishing around as he did. Her eye caught the swirling liquid, and she felt a ping in her bladder.
“I’m not letting you ruin my restroom for a cup of water,” He said, “buy lunch, or go.”
Trish stood up, and stamped her foot. “What is this? You won’t even take a customer? Is this how you treat people at your business!?”
She raised her voice loud enough that she hoped people around would notice her. When she peered one way, she saw a man walking down the street look away, on her other side the couple eating were watching their plate. There was a man around the corner of the building, peering at her after she started making a scene, but based on his eyes she was sure he just wanted to leer at her.
The owner of the diner grumbled, “Get out of here, you beggar!” He used his free hand to grab her wrist, her little bit of change falling to the ground, and pulled her hand up over her head.
She shrieked in alarm, her heart beating faster, her legs kicking out at him as she tried to pull away. Her cloak fell off, and the man immediately let her go.
When she looked up at him again, he seemed embarrassed. She was panting as her heart rate went back down. She looked around her, and now she had everyone’s attention. Did her appearance in her cloak make them think she was some nobody? She should have known.
Trish stood up tall, and immediately regretted it. Pain went through her pelvis as her bladder swished and let out an alarm. She grunted and bent at the waist.
“Sorry, I thought…” The man stammered, “I mean, you looked like.”
“Can I get a water?” Trish said as she forced herself to stand again. She wasn’t going to humiliate herself in front of this nobody. She just needed the bathroom, she was fine.
He reached inside and grabbed a glass, then used the pitcher to fill it. The sound of the waterfall was like knives in her stomach, and she tried to minimize how much her legs were trembling at the sound. He filled the glass high, and then handed it over.
Trish thought about bending over to pay, and the pain it would bring. Instead she grabbed the glass and looked the man in the eyes. “You can get the money yourself.”
He looked down and bent over to pick up the change.
Trish started to drink. The water was delicious, refreshing, but every gulp of the drink made her want to drop the glass on the spot and speed-walk toward the bathroom. She told herself this still wasn’t an emergency, but the line between emergency and painful annoyance was fading by the second. She finished the glass, and let out a satisfying gasp. The man was finished grabbing the money, so Trish gave him his glass back and made a dismissive motion to get him to move out of the way.
He stepped back, and she stepped into the diner. Crossing the diner was no problem, and thankfully no one was in the restroom. She made it, she was safe. She locked the door behind her, and prepared for her sweet relief.
The bathroom was generously described as a hole in the floor surrounded by ceramic. There was a chain overhead to flush the whole apparatus with water once she was finished. It was someone’s definition of clean, no signs of someone else’s business, but the walls and tiles were disgusting. Trish didn’t have the time or energy to worry about that. Now that she was safe, her bladder was already making preparations for what came next.
She pulled up her long skirt, and tried to get her fingers into the waistband of her new black panties. Her fingers slipped on the lacy material. She huffed, and went again, but she couldn’t quite get hold of them. It was nerves, she was sure of it. So she took a calm breath, and tried to pull her panties down again.
Her fingers gripped the material just fine, but she couldn’t get anything between her body and the thin material. When she tried to pull the underwear away from herself, it was like yanking at her own skin.
“Yowch!” She hissed as the soft skin just above her pubic area was pinched with the effort of trying to yank at the panties.
Trish’s bladder rebelled. She didn’t know if it was because of her jostling her panties around, or just frustration that she was standing right in front of relief and couldn’t get it, but her lower body trembled and her legs tensed as she paused and concentrated. She wasn’t going to have an accident, not when she was this close. It wasn’t that bad yet, just a little painful.
“Get off of me, you overpriced little…” Trish growled to herself as she tried other means. She tried to pull from below at her thigh, the panties stayed flush to her skin. She even tried the most brash tactic of pulling the gusset aside, only to find herself tugging on her most sensitive skin.
“Why, why, why!” She whispered as her heart rate began to quicken. This wasn’t just tight clothing, she wasn’t too nervous or sweaty to get a good grip. There was something more going on here.
There was a knock at the door to the bathroom, and a spark went up Trish’s spine as she stood up straight.
“Excuse me?” Said a woman’s voice outside, “is someone in there?”
Trish turned on the door. Now just the action of moving her legs was enough to cause concern. This was getting worse, she didn’t have time to deal with some idiot.
“It is locked, isn’t it?” Trish replied.
“Are you going to be long?” The woman asked, her voice growing quiet.
“That’s none of your business!” Trish snapped, and she could hear the woman on the other side take a step back.
“Rude!”
“Hmph!” Trish snorted at the woman, but then her bladder twinged with pressure and she bent over at the waist.
One knee went over the other as she tried to contain herself. She grumbled to herself as the pressure grew and grew in a wave. As the wave hit its peak, she forced a hand between her legs and held herself. The action made her blush, both from frustration and humiliation.
“Okay, you’re coming off right now!” Trish shouted.
“No, I don’t think I will.” Whispered a man’s voice. It was a slimy voice, like every man that has cat-called girls at night was fused into one being.
Trish looked around, unsure where the voice was coming from. No one was in the room with her, which left very few options as to what was going on.
“Down here, sweetie.”
Trish looked down between her locked knees at the soft black material that had become such a hassle. She could just barely sense it, like pulses of energy coming off of the panties.
An enemy stand! She thought as she gasped. She was only away from the others for a few minutes, and she was already under attack! How did they know where she was going to go, did they know she needed to buy new panties? Was this just bad luck?
“See, you won’t be taking these off until I say so, understand beautiful? Which means for now, you can just stand there and squirm.”
She only learned about her own stand recently, and she didn’t understand everything about how they worked. But she knew that if there was someone with a stand, then they probably worked for Passione, and therefore wanted to harm her.
“What do you want me to do? If you want to kill me, could you at least let me… have some relief first?” Trish asked, trying to avoid the mounting problem.
“Why would I want to kill you?” The man said, “We are going to become good friends, and now that you’re wearing Iron Maiden you won’t find any relief until I’ve had mine, kekeke!”
Trish’s skin crawled as the man started to laugh. But she noted a few bits of information. It was definitely a stand, and with quite a name. The user was a creep of the worst kind. Did he want to see her suffer? What a pervert! The last part was still an unanswered question, but she didn’t think he knew who she was. If that was true, maybe he wasn’t part of Passione.
Unfortunately, that meant that if she revealed her stand, she would give herself away. They were a rare power. Even if this guy was an idiot, he would know that if she had a stand she was either with Passione or with Bucciarti’s team.
She needed to find a way to stop the stand, or the user. That much she knew.
“I hope you don’t think you’re just going to get to stand around in there. Come back onto the street, missy.”
Trish could feel another wave of pressure in her bladder, and she squeezed her thighs as it hit her. She groaned, and looked down to the floor as she put both hands between her legs.
“Why are you doing this? Please just let me go in peace.” She looked around, “I’ll pay you!”
“Stop wasting time, you won’t be able to hold all of that beautiful… uhmhm, you won’t be able to hold out forever. If you want me to let you go, then do everything I say. Otherwise, the urges will just get worse, understand?”
As if on cue, her bladder spasmed. For the first time, she was actually afraid she would leak. Her muscles were growing tired, and with one pulse right after another, she was unprepared. She yelped and went back to bending forward.
“I understand, I understand. I’m coming out, you creep.” She said.
She opened the door to the restroom and headed back out into the diner. The stress between her legs was a constant ache at this point. She could barely walk normally, every other step requiring her to change her gait.
Out in the diner was a portly woman who was yelling at the owner. When Trish came out the owner looked in her direction. He looked her up and down, and immediately Trish was sure that he could tell she was still walking strange. Did he suspect the truth, that she forced her way into his diner just to never use his bathroom?
The angry client demanded his attention again, and Trish was thankful. She walked past him without a word and headed back onto the street.
As soon as she stepped out she looked up and down the street. There weren’t too many people there. A few men walking down the street together, an old woman tending to a flower shop, a man leaning against a building across the way with his head down, a gruff looking man on a bike. No one looked like a stand user, no one looked like they were expecting her. Any of them could be the user, any of them were torturing her.
“Okay,” she said out loud, looking around, “what now?”
There was a pause, and for a moment Trish was worried that she was just being strung along. Her bladder trembled, and she squeezed her thighs while she tried not to look like a woman on the verge of a mortifying accident.
She could feel her muscles growing tired. Her legs felt too sweaty, and beads were collecting on her brow and neck. One hand was gripped into a tight fist, and the other was on the waist of her skirt. Every instinct told her that she would have to pull her panties down at any moment, but logic told her that she couldn’t even if she wanted to.
“I wanted to get a good look at you,” Said that man in his sleazy voice, “you look like a real stuck up bitch, but a hot one. You’ll do just fine.”
He was talking, but she still couldn’t see anyone watching her. She was frantically thinking, where is he?
“Well?” She said, stepping away from the door and taking small steps down the street, “what next?”
“You’ll keep walking until I say to stop.” He said, “Keep your hands away from that cunt of yours, and keep your head up. Don’t try anything.”
What did he think she was going to try? Trish pulled her hands up, crossing her arms across her chest just under her black top. She did just as she was told. She walked along the side of the street, her eyes scanning back and forth for any sign of the enemy.
She only recently came to know about her stand, Spice Girl. The power of it was incredible, but she was also unsure of its limitations. Making anything soft and elastic couldn’t help her take out another stand, which could defend against those attacks. Unless, the stand couldn’t defend itself for some reason.
The pain was growing too intense, and Trish felt another wave coming on. For a moment she was afraid it was the end. She took a stuttering step forward, her hand first going to her groin before she remembered the stand user’s command. So instead her hand shot out, and ran into a man walking past her.
“Are you okay?” The young man said as he put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Her knees were wobbling, and she could feel her pelvic muscles pulsing as if they would fail at any moment. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away. She refused to give this creep the pleasure.
“Get rid of him!” The stand user shouted in a disembodied voice, “Or you lose, all over the street, kekeke.”
She felt a strange sensation below her waist, then realized what it was. Iron Maiden was tightening around her. It was slight and almost impossible to notice. With all the pressure there, she noticed every centimeter of room lost!
“Get away from me!” Trish shouted as she slapped the man away. She forced herself to stand, despite the drops of sweat on her face and the wobble in her legs.
The man took a step to the side, his eyes wide with surprise. “Fine, crazy bitch!”
He walked away, and Trish continued her walk with hastily constructed confidence.
“Good, good,” The stand user said, “You look like you’re reaching your limit. Should I push you over the edge? Sounds like fun, and Iron Maiden does love a good… hmph, nevermind.”
Was he planning to just make her walk until she could no longer hold it all in? He really was a monster, lower than any animal or man! If only Bucciarti was here. He would have some way to solve all of this. But while alone, she was going to have to come up with a solution herself.
And one presented itself.
Trish was at her limit, she knew that much. But she couldn’t see the stand user, which meant that he was probably at some remote location observing her. He wanted her on the street so that wherever he was, he could watch her and see what she did. She couldn’t talk to people or touch anyone because he wouldn’t know everything that was happening. While he could talk to her over a distance, it was possible his Iron Maiden didn’t know more than the fact that she was wearing it. That meant she had a chance, if she could get out of sight even temporarily.
An alley between two shops was up ahead, just a few steps away. Trish kept walking as normally as she could manage while she was mere seconds away from unleashing a waterfall down her legs for all of Sardinia to see.
She kept walking, keeping an eye out for any sign of her assailant. There was still no one, her plan could work if she could just execute it fast enough.
“I don’t understand what you want,” Trish said in a low voice, “I just wanted to buy some new panties, I don’t deserve any of-”
She cut herself short. She was right beside the alley. It had a large barrel in it, and some boxes. Perfect cover for what she needed to do. She ran, not an action she took lightly. Her bladder immediately rebelled at the action, but if this went right she would be free in mere moments!
“Spice Girl!” She said as she vanished into the alley.
“What are you doing you dumb bimbo!” He shouted.
Trish had a plan, and it wasn’t dumb. A thought occurred to her as she tried to put a plan together. Iron Maiden wasn’t just a stand. Stands were less than physical, though they were capable of influencing the physical world. To people without stands, they were invisible. But Iron Maiden was real, a physical object. The stand seemed to either be in the shape of, or inhabiting, a pair of black panties. Which gave Trish the idea that Spice Girl could affect it. If that was true, then Spice Girl could make the panties soft enough for her to slip out of. Then she could find relief behind the boxes in the alleyway!
Spice Girl appeared as she called, and Trish pulled her skirt aside. The pink-gold stand pulled its hand back and went to strike at the waistband of Iron Maiden. It threw out a series of attacks, but just before the first strike landed Trish could feel a difference from the panties.
Her stand hit her waist and Trish let out a desperate squeal.
Reverberations went through her lower body, as if her insides were temporarily becoming gelatin. She stopped in place, her legs no longer willing to move. The built up urine inside of her sloshed around as she felt all of her muscles weaken at once.
“You absolute moron!” The man shouted, “Did you think that would work?”
Trish felt a hot jet leave her, and her knees clasped together.
“No, no, no,” she whispered to herself. Spice Girl looked on with an expression between determination and confusion. She didn’t know why her plan didn’t work.
“Iron Maiden can turn any attack on itself back onto the wearer!”
Another hiss of urine escaped before she cut it off. It was a tiny leak, but her face flushed with the shame of what happened. She could barely move. It was everything she could do not to release the torrent trapped inside her.
“But you’re a stand user huh? You know what that means?” The enemy stand user said, “That means you have to do what I say, or I’m going to have the worst kind of fun with you.”
Trish shoved her hands between her legs. There was still a chance she could stop this. It was just a tiny leak. Maybe that was all she needed to hold out, that little release of pressure.
“Walk back to the street!”
Trish shook her head, “No! I won’t!”
“Do it now! Or this gets much worse for you, kekeke.”
She needed a new plan, or she was never going to get out of Iron Maiden. For the moment, she had to play along. He knew she was a stand user now. If he was Passione, then it was only a matter of time until he realized she was with Bucciarti. So she took a small step back toward the street. One at a time, she made her way back to the streets of people ignorant to the battle happening both within Trish and around her.
Her hope that the pressure would recede was foolish. Even as she put one foot in front of the other, she could feel a new wave mounting. Her legs weren’t moist yet, so the gusset of the cursed black panties had to be absorbing everything so far. But if she leaked again, it would slip down those long legs of hers. She knew it, and there would be no hiding it.
She got to the street. Her head was down as she concentrated on the impossible task of keeping so much water away from the small hole it wanted to escape from.
“What now?” She growled, “You creep!”
“Say cheese,” said a man on the street with a raspy voice.
Trish looked up in surprise. There was a man there wearing a hooded brown jacket with edges shaved into jagged cuffs with yellow-gold trim. His pants were an ugly off-green. His hair was disheveled and green, but swept off to one side.
But what shocked Trish more was the camera in his hand. It looked professional, with a long zoom lens, pointed right at her.
He was going to film her humiliation! That couldn’t happen!
Trish went to turn, but she was too far along. The mere act of moving, of trying to turn, send another pulsing pain through her bladder and made it convulse.
“Ah!” Trish gasped as she felt a long spray escape her. It was audible to her, and she wondered if the couple walking behind her could hear it as well. “No.”
The man with the camera grinned and snapped a shot.
“No!” Trish screamed. But her muscles were weak, her legs trembled. Spice Girl manifested and charged forward to strike, then froze in mid-air as a loud hissing emanated from Trish.
She blinked away tears, and her knees shifted away from each other by instinct alone. Another hiss began, and this one didn’t stop. She was pissing herself, like a child. There was no denying it, and no stopping it. The relief made her lip tremble, and her body refused to move until the deed was complete. She could feel the panties clinging to her as her weakened hole released more and more into her underwear.
People were stopping on the street now, looking at her as she stood in an awkward half-squat with her leg exposed by the long slit of her skirt.
She could hear a pattering sound on the brick street below her. It didn’t sound like enough for how much she was releasing, the endless sizzling torrent of her voiding bladder, but it was enough to make sure everyone knew that Trish Una wasn’t potty trained.
The camera snapped again, and again, and the tears Trish fought back earlier fell freely now.
“Does it feel good?” The man said through his stand, the voice in her head, “Don’t worry, you can piss for days into Iron Maiden. It will drink up almost all of it, almost.”
The trickling down her legs grew louder as Trish closed her eyes in a last attempt to escape the people gossiping and pointing at her. The relief was immense, her weakened muscles between her shapely legs feeling more sensitive than ever. Her knee twitched as she felt the last bits of pee flowing out of her and onto the street.
“Delicious, exquisite, beautiful!”
Trish fell to her knees and sobbed there in the street.
“I’m going to have a lot more fun with you.” The stand user said, “I am Amaro Grappa, and you are mine now, little stand user.”
Trish growled and looked up. Spice Girl manifested again and charged, but the man with the camera was gone. There was just a street of people gawking at her and the puddle she was kneeling in.
She got to her feet and ran back into the alley on weak knees. She had to find this Amaro Grappa and get herself free, and before he divulged anything to Passione! |
hey all! this is my first omorashi story! i've had this kink and been viewing the site for a long time, and finally had an idea i liked enough to try my hand. i've written a lot already and the story i have in mind neatly divides in two, so expect the second part as a reply to this thread sometime in the future.
some content warnings: this story contains poop desperation so if that's too gross for you then you probably shouldn't read it! also, i am headcanoning a beloved mario character as trans so if that's a turnoff for you then uhh eat girldick lmao
Daisy's Double Desperation (Part 1)
Princess Daisy lived for this: the wind in her hair, gripping the handlebars of her motorcycle, cutting a fast path through the chaos. Racing in the Mushroom Kingdom was wild, but she was up to the challenge! There just wasn't anything else quite like speeding past all the competition.
She loved the joy of the sport itself, but to be honest, she loved showing off too. She often did flashy tricks on her bike as she raced, gathering gasps and applause from the crowd. What's more, she wore a skintight bodysuit, with a bold white and orange color scheme. She insisted it was just more practical on a motorcycle, but she went commando underneath, and the suit closely outlined her boobs, butt, and... her dick. Daisy was trans, and her girldick was noticeable in the form of a cute bulge at the front of her suit. She was far from modest. She loved showing off her body and feeling sexy.
During this particular race, though, she was a lot less exuberant and self-assured. There were no flashy tricks this time. Though she would never admit it, she'd forgotten to use the bathroom before the race. And it was quickly getting very, very bad. She cursed regretfully and squeezed her legs against the sides of her bike, desperately trying to contain the ocean in her bladder. It was all she could do to avoid spilling her pee into the inside of her suit, which would no doubt be very visible to onlookers. She couldn't let that happen.
But the situation was even worse than that. She groaned as her stomach gurgled, her bowels pushing to evacuate out the other end. She clenched her round butt cheeks, but couldn't stop a tiny fart from escaping. How many more of those did she have before something solid came out? Holding from both ends while also having to do the race was overwhelming. She tried to hide her need, but her face was a little flushed from the effort.
The race was almost over. She repeated in her mind: I can make it. I can make it. Ahead of her: fellow princesses Peach and Rosalina, respectively clad in pink and blue. Their cute butts hovered over their seats; Daisy had convinced them to wear bodysuits too. (For practical reasons!)
But now wasn't the time to think about that! They were about to win! Daisy quickly used a mushroom to turbocharge her engine (again, Mushroom Kingdom racing is weird). Her bike shot forward, and she held on for dear life, clenching harder down below. Despite her best efforts, a tiny bit of pee dribbled out of the end of her cock and into the crotch of her suit. She whipped across the finish line... just behind Peach, who was just behind Rosalina. "Nooo!" she shouted.
Oh well. Third place wasn't bad, and she was honestly less concerned with the outcome of the race than she was with keeping her suit dry and clean. She forced herself to smile and wave at the crowd, hoping to keep up appearances. She drove off the course with the others, excited to finally be able to use a toilet. Almost there!
But then she was hit with a horrible realization. Third place was good enough to participate in the awards ceremony, standing on the podium. To keep things swift and exciting for the audience, competitors were expected to be ready for the ceremony as quickly as possible. Dressing rooms were provided to freshen up a little... but no toilets. Daisy was sent into a panic. Oh no no no!
I'm... just gonna have to hold it! It seemed impossible, but there just didn't appear to be any option.
Idly she realized the top three was all princesses. She was good friends with Peach and Rosalina, and now she'd have to be humiliated in front of them, holding herself in their shared dressing room. This was shaping up to be an awful day.
---
Off the bike, back indoors, in a hallway leading to the dressing room. Peach and Rosalina were farther ahead, just entering the room. Daisy was farther behind. Finally, she didn't have any eyes on her. She started holding her crotch openly, hand clamped hard over her penis. She immediately got some small relief just from being able to contain herself properly. Bent over, her shapely ass (covered in tight fabric) sticking out, she slowly began walking to the dressing room. She needed to pee so badly. How was she supposed to get through this?
All her focus was on holding it now, but it was so difficult. Partway to the door, she gasped as a spurt of pee shot out of her! She felt the warmth spread around her dick. She immediately regained control, but felt awful. She was already losing it! She hazarded inspecting the damage. A small dark spot over her bulge, small enough that people probably wouldn't notice when she was on the podium. Just then, a loud, wet fart trumpeted rudely from her butt, reminding her of her other need. Now she had one hand clamped over her dick and another over her butt, and in this fashion, she made it to the dressing room without further incident.
The dressing room was dominated by a wall of four lit mirrors, with a long desk beneath and chairs in front. It was traditional for competitors to wear their racing outfits on the podium, so the other two princesses weren't changing. Instead, they were casually putting on makeup.
Peach turned to look as Daisy entered. She brightly spoke, "Oh, hello Daisy! Are... are you quite alright?" Her always-pleasant tone shifted to concern as she saw Daisy, doubled over and obviously in pain.
"I- er- aagh!" Daisy tried to reply but couldn't form any coherent words. She was on the brink of completely losing control. Desperately, she scanned the room for something, anything that could save her. She spotted a small trash can in the corner.
Would she...?
She had to.
She rushed past the other two girls to the trash can, not listening to what Peach was saying. Just a few seconds longer! She was there, in front of the can. Frantically, she pulled down the zipper on the back of her suit. Thank god it didn't get stuck. She started quickly taking off the suit, exposing her perky breasts. Rosalina was looking now too, and Peach was shocked into silence.
A second later, her suit had fallen down around her ankles. She was faced away from the others. Her generous ass was fully visible, as was (just barely) her penis, dangling below. Someone standing in front of her would see she was uncut, and had a small vertical strip of pubic hair. She squatted over the can (her genitals meant she could stand to pee, but she preferred not to). At long last, she let go.
It started as a trickle, but only a second or two later her piss was shooting out in a powerful jet, hissing loudly as it hit the inside of the can. She quietly moaned as her glistening golden stream finally made its way out of her, overcome with relief. The feeling bordered on orgasmic. The squatting position she was in caused her buttocks to be ever so slightly separated, her anus just barely visible. As she peed, a loooong fart escaped her, made silent by how her cheeks were spread. It felt so good, it made her relax even more.
Finally her stream died back down to a trickle, then to sporadic drips, then stopped. She shook her penis a little to get the last drops off, and remembered her friends were behind her, watching the whole thing.
Her face flushed, she sloowly turned around, still naked, dreading to see their reactions. Peach was blushing furiously, her hands covering her face. Rosalina was just smirking, leaning on her chair.
Rosa chuckled, but somehow in a way that seemed friendly and lighthearted, not mocking. "You really needed to go, hmm?"
Daisy stammered back. "Y-yeah... oh my gosh yeah..." Something about the way Rosa spoke made her feel instantly less ashamed.
Peach slowly uncovered her face, staring at Daisy's naked body. Peach squeaked, "W-well... at least you did it before the ceremony..."
Daisy was relieved they didn't make fun of her. Of course they didn't! They were friends! "Yeah... I- Nnnngh!" Daisy was interrupted by a stomach cramp. She squeezed her naked cheeks together, slowly wiggling her hips. Something newly dense and solid was pushing, hard. There wasn't anything to wipe with. She absolutely could not shit in the trash can. Peeing in it was already mortifying. She held it together.
Peach's expression turned back to worry. "Oh dear..."
An angry voice barked over the intercom. "You girls need to get out there to the ceremony NOW!"
Daisy tried to protest. "But-" The intercom shut off. Crying a little, she started putting her bodysuit back on.
Rosalina wasn't sure what to do, but she wanted to help. She went up to Daisy (who was still exposed from the waist up as she dressed herself) and put her hand on her shoulder. Rosa spoke soothingly. "Hey... it's a short ceremony, alright? You can make it through. We're both pulling for you."
Daisy wiped her tears away. "Thanks." Rosa was right. She couldn't give up now! She could do this! She put her suit on all the way, and the three of them filed out of the dressing room.
Daisy was hit by another cramp, bent over, and stumbled for a moment. Maybe she could do this, but it was going to be painful. |
sorry for the long delay, here’s part 2!
note: this part contains messing. also i headcanon another mario character as trans. worse, i headcanon yet another mario character as CIS. if you can handle such degeneracy, read on…
Daisy’s Double Desperation: Part 2
Princess Daisy was in trouble, but determined. She’d at least managed to avoid having to hold her pee through the ceremony, which was a genuine weight off her. And everyone goes number two less often than peeing, so holding that in should be easier, right?
She told herself this, but she wasn’t so sure. Now that she thought about it, it’d been at LEAST a couple days since she’d done... that. Her bowels were contracting rhythmically now, pushing insistently. Keeping it in was now a constant struggle.
Peach and Rosalina looked worried and sympathetic, but there was nothing they could do. The three of them walked briskly down the hallway (Daisy inelegantly squeezing her buttocks together with her hands), awkward and silent.
The princesses opened a set of double doors and stepped out into the light of Mario Kart Stadium. Daisy, in public now, was forced to stop holding herself physically, instead settling for clenching her butt as tight as she could. The hall opened up beneath the bleachers; the three were now on the carefully-manicured turf beside the racetrack. The sound of the crowd was deafening, packed with colorful spectators from many different kingdoms. A podium had been set up on the grass.
The trio strode toward the podium, doing their best to exude confidence. Daisy power-walked, putting on a fake smile, at one point glancing over her shoulder and waving at the crowd. She was determined to convince everyone that nothing was wrong, even as she barely held it together.
Suddenly, her tummy growled, and her self-assured gait was interrupted. She stumbled a little as her load pushed harder, and began to actually move. She squeezed herself shut tight, but despite her efforts a long, wet, bubbly fart erupted from her ass. Every bit of gas remaining was forcibly evacuated to make room for...
Deep between her soft buttocks, her anus began to open up as a heavy log insistently pushed against it. If only she hadn’t let out so much gas when she’d peed earlier, maybe she’d have more of a buffer now! Horrified, she clenched as hard as she could, fighting the waves of desperation, and, miraculously, it retreated.
All this felt like an eternity, but truthfully it took place over only a few seconds. Haltingly, stiffly now, she resumed walking. The deafening crowd had masked her... noises, and as far as anyone could tell from the bleachers she had just stopped for a moment for unclear reasons. Sweating all over, she took a deep, shaky breath. She could do this.
At least the ceremony was about to begin, without unnecessary delay. Though maybe if the organizers weren’t so obsessed with timeliness, she’d have been able to use the damn bathroom first!
Daisy stepped on the third place spot, the lowest, on the far left. If she’d thought to swallow her pride and hit the brakes to take fourth place, she wouldn’t be in this mess. Recognizing this now wasn’t doing her any good, though. Peach and Rosa stepped up too, taking third (opposite Daisy) and first (in the middle, highest of all).
Daisy was tense. Her anus was winking now. She was constantly on the verge of making a mess, and couldn’t stop thinking about how amazing it’d feel to let it all out. She just needed to make it through the ceremony…!
Three Toads emerged from the hall. (Not the animal, silly! These were people, short in stature, with mushroom hats. Or mushroom-shaped heads? Peach would know, but Daisy was far too preoccupied to ask.) Each of them stepped forth. They stopped a few yards from the podium, holding medals. One of them stepped up to Daisy.
This was her moment. All cameras on her. If she wanted to convince the crowd nothing was wrong, she had to show off her customary Daisy charm! That seemed... extraordinarily risky to her, but she reasoned that if she could pull it off without losing it, that’d really be the least embarrassing outcome for her. No one would suspect a thing, right?
She didn’t have a mic on her, so it was all in the body language. She’d practiced what she was about to do many times (though admittedly never while desperate to go). In one swift, fluid motion, she scooped up the medal and placed it around her neck. Then she settled into a pose: leaning right, but with her waist jutting out to the left, her left hand placed on her hip, her right hand making a “2” sign next to her beaming face. Perfect!
Almost perfect. Her butt had relaxed throughout all of this. Her bowels took the opportunity to push harder than they had before. As the camera turned to Peach, a log unceremoniously slid partway out of Daisy’s ass. A crackle was heard. From the outside, a bulge suddenly poked out between her tightly spandex-clad buttocks. It finally stopped moving, still partially lodged inside her.
Daisy froze, panicked. Was this really happening? Nobody seemed to have noticed; all attention was on Peach and Rosalina. She was still trying to keep her expression chipper.
It was really there. Daisy could feel the product of her failure, escaped from her shapely butt at the worst possible time. And yet nobody had acknowledged this?
She finally recognized some good news. She was facing TOWARD the crowd, and they couldn’t hear her at all. Nobody knew what happened. And with the exit straight ahead below the bleachers, maybe she could keep it that way!
Rosalina was awarded her gold medal, the audience cheering. The need for a brisk schedule being paramount, it was time for the princesses to leave. They stepped down from the podium and walked across the grass.
Daisy walked awkwardly, her eyes locked forward, trying to prevent more coming out. There wasn’t much she could do with her log partially out already though, and she shuddered as her stomach gurgled and her bowels started pushing again. She did her best to maintain her stride as the bulge on her rear grew. Finally, the whole thing was in her jumpsuit. She felt genuinely better, but knew there was more coming.
Somehow, the audience still didn’t notice. Daisy breathed a sigh of relief as the trio passed safely through the doors, into the hallway and out of sight.
Peach and Rosalina immediately turned to Daisy, concerned. “Are you alright?” asked Rosa. “Oh, dear,” Peach said, peeking at Daisy’s bottom and seeing the damage.
Daisy blushed deeply, mortified that the other princesses could see her like this, and starts to cry. “I- I’m so- I…”
“It’s okay,” Rosalina soothed. “It could happen to anyone. And you were great out there! No one in the audience could’ve been able to tell.” She hugged Daisy.
“You mean that?” Daisy replied.
“Of course.”
“Thank you…!” Daisy smiled and relaxed in the hug. As a result of her relaxing, another loud fart fired from her buttocks, and she tensed back up, pushing away from the hug. “O-oh, but I still need to go! And we’re so far from a bathroom, I can’t make it!”
“Don’t panic!” Rosalina says. “Come with us to the dressing room. I have a plan.”
And so the three walked together, Daisy moaning and squirming, involuntarily letting out little farts along the way. Peach blushed. She would never admit it, but Daisy’s predicament was exciting. Another thing she would never admit: she, too, needed to go at both ends. She clenched her butt, hoping this would be over soon.
And then, they were back in the dressing room.
“Okay,” Rosa began, “I have a spell that’s guaranteed to destroy everything attached to your body, but never your body itself. It can’t destroy living matter, and it’s basically the most powerful cleaning spell I have.”
“Oh my gosh! You can just get rid of the mess?” Daisy replied, astonished.
“That’s right! I couldn’t do it before the ceremony because it only works if it’s outside your body.”
“Ohhh. Then I guess I should… let the rest out now?”
“Well… yes.”
Peach felt her nipples harden. She couldn’t believe this was about to happen.
“Okay…” Daisy looked at the two of them. “Do you wanna watch?”
Peach blushed furiously. “How- W-why would-“
Daisy giggles mischievously. “Don’t think I don’t notice when you get horny!”
Peach stammered, defeated. “…Y-yes. Please.”
Daisy smirked. It seemed she’d get to show off today after all. She turned around and bent forward a bit, showing off the curvature of her ass, and pushed.
What happened next was a cacophony, almost indescribable. A hurricane of farts emerged, and then the bulge expanded again. The tight suit smooshed it against her bottom, but it just kept coming.
Peach still needed to go. Still, she watched, her pussy wet (not with pee). She never thought she’d get to see this. She starts rubbing herself through the fabric. But the sight was making it harder to hold her own needs. Her ass was bigger than Daisy or Rosa’s, hugged very tight by her pink suit. She let a fart escape, a long one, quiet but not silent. Uncharacteristically, she almost didn’t care.
Rosalina wasn’t as enraptured as Peach, but she felt her girldick get semi-hard. She was sort of into this too, although arousal hadn’t been her goal.
As Daisy pushed, she asked another question. “C-couldn’t you have done it at the ceremony? After I shat myself?”
“Well, no,” Rosa explained. “It destroys things attached to your body, so you’ll lose your clothes too. Not fun in front of a crowd!”
A hissing sound was heard. Daisy finished by peeing again; she must still have had some left. A clear wetness on the fabric spread from her dick down her legs. Finally, it stopped.
“Okay,” Daisy said, “I’m ready.”
Rosa summoned her wand, and cast her spell. “Wait, no!” The thing went haywire, and the whole room filled with light.
The dust settled. “I’m so sorry! Is anyone hurt?” Rosa said.
“No!” “Nope!” They weren’t injured.
The spell worked perfectly on Daisy. She was naked, and perfectly clean from head to toe, even between her buttocks.
Unfortunately, it had also worked on the others. Peach and Rosa gasped as they realized they were naked!
“Oh!” Peach covered herself. Rosa chuckled, making no effort to cover her large breasts and her cock. “I’m sorry, I’m just glad nobody’s hurt.”
Peach went to her bag and rifled through it, her bare, generous ass sticking out, clenching. “My clothes are gone!”
Daisy’s face fell. She checked her own bag. “Here too! The spell destroyed all our clothes! How are we gonna get out of here without anyone seeing?”
Rosa frowned, then got an idea. “We have this room to ourselves. All we have to do is wait a few hours for everyone to leave, and sneak out when the stadium is closed!”
Daisy relaxed. “Oh, of course! I should’ve thought of that.”
Peach wasn’t so reassured. She felt a wave of pressure on her urethra. Meanwhile, a fart started bubbling up and she began actively squeezing herself shut to contain it. She just nodded. “Mmm-hmm.”
(to be continued! if you like this story, please leave a comment! it makes it much easier to get motivation!) |
Elise had returned from her latest mission to her house. As she walked to the house, she started to wiggle in desperation with her legs crossing together.
"I shouldn't have drank 32 ounces of that lemonade," she muttered searching through her pockets shaking as if she was shivering from the cold. "Now where'd I put my... "
Then she remembered! She had given the keys to Chris for safe keeping. So while trying to hold her bladder tight, Elise pulled out her cellphone and punched in Chris' number.
Chris answered the phone. "Hello," he answered. "Chris, honey, it's me!" Elise replied. "Oh hey, Elise," Chris replied back. "How are you?"
"I'll be fine," Elise told him through gritted teeth still desperate to use the bathroom. "Just as soon as you open the door now. I really have to go!"
"GO?" Chris asked sounding hesitant. "Oh, well, I'm afraid... I have a problem. I'm not at home."
"What do you mean you're not at home?!" Elise shouted.
"See, I had to come here to Burgerphile to pick up my order," Chris told her. "I ordered it through the phone and I'm here right now to pick it up. So I'll be right over in a while."
"I can't wait a while, Chris!" Elise shouted desperately. "I have a full bladder here! I need to get into to house so I can tinkle!"
"Well, it's going to take me a while to get back home, Elise," Chris said.
"So I'm locked out here holding on to dear life of my bladder until you come back?!" Elise shouted still squirming to keep her bladder tight.
"No," Chris told her. "I had Dan stay around while I get my order."
Elise then stared ahead in horror. "Oh no," she whispered.
The last thing she wanted was to have Dan stay alone in her house. There was no telling what chaos he would have started while he was inside alone. So Elise quickly headed for the window and stared through the window. There was Dan resting on the couch with a bored look on his face as he flipped through channels.
"Man, all these channels and there is just nothing on," he muttered under his breath. "I'm starting to give up on television at this point."
Just then, Dan heard a loud tap at the window. He walked over to see Elise tapping on the glass. She was stomping her feet on the ground while holding on tightly to her crotch.
"Elise?" Dan said. "Where did you come from?"
"Never mind that, Dan!" Elise shouted. "Just open the door so I can go to the bathroom!"
Dan then thought about it. He was quite enjoying Elise's desperation and wanted to have a little fun before letting her in. "Hmm... give me one good reason why I should let you in."
"Because it's my house!" Elise shouted.
"Why?" Dan asked.
"Because I paid for it!" Elise yelled.
"Why?" Dan asked again.
"Because I got the money for the house!"
"Why?" Dan asked once again.
"BECAUSE I NEED A PLACE TO STAY INSIDE... AND PEE!" Elise shouted angrily.
Dan then paused once again. "Why?" he finally repeated.
"DAN!" Elise growled loudly. "Open this door right now!"
"Open it?" Dan asked. "I would open it. But I'd be touching your property, which you wouldn't like."
"I'm serious, Dan!" Elise snapped. "OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!"
Dan just thought for a moment. "I'll have Chris open it for you," he said. "He'll be back in a few minutes."
Dan just walked away. "Dan! You come back here!" Elise shouted angrily. "I swear, if I wet myself, I'll shove you down the toilet! Dan! DAAAN!"
Elise stared angrily at the window. She continued to grab her crotch tightly. The urine wasn't going to hold inside any longer, and Elise couldn't afford wet pants.
So she went to the backdoor to open it, only for Dan to beat her to it and lock it. "Too slow," Dan said smiling.
Elise growled. "DAN!" she shouted furiously.
Dan just walked away casually with a smug smile on his face. Elise felt her bladder stinging. "Just hold it, Elise," she told herself. "You're going to make it. You'll make it."
So Elise went to the kitchen window, only to find that Dan had locked the window. Elise just stared at Dan furiously as she banged on the window. "You're a dead man, Dan!" she shouted.
"No, I'm healthy and well hydrated," Dan retorted. "I think I need a glass of water to quench my thirst."
So Dan went into the refrigerator and pulled out a full jug of ice cold water. This only made Elise's desperation worse. She continued holding onto her crotch as she watched Dan pour the water into a cup.
"Look at the lovely waterfall," Dan said trying to get in Elise's head. "Such a nice splash."
Dan then took the cup of water and started gulping it down slowly, causing Elise to squeeze herself together harder. Dan was really making it harder for her.
As Dan finished, he walked to the sink. "Now to rinse out my cup," he stated.
Elise's desperation got even worse when she saw the faucet running as Dan washed out his cup. Dan was really enjoying seeing Elise so desperate to get inside to use the bathroom. He was hoping that Elise would wet her pants and he would videotape it to show the whole world Elise's embarrassing accident.
As Dan walked away, Elise grabbed her crotch as she raced to the other side of the house, only to learn those windows were locked as well. She then returned to the glass window and saw Dan sitting on the couch. "DAN!" Elise shouted banging on the window. "DAN! YOU OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!"
Dan pretended he didn't hear her and watched a channel with a river. Elise was very desperate to use the bathroom that she had to quickly stare away. When she looked around, she saw the bushes around the house. She thought about it, but then she thought against it.
"No. You're better than this, Elise," she whispered to herself. "Just hold it until Chris comes back with the key."
But by this time, Elise felt her bladder about to leak, and she was left with a choice: either wet herself, or relieve herself behind the bushes. "Fine!" Elise finally shouted in despair. "I can't believe I'm really going to do this."
Elise felt so embarrassed to do it. But she knew that she would wet her pants if she didn't just go right away, and Dan was obviously not going to let her step in the house until he would see Elise with wet pants.
Elise looked around and went inside the shed in the backyard. She went inside one of her drawers and found a piece of soft handkerchief. It was in mint condition and clean.
Feeling the drops of liquid on its way to exit out of her lower regions, Elise quickly dashed outside and stood behind the bushes. With the handkerchief in her left hand, Elise looked around to make sure no one else was watching. After a while, she finally pulled her pants and panties down, squatted down, and started to pee.
While Elise was finally relieved she was able to pee without wetting herself, she was still angry with Dan for locking her out and forcing her to squat and pee behind the bushes instead. She especially hated the cold breeze blowing through her bare butt while she was peeing a river on the lawn.
"Grr, I am going to MURDER him!" Elise growled underneath her breath.
After about 40 seconds had passed, Elise then heard Dan laughing. She looked straight ahead just to see Dan recording Elise squatted while peeing on his cellphone. "Smile, Elise," Dan sneered capturing Elise, who was staring holes at Dan.
"Dan, I am going to KILL YOU when I'm finished!" Elise told Dan angrily. She was so angry that her pee stream started pouring quickly. She was really forming a river on the grass.
Dan just laughed. "When you gotta go, you gotta go, sweetheart," Dan mocked. "You might beat the world record of peeing at the longest time once I put this on YT."
Dan laughed, and Elise finally finished after a minute and 20 seconds. "You better not, Dan!" Elise told him as she began to wipe. "I swear, you post that video for everyone to see me, I will KILL you!"
After wiping, she tossed away the handkerchief and pulled up her pants. She stared angrily at Dan and started to chase him. "Come here, you lousy jerk!" Elise shouted as Dan ran away in fear.
"I don't think I thought this through!" Dan cried apprehensively.
Just then, a pair of headlights shined on them both. It was Chris, who had parked in the driveway just in time. He hopped out of the car, holding a Burgerphile bag, and stared at Dan and Elise.
"Need I asked what's going on here?" he started.
"Nothing, Chris," Dan told him grinning widely, trying to seem innocent. "There wasn't anything going on between me and Elise, right?"
"Not yet," Elise grumbled silently.
"Whatever," Chris said sounding uninterested. "Listen, I'm going to finish my food inside now."
Before Chris made his way to the door, he noticed a long trail of urine trickling through the grass. "Say, what's that?" he asked.
"Just a small river," Elise told him.
"Yellow river?" Chris asked.
"Let's just go inside," Elise said shoving Chris to the front door, with Dan following along. "I'm still going to kill you, Dan," Elise muttered under her breath.
Dan gulped a little. He was afraid for a bit, but at the same time, he was glad he got a video of Elise and just smiled at his cellphone.
The End |
Last night I was sort of recovering from illness still and wasn't feeling that great and I knew I wasn't going to get much done, so I just started looking through my story list for upcoming stories that I wanted to write and I came across this one that I thought of back in January I thought, yeah I can do that in an hour, so I ended up going through with it. I usually don't write fetish stuff when I am not feeling well since I am usually not in a fetish mood when I am tired, sick and lethargic and not eating anything, but I also tend not to write stuff that is as serious when I am sick, so I tend to focus more and fetish stuff and comedy stuff.
This was inspired by something in another thread where everyone was talking about whether people ever tried peeing on a campfire as a way of putting it out. My response was that that would probably be difficult for women seeing as women would have to hover over the fire and everything and risk burning their ass whereas men could aim it. Basically the whole story developed from there then where it become sort of a pissing contest between men and women with that whole idea of men using their penises like fire hoses, but with my character wanting to prove that women could do so as well. I hope you enjoy! You can also read it in my blog at https://desperatejill83.livejournal.com/6121.html
Peeing on Fires
As Jill, Chrissy, Kate, Henry and George all sat around the roaring campfire naturally their discussion turned to all sorts of deep and profound philosophical questions about the universe.
"What do you want to bet that I could piss out that entire fire by urinating into it?" Henry asked.
"I bet that I could totally piss out that fire much easier than you could, especially after a couple of beers," George said.
"Why does everything with guys ultimately come down to a pissing contest?" Jill asked.
"What, you girls are just jealous that we can piss out a fire while you can't cause you lack the proper firefighting equipment," Henry said as he patted the crotch of his pants. "You just have never known the joy of aiming at a fire and peeing all over it and watching it go out. It is a raw feeling of power and dominance over the forces of nature."
"That sounds like it's kind of dangerous," Chrissy said. "Aren't you worried that you might like burn your Dick off or something?"
"Hey we have a lot of experience making sure we don't accidentally burn our Dicks off, it's something you learn early when you are a guy," George said. "We know how to pee on a fire without burning off our Dicks, it's a natural talent."
"Well I have to admit that I have never peed out a fire before," Kate said. "In fact I never even had the idea of thinking about putting out a fire with my urine before."
"Well I do admit it would be probably harder for us to do it than a guy though, I mean guys at least can aim into the fire, we would have to basically hover our ass over the fire and that sounds even more dangerous," Jill said. "I mean I don't even like squatting outdoors in general, I certainly don't want to squat over a fire and risk falling back and burning my ass or pussy on a raging campfire."
Henry shook his head. "Girls are weird, they miss out on some of the most exciting things in life like this."
"I kind of wonder if this is the reason why more women don't grow up to be firefighters," Kate said. "Somehow I feel like guys have a natural instinct to piss all over everything and that being a fireman is just sort of a natural extension of the desire to urinate all over everything."
"Wow that's pretty deep," George said as he drank another beer and wished he had some pot. "I guess being out here in nature under the stars and everything like that really gets the mental juices flowing. It kinda makes me wonder if maybe out there there are some aliens looking down on us as they urinate on their campfires. Wait would aliens urinate, I mean I presume they would wouldn't they?"
The five of them continued eating and drinking into the night and over time their bladders naturally started filling up rather fast.
"Well I think that I need to drain the lizard, and I think that I'm going to use it to put out this campfire," Henry said as he unzipped his fly and began peeing in the fire causing smoke to come out and he started looking really relieved and pleased with himself.
"That is totally gross," Chrissy said as she crossed her legs subtly not wanting to make it obvious. She hadn't peed in about nine hours and all of those liquids were getting to her bladder but she didn't want to admit that she had to go pop a squat somewhere. However watching Henry urinate was not making it any easier for her to ignore her own need.
Jill and Kate likewise were sitting there with their legs crossed and tapping their toes as they watched Henry smile with relief as he stood above the smoldering fire that nonetheless continued to burn rather strongly.
"Well it looks like you aren't destined to be a firefighter after all," Kate said. "You may have peed a really long time but that fire isn't anywhere close to being completely put out. Smokey the Bear would not be impressed with you."
Henry seemed as though his pride had been wounded as a man and he shook his head. "Well I don't see you contributing anything to putting out the fire."
"She probably just has enough sense that she doesn't want to burn her ass and nether regions on a fire doing some type of stupid stunt," Jill said. "Women don't have to reduce everything in the world to a pissing contest, we are a little bit more mature about these things."
Jill, Chrissy and Kate all sat there looking at each other with that look that said, good God do I have to pee right now but I don't want to make a scene. They were all thinking that maybe they should go off together saying that they just need to have a girls talk as an excuse to go relieve themselves discreetly, but then they saw George stepping up and throwing his beer can on the floor.
"Watch as a real man puts this fire out," George said as he unzipped his fly and began peeing into the fire as he moaned with relief as more puffs of smoke came up from the fire that was not yet still fully extinguished.
"Oh well bravo, it seems that you can't put out the fire either big man," Henry said sarcastically clapping.
"Well I did more than you did hotshot," George said as he shook his head and looked away.
"Well hey at least we did our part to put out the fire, we know that the women certainly aren't going to do it," Henry said as he and George high-fived each other in a way of trying to save face in their loss of masculinity for failing to put out the fire successfully.
They could see that the three women were looking decidedly uncomfortable after watching them urinate into the campfire but they knew that the women probably didn't want to admit that they were bursting.
"Do you ladies want any more drinks," Henry said as he opened another beer, clearly to taunt them.
"I mean unless they feel that they can't hold their liquor," George said realizing that they had just been challenged to a drinking contest with two men that had just relieved themselves and if they didn't accept the challenge they would lose face.
The three women looked at each other with determination but also a look of worry as they sort of shook their heads and reluctantly each took a can of beer and slowly started drinking it, before looking at each other again as though they had just made the biggest mistake of their lives.
Another hour or so of drinking followed as Henry and George took turns peeing into the fire to try and put it out as the women sat there on a log sort of squirming around and looking increasingly uncomfortable by the minute. It was blatantly obvious to both of the guys that the women were going out of their minds and could barely sit still because of the fullness of their bladders.
"What's the matter ladies, you all look uncomfortable for some reason, is everything okay?" Henry said with a wickedly evil smile. Seeing them in that situation where he knew they were obviously bursting but didn't want to admit it was giving him a major hard on that he was trying hard to hide.
"Oh fuck it, I'm going to show that a woman can be a firefighter just as well as a guy," Kate said as she stood up, pulled down her pants, spread her legs and let loose with a powerful stream into the fire as the four others stood there staring directly at her with this raw display of feminine force.
"Wow, God damn," George said shaking his head as the fire started letting up larger amounts of smoke than ever before.
"Well it looks like I out pissed both of you guys," Kate said as she pulled up her pants and sat down on the log between Chrissy and Jill looking relieved. As she shook the log she couldn't help but notice that Jill and Chrissy cringed from the movement.
"Hey don't rock the boat," Chrissy said as her bladder began to throb.
"Wow I can't believe you just did that," Jill said.
"I can't either, but I guess when you're drinking that much and your bladder is that bursting you tend to lose a lot of your inhibitions," Kate said. "All I know is that I feel so much better right now."
As Jill and Chrissy saw Kate lean back on the log looking smug and satisfied with a relaxed look on her face they were both trying not to whimper, but they both realized that watching her go to the bathroom made them both more frantic than ever.
As the night continued and they drank more and more Jill and Chrissy were becoming positively frantic to the point where they were barely able to stop shaking their legs. Jill was practically carving things into the log with her fingernails.
"Does anyone want more to drink," George said as he held up another beer and offered it to Chrissy.
"Oh Lord I just can't take it anymore," Chrissy said as she ripped down her pants, spread her legs and began peeing right into the fire causing big clouds of smoke to come up as she moaned and sighed with relief. She smiled and looked at everybody as she pulled up her pants. "And I didn't even burn my ass off!"
They all had a good laugh as Jill continued to sit on the log looking anxiously at the fire which was still burning in spite of the fact that four people had already urinated extensively on it. Seeing all of them urinate into the fire was just making her go completely out of her mind but she didn't want to give into peer pressure.
The four of them gathered around Jill on the log looking with evil smiles on their faces.
Jill shook her head. "I'm sorry you guys but if you think that I am going to pee on the fire like all of you like some animal you have another thing coming. Like I said, I don't believe in turning everything into a pissing contest."
"Suit yourself Jill, does anyone want more to drink," George said as the four of them began drinking as Jill looked on with an anxious glare.
Over the next half hour as everybody continued drinking except for her, Jill sat there rocking back and forth on the log tapping her feet furiously on the ground, whistling to herself and digging her fingers into the log. She could hear the stream trickling not far away and the sound was driving her completely insane but she did not want to give into peer pressure and involve herself in a pissing contest.
Jill started gritting her teeth and she was finding it almost impossible to concentrate on anything else. She knew that the campsite bathrooms were at least a 15 minute hike and as soon as she stood up she realized that she wasn't going to make it. She wasn't exactly sure what she was going to do. She considered just trying to make a run for it, but as she felt all of that pressure rushing to her bladder when she stood up she realized that there was only one option.
"I'm never going to live this down," Jill said as she hobbled over to the fire, slowly pulled her pants down, spread her legs and let loose with a powerful hissing stream of urine directly into the center of the fire until thick clouds of smoke were coming up and causing her to cough and her eyes to water.
Finally she had finished and pulled up her pants looking extremely relieved and self-satisfied.
"I believe that pissing contests are really immature and everything, but how about that, it looks like the fire is finally out," Jill said as she smiled and walked away with a confident stride.
"Well she knows that we all helped, it's always easy to get the last bit in to finish the job after everybody else has been working at it for a while," Henry said.
"Yeah we totally assisted you with that, you just finished it off," George said as Jill smiled and walked off into the tent.
Chrissy put her arms around Henry and George. "Face it guys this is one pissing contest that you did not win. We all beat you this time, and I think the Jill beat all of us through sheer determination and stubbornness, or just the fact that we could tell that there was no way she was going to make it all the way back to the campsite bathrooms without wet pants. One way or another, we kicked your asses!"
"To Jill," Kate said as the four of them opened their beers and clinked their glasses together before taking a sip. "America's next future firefighter."
"And she didn't even need a hose!" Chrissy said as they all burst out in hysterical laughter. |
Here's another Equestria Girls story. I know they're not very popular here but there are a few who'd appreciate it...
Contains a few farts, but not a whole lot. And stretchy scenarios. (On fimfiction I mentioned "deliberate wetting" as a stretchy scenario but of course everyone here knows for a fact that it's not stretchy at all - even those who don't engage in it for fun must have seen at least one video that couldn't have been faked, just not sure how many people on fimfiction know it's a thing. Outwardly I'm very different from how I am here and I love wetting myself when no one's around so for all we know Rarity could secretly have fun with it, and Pinkie certainly wouldn't be a stretch as she's weirder than any of us. But this story is about Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy.)
Wet Flutterdash
Chapter 1: Wet Dashie and Flutters
Fluttershy was running to Rainbow Dash's house. She wasn't nearly as fast a runner as Rainbow Dash but it felt good to get some exercise. Today was her first day wearing a sporty outfit Rarity had made for her, consisting of a white tank top and short, skintight green shorts. She knew Rainbow Dash liked her either way but she wanted to show her this outfit, she knew Rainbow would like it because she was super athletic and often wore similar outfits.
It was a hot day, so Fluttershy was dripping with sweat by the time she arrived at Rainbow's house. She rang the doorbell.
The door quickly opened, and Rainbow Dash stood there wearing a short skintight pair of shorts the same shade of blue as her hair, and a matching sports bra. "Hi Fluttershy. You look awesome in that outfit."
Fluttershy blushed lightly. "Thanks, Dashie. I knew you'd like it."
"How does it feel?"
"Really tight. But I kinda like it." Fluttershy blushed a little more and smiled cutely. She walked in. "How does my rear end look?" She wiggled her butt slightly in Rainbow's direction.
"Really cute." Rainbow slapped Fluttershy's butt lightly. She knew Fluttershy liked it. "You really sweated a lot getting here. Want some cool drinks?"
"That would be nice."
Rainbow Dash got Fluttershy a large glass of water and three cans each of soda and cider. By the time Fluttershy finished drinking them all, she was feeling refreshed and cooled down, and not the slightest bit thirsty. As she and Rainbow sat on the couch playing games and watching sports, the sweat dried off her. She still smelled a little, but she didn't mind, and neither did Rainbow. Besides, sometimes Rainbow would smell worse than her if she ran some laps around the track and didn't shower, and Fluttershy kind of liked that. She blushed just thinking about it.
Then, she had to go to the bathroom. All her drinks had hit her and she had also drank a large cup of tea before going to Rainbow's house.
It should have been easy saying it to Rainbow Dash, but she was always too shy to say she needed the bathroom. So she hid her desperation as best she could and held it. Usually she would wait for Rainbow Dash to go and then use one of the other bathrooms. She only hoped Rainbow would have to pee soon too. Rainbow was known for peeing like a race horse, her stream was even louder than Applejack's if you were standing on the other side of the door. Fluttershy blushed thinking about this as well, then tried to think about something else as it was making it harder for her to hold it.
As the minutes went by, Fluttershy's need to pee became more and more urgent. She held her legs together tight, though not crossing them, figuring it would be too obvious, and fidgeted slightly where she sat.
Her fidgeting did not go unnoticed by Rainbow. The movement was easy for her to notice, as was the look of discomfort on her face. Rainbow could have said something, but decided not to, figuring that if Fluttershy needed to go badly enough, she would say so, and if she didn't make it... she had something in mind. Plus, Fluttershy looked really cute needing to pee.
Fluttershy could feel her bladder getting more full by the minute. She wished she hadn't drank so much. She really needed to go, and at this point she couldn't hide it anymore. She crossed her legs and squirmed harder. It didn't help that her shorts were really tight.
Rainbow wondered whether she should say something. It was obvious Fluttershy had to pee really badly, but nothing was stopping her from saying something like "I'll be right back" and running to the bathroom.
Eventually, Fluttershy couldn't hold it anymore. She felt her shorts grow warm and wet, and a hissing noise was heard. Fluttershy stopped fidgeting as she realized she was peeing full force. She tried her hardest to stop her stream, but it only got stronger. She could feel the wetness soaking her butt and the cushion she was sitting on. As she peed, she whimpered and moved her legs so her knees were up and her feet resting on the couch, with a look of embarrassment on her face. Her stream continued to soak her skintight shorts as she sat in this position.
Rainbow thought Fluttershy looked cute in this position and wetting herself, but she felt bad for her. She knew how embarrassing this must be. But she had a plan for making her feel better. It would reveal her deepest secret, but she'd gladly do it for Fluttershy.
After just over two minutes, Fluttershy stopped peeing. She put her arms around her knees and her head between them, blushing beet red. She had just had an accident in her shorts in front of the girl she had a crush on. She'd never live this down.
"Are you all right, Fluttershy?" Rainbow asked.
"I peed myself," Fluttershy said.
"Hey, there's no need to be ashamed. It's all right to pee yourself. It's wet, but it's harmless. Plus, it feels really good. Here."
Fluttershy heard a hissing noise. At first she thought she was peeing again, but then realized it was coming from beside her. She looked sideways at Rainbow Dash. The tomboyish rainbow-haired girl was smiling with a relaxed look on her face, and her shorts were rapidly darkening as a puddle grew on her cushion. Fluttershy couldn't believe it. Rainbow Dash was wetting her shorts deliberately, and enjoying it. Could it be possible? Could wetting herself not be as bad as she thought? Could it actually be... fun? Now that Fluttershy was thinking about this, the warm wetness on her shorts did feel kind of nice, combined with the relief after holding it so long. Her embarrassment had blocked these feelings before but now she couldn't deny them.
Rainbow peed for about a minute, even though she didn't have to go that bad. Usually she'd pee about as long as Fluttershy did, but she wanted to pee in this moment so she and Fluttershy could be wet together. Once she finished peeing, she said "Feel better?"
Fluttershy gave her a hug with a smile on her face. She no longer cared who saw her wet herself and felt she could even do it in front of all her friends. "Much better," she said. "And I think you're right, it does feel kind of nice."
Rainbow patted Fluttershy's butt lightly. It was soaked in urine but she didn't care. If anything it felt better wet. Not that her shorts hadn't been soaked with sweat the first time but pee was even better.
"I'm so sorry I peed all over your couch."
"Don't be. This isn't the first time I peed on it."
"If you don't mind me asking, how long have you been peeing yourself?"
"At least a few years. One day I drank a lot and decided to see how long I could hold it for. I held it for three hours and sixteen minutes before I wet myself. I liked the feeling so I've been wetting ever since. Sometimes you've seen me in black shorts that don't show wetness. More often than not I'd pee in them whenever I ran to the bathroom. Same with my swimsuit. And you have no idea how much I wet my snowpants when we were playing in the snow, partly because I didn't want to go inside, and partly because I really like how it feels."
"Maybe I should try peeing my wetsuit sometime."
"Definitely, if you want to."
They sat in their wet shorts and continued watching sports.
After the current game was over, Rainbow said "I'm getting something to drink. Do you want something?"
"Yes," said Fluttershy. "I'd like a lot of them. So I can pee more." She blushed lightly.
"You got it," said Rainbow.
They each drank a big glass of water, two sodas, and three ciders.
"Hey, how would you like an extra large slushy from the convenience store?" Rainbow asked.
"I'd like that."
"I'll go get it as I am. I don't care if anyone sees me wet myself anymore. If they do, so what? They all know I'm awesome!"
"I'll go with you."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I don't really care either."
"If you say so."
They went to the convenience store. As they got their extra large slushies, people noticed their wet shorts but didn't say anything, as if going to the bathroom on yourself was no big deal. As Rainbow paid for the slushies, the cashier said "You look like you just drank one of these already," with a lighthearted smile but no ridicule. Rainbow and Fluttershy just giggled, not feeling the slighest bit ashamed.
They returned to Rainbow's house, drinking their slushies on the way. By this time their shorts were damp rather than soaked, as it was still hot out.
Once they were inside, they sat back on the couch, and continued watching sports, until their drinks hit them hard.
"I have to pee," said Fluttershy. It was so much easier to say now that she could wet herself without shame.
"Me too," said Rainbow Dash. "Want to see how long we can hold it?"
"I know you can hold it longer, but it sounds like fun." Fluttershy crossed her legs and fidgeted, this time enjoying her desperation.
Rainbow was also enjoying this. It was always fun to hold it, but it was even more fun to hold it with Fluttershy. Both of them really needing to pee, knowing they'd end up wet, and looking forward to this as well.
Eventually, Fluttershy reached the point that was minutes away from where she had wet herself last time. She was really excited for the wetting, as much as she was enjoying the desperation, so rather than try to hold it the last few minutes, she just let it all out and peed her shorts for the second time today. She sighed of relief as the warm wetness once again spread through her crotch and butt. This time she could take pleasure in the wetting itself, and she absolutely loved it.
Hearing Fluttershy peeing and sighing, as well as looking at how wet her shorts were getting, made it harder for Rainbow to hold it. She leaked a little and whimpered, then chuckled, enjoying this.
Fluttershy sat and peed for about two and a half minutes. Rainbow leaked a few more times before Fluttershy finished.
"Ah, that's better," said Fluttershy. Her shorts were drenched and the wet spot on the couch was bigger than ever.
"Ooh... I've never held it with someone else peeing herself right next to me," said Rainbow. "I'm about to burst!"
Fluttershy smiled and started tickling Rainbow's armpits. Rainbow immediately started laughing hard, for she was extremely ticklish.
"HAHAHAHA! STOP! I'M GONNA PEE! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Fluttershy tickled harder, but Rainbow was already peeing like a race horse in her shorts. Fluttershy kept tickling away, enjoying the sight of Rainbow wetting herself. She knew Rainbow must be enjoying this if she loved wetting so much, and she probably hadn't been tickled into it before so it was probably a new experience for her.
Fluttershy stopped tickling a few seconds after Rainbow stopped peeing. "Feel better?" Fluttershy asked.
Rainbow caught her breath. "Much better." She felt her wet shorts. "And now I don't have to go to the bathroom anymore." She chuckled.
"I've been a naughty girl. I need a spanking."
"No you don't. We both love wetting, and it's all harmless fun!"
"Yes, I do." Fluttershy winked.
Rainbow realized Fluttershy wanted a spanking. She should have known right away, for she always liked it when Rainbow slapped her butt. "Over my lap, then." Fluttershy immediately climbed over Rainbow's lap. Rainbow really liked the sight of her butt in her sopping wet shorts. She put her hand on her tush and rubbed it, enjoying how it felt. "How hard do you want it?"
"Spank me as hard as you can," said Fluttershy, who was also enjoying Rainbow rubbing her behind.
"That's really gonna hurt."
"Would you be willing to give me a butt massage after?"
"You bet your wet little rear end I am!" Rainbow patted Fluttershy's butt lightly, then slapped her butt as hard as she could.
Pain shot through Fluttershy's rear but she enjoyed it. "Keep going, Dashie."
Rainbow spanked Fluttershy again, and again. With each swat, droplets of pee flew from her shorts. Fluttershy had a look of absolute pleasure on her face. Being spanked by Rainbow Dash in wet shorts was so much fun. She loved her butt being slapped, she loved peeing herself, and she loved Rainbow Dash.
After about thirty swats, Rainbow stopped.
"Aw, no more?" Fluttershy asked.
"Your butt must really hurt after all that. Time for your butt massage."
"Right." Fluttershy got off Rainbow Dash and got down on all fours with her head down and her butt in the air.
Rainbow started rubbing Fluttershy's rear end. She loved the sight of Fluttershy's butt in her face, in this position, in wet skintight shorts. She loved how her shorts smelled of pee, and she loved how soft her tush was, not to mention how wet.
Fluttershy took just as much pleasure in this. She could already feel the pain from the spanking going away. She loved buttplay, especially when Rainbow Dash was doing it to her.
Then she let out an airy fart in Rainbow Dash's face.
"Fluttershy!" said Rainbow Dash.
Fluttershy blushed. "Excuse me."
"You don't have to say that around me. Fart all you want!" Rainbow sniffed deeply and sighed of pleasure. Fluttershy giggled.
About ten minutes into the butt massage, Fluttershy had to pee again. She didn't want Rainbow to stop rubbing her butt, plus she loved wetting herself now.
Likewise, Rainbow also had to go to the bathroom, and didn't want to stop rubbing Fluttershy's butt.
Fluttershy sighed as she peed herself again. This time the pee was flowing down her legs. She really liked how this felt too, just as much as peeing in sitting position.
Rainbow chuckled, then peed her already-wet shorts as well.
After ten more minutes, Rainbow stopped rubbing Fluttershy's butt. "Did you enjoy that?"
"Yes. It was so much fun. I didn't want it to stop so I peed in my shorts." She giggled cutely.
"Me too." Rainbow patted Fluttershy's butt and stood up.
...
Soon it was bedtime.
"Want to change into pajamas or go into my bed as you are now?" Rainbow asked.
"As I am now, if that's all right," said Fluttershy. She and Rainbow were still in their wet shorts, having peed in them multiple times after the butt massage.
"I have mattress protection. You think I haven't peed in my bed before?"
"What a naughty, wet girl you are," said Fluttershy with a smile.
Rainbow liked hearing words like this. "If at any point you have to pee, you can do it in my bed."
"I will."
Rainbow and Fluttershy climbed into bed in their wet shorts. Rainbow patted Fluttershy's butt, and Fluttershy patted Rainbow's butt back, enjoying the feeling of both her butt and her wet shorts, before they fell asleep.
They both woke up to Rainbow's alarm, really needing to pee.
"Good morning, Dashie," said Fluttershy. At first she thought she had wet the bed, but then remembered her wet fun with Rainbow yesterday.
"Good morning, Flutters," said Rainbow. "I really have to pee."
"Me too."
A hissing noise was heard and Rainbow sighed in relief.
Fluttershy giggled, then let go and peed her shorts and the bed, also sighing of relief then giggling, enjoying the relief, the wetness, and the naughtiness of what she was doing.
Rainbow and Fluttershy cuddled in their puddle for an hour before they got out of bed and took a bubble bath in their wet shorts.
"This was really fun," said Rainbow Dash. "I'm probably gonna wet myself a lot more. If our friends don't mind, I'll start doing it in front of them too."
"Me too," said Fluttershy. Bubbles appeared in the water around her. She blushed and giggled.
Rainbow smiled, and bubbles appeared around her for twice as long as Fluttershy, and she sighed of relief. Fluttershy giggled again.
Chapter 2: A Wet Wedding
Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy had been wetting a lot more since their first wet day/night, and told their friends about it. None of them minded one bit.
Twilight Sparkle had said it wasn't that unusual and given a lengthy description about "omorashi", a fetish for wetting oneself.
Sunset Shimmer had said something like that would never affect their friendship, especially after all they'd forgiven her for.
Pinkie Pie, naturally, had found it funny and would sometimes tickle Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy into wetting themselves, which they liked, and in turn, sometimes when Pinkie really needed to pee, Rainbow Dash would either tickle her or let out a loud fart, both of which would make Pinkie pee her jean shorts, teal romper, or pink skirt from laughing too hard, and she would always find this funny as well, to the point that whenever she had to pee around Rainbow Dash, she looked in her direction as if asking her to induce a laugh wetting.
Applejack had taken advantage of this opportunity for friendly competition and challenged Rainbow to holding contests. Sometimes Rainbow won, sometimes Applejack won, sometimes they tied and wet themselves at the same time. Sometimes Fluttershy would add an extra challenge by wetting herself in front of them, after holding alongside them, and sighing of relief. Whoever won the holding contests would let go and wet herself shortly after. Applejack usually wore tight jeans or short, tight jean shorts for this.
And Rarity had said that she didn't care how unladylike her friends were, and that it wasn't a big deal. She was a little surprised that Fluttershy found it to be fun but was glad she didn't have to worry about a humiliation factor in wetting anymore. Furthermore, after witnessing a few wettings, Rarity revealed that she wet the bed, and knowing Rainbow and Fluttershy wet for fun made her feel less ashamed of it.
"If that's why you don't wanna sleep in the same bed as me, don't worry your pretty li'l head about it none," said Applejack. "Ah don't mind if you pee all over me when we sleep. In fact, whenever you wake up wet, I'll wet my pajamas too."
"Awww," said Rarity, hugging Applejack. "You don't mind that I sleep in my underwear, do you?"
"Not even a little bit." Applejack smiled and slapped Rarity's butt. Rarity giggled.
...
Soon, the day of Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy's wedding arrived. Rarity had made wedding dresses for both of them. By their request, while still looking fancy, the skirt wasn't overly wide.
"If you have to go to the bathroom while wearing the dress, you can just go right there," Rarity had said. "I don't mind."
Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy stood at the altar in their wedding dresses. Underneath, Fluttershy wore pink panties, and Rainbow Dash wore pink boyshort panties. She planned to give Fluttershy many upskirt views on their honeymoon and would enjoy whatever comments she made about her cute underwear.
Both had also drank lots of water, ice tea, and, in Rainbow's case, cider today. So they needed to pee rather badly. They could have used the bathroom before the wedding, of course, but they had their own little plan for this.
"Do you have to pee as much as I do?" Rainbow whispered to Fluttershy.
Fluttershy nodded with a cute smile on her face.
After they exchanged their vows and I do's, Rainbow and Fluttershy kissed. As they did, a hissing sound could be heard emanating from both of them as they peed in their dresses. Their panties took most of the damage and pee flowed down their legs and made a big puddle at their feet. Pee also dripped off the skirts of their dresses.
"That's nothing to be ashamed of," said Mayor Mare. "Wettings are not uncommon at weddings."
Rainbow and Fluttershy just giggled.
After the reception was over, Rainbow and Fluttershy got ready to leave for their honeymoon.
"Have a fun, wet honeymoon," said Applejack, winking at them.
"Don't worry, we will," said Rainbow.
In addition to the punch they drank at the wedding, Rainbow and Fluttershy also stopped at the convenience store for a soda and an extra large slushy for each of them. They had barely hit the road when they had to pee again. They had fun holding it for a bit, and when the urge got intense, they let it out in their wedding dresses again. This time the front of the skirts were tinted yellow, and they were sure the same applied to the butt of their dress, given that they were peeing in sitting position. Their panties were absolutely soaked. They giggled at the contrast of girls in fancy dresses doing something so dirty.
Then Rainbow Dash let out a short, loud, wet fart and chuckled.
Fluttershy giggled, and then a long, loud, deep-pitched fart made its way out of her. BBBBBRRRRRRT!
...
A week later, Rainbow and Fluttershy returned. They had not washed or changed out of their dresses since the wedding, so they smelled bad and their dresses were dirty, especially the skirt parts of them, because although they never messed themselves, whenever they needed to pee they would go in their dresses. Sometimes they would give each other golden showers through their panties, which they both enjoyed. So their dresses were stained all over. Sometimes they would pee on each other while being spanked with their skirts up.
They met up with their friends at Applejack's backyard.
"Welcome back... Good heavens, have you washed since the wedding?" Rarity asked.
"Not once," said Rainbow proudly.
"Or changed out of these dresses," said Fluttershy with a cute smile.
Rarity sniffed them and recoiled. They smelled strongly of urine and body odor. "I... hope you had a fun honeymoon."
"You bet we did," said Rainbow. Fluttershy nodded.
"But right now you really need a bath."
Fluttershy sniffed her armpit. "Yes, we do. We really stink."
"How would you like to take a bath in our wooden tubs here?" Applejack asked.
"Sure, that'll be fun," said Rainbow.
"We can stay in our wedding dresses, right?" Fluttershy asked.
"I don't see why not," said Rarity.
Applejack filled two wooden tubs with warm, soapy water. While they waited, Rainbow and Fluttershy wet themselves one more time. Still in their dirty, smelly, pee-soaked dresses, Rainbow Dash climbed into one tub, and Fluttershy climbed into the other. Applejack and Rarity poured a bucket of water over Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy, respectively, and then lathered their hair with shampoo. Once their hair was covered in suds, Applejack scrubbed Rainbow Dash hard with soap while Rarity scrubbed Fluttershy more gently. Both Rainbow and Fluttershy enjoyed taking a bath like this. Rainbow farted in the tub at one point, which made Pinkie giggle.
Then, Rainbow and Fluttershy positioned their butts in the air and Applejack and Rarity scrubbed them. Rainbow and Fluttershy didn't really mind anyone other than each other doing this, not even when they lifted their skirts and washed their dirty underwear, but of course they found it most fun with each other.
Finally, Rainbow and Fluttershy were mostly clean, though their dresses still had pee stains on them. They went home and changed into their sports outfits again, which hadn't been washed since the last time they had wet them so, while dry, their shorts smelled of pee. Not that it mattered. As they headed to Pinkie's house for a welcome back party, after rubbing their butts together, Rainbow and Fluttershy knew they would go into their sleeping bags wet tonight!
Chapter 3: Swimsuits Are Meant to Get Wet Anyway
Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash were relaxing on the beach. Rainbow was wearing her swimsuit, pink swim shorts and a rainbow sports bra. Fluttershy was wearing her wetsuit, and her sports outfit underneath.
Rainbow Dash had gotten five slushies. On seeing this, Fluttershy immediately ran over to the slushie shop. Not only was she hot from wearing a wetsuit on the beach, but she knew five slushies would make her really have to pee.
"Five slushies, please," said Fluttershy, and named off five of the flavors listed.
As Fluttershy was paying for them, the cashier said "If you end up peeing your wetsuit, it's no big deal, people do it all the time."
Fluttershy giggled. "I probably will." She returned to Rainbow Dash and drank her slushies as fast as she could. She then sat on the beach in a relaxed position with her knees up.
It wasn't long before she needed to pee. She didn't even fidget this time, just maintained her current sitting position. She waited until it became too intense to call it "relaxed", and then she just let it all out where she sat.
Rainbow could hear a loud hissing noise emanating from Fluttershy. The wetsuit was containing her pee so she couldn't see any wetness or pee pouring out. As fun as it was to watch Fluttershy's shorts or underwear darken with her pee, in its own way it was just as fun to know Fluttershy was peeing but not see any wetness. Especially when she could hear it, it sounded like Fluttershy's stream could rival her own.
Fluttershy sighed of relief and pleasure. The warm wetness spreading through her wetsuit felt wonderful, as well as the sense of relief, and she just felt so relaxed. It was so convenient to not have to rush to the bathroom anymore; unless she was on a carpet, couch, or seat she really didn't want to pee on, she could just go in whatever she was wearing right where she was. Her shorts were soaked underneath her wetsuit.
After two minutes...
"You're STILL peeing?" Rainbow asked. She of course needed to go pretty badly at this point, and it was harder to hold it hearing Fluttershy peeing and sighing.
Fluttershy giggled. "You're really going to soak your swim shorts since you drank as much as I did."
After a total of three minutes and seven seconds, Fluttershy stopped peeing. "Ah, that's better," she said. She wiggled her butt around and let out a loud, sputtering wet fart.
"Excuse you, Fluttershy," said Rainbow with a smile. She then started peeing her swim shorts. It wasn't long before they were flooded and pee flowed down her legs in torrents. The warm release felt amazing, and she liked how wet her shorts and legs were getting. "I'm peeing like a race horse." She chuckled.
"We are such wet, naughty girls," said Fluttershy.
"You can say that again." About a minute and a half into peeing, Rainbow sat down next to Fluttershy. Her legs were already glistening with her pee and now her butt was getting wet, as was the sand around her. Rainbow enjoyed every second of this. Anyone who walked by after she was done peeing would think she had just walked waist deep into water. Not that she minded if they knew the truth.
Rainbow peed for three minutes and nine seconds, and sat there in her wet swim shorts. "We should have a contest to see who can pee the longest," she said. "In our shorts, of course."
"That sounds fun," said Fluttershy. She soaked in her own pee for an hour, and peed again before standing up. When she did, pee ran out of the leg holes of her wetsuit and soaked the sand where she stood.
"Wow, that's a lot of pee," said Rainbow.
Fluttershy giggled.
Rainbow lifted her leg, farted, and she and Fluttershy walked on the beach for a bit before going to Rainbow's house, where Fluttershy removed her wetsuit, Rainbow changed into her sports outfit, and they had some more fun. Fluttershy stayed in her wet shorts, for she knew she was going to pee in them a lot more today!
THE END... for now
Yes, I haven't thought of any new scenarios for the Sunset one aside from her becoming potty untrained. |
Been meaning to write some more Dota fiction for a while. Mainly being inspired by my own desperation in the middle of a game. I mean, if I have to pee, surely some of the heroes will as well -- and they don't have the luxury of running to the bathroom.
-------------------------------------------------
Wei vanished into thin air, her form disappearing in a puff of blue particles. She rematerialized up a cliff, away from danger.
"Dammit," she cursed. Her team had just been denied another push into the enemy base, her team retreating to safety. Wei looked at the clock. An hour into the game, and her team was still unable to push onto the enemy high ground, despite their significant advantage. The Sniper on the enemy team was making it very difficult to make any progress, and they were stuck in a stalemate. Wei was frustrated, obviously because she wanted to win the game, but there was another reason she wished the game could end quickly.
"My bladder is killing me," she moaned to herself, hunching over as she felt another pulse of desperation. The fight over, she returned to farming, angrily slashing at creeps to collect gold. Her already aching bladder pulsed with every swipe of her blades.
Early on in the game, Wei had struggled against the enemy legion commander in lane. She took heavy damage on several occasions, barely managing to stay alive. To get her health back quickly, she ended up downing three healing salves over the first 15 minutes of the game. They brought her health back quickly and allowed her to still have a good game. But now in the late stages of the game, Wei was feeling the salves' other effects.
Every female hero knew healing salves were a potent diuretic. It was a much bigger problem for them than the male heroes, who often could do their business in the jungle without missing a beat. Juggernaut had even (impressively) learned to take a piss while rapidly spinning during Blade Fury.
The female heroes didn't have that same luxury. Squatting in the jungle made you vulnerable, unable to react to a planned ambush or even just an unlucky encounter with an enemy. At best that meant losing time and gold, at worst it could mean a major shift in the balance of the game.
Every heroine had her way of dealing with the urge. A few of the . . . bolder ones would simply pee right in the safety of base. Some would risk it and try to find a hidden spot to empty her bladder. But Wei could never forget the time she ended a long, drawn out stalemate by catching Drow Ranger on the enemy team with her pants down, bow in the dirt, and a strong stream of pee coming from underneath her. And she didn't want to expose herself to her entire team either.
*What would the Anti-Mage think?* she pondered. Years of training and mediation under his mentorship had sharpened her body and mind, and nothing would distract her from the war at hand. "My blades are an extension of my hands. My hands are an extension of my -- fuckk I have to pee."
Perhaps Wei overestimated her abilities. If you would have asked her, she never had any trouble holding it. But often times the end of a match meant an urgent rush to a toilet for Wei. A wet spot on her crotch was not uncommon either. In the last fight, Wei was so distracted by her bladder, she failed to even land her ult properly. Not that she would admit that.
"I just have to . . . focus," she grunted, continuing to ignore her bladder. Just at that moment, a spurt of pee dampened the crotch of her tight outfight.
Wei gritted her teeth and ignored it. Her powerful thighs trembled as she tried to hold it. She lost another spurt.
"Shit," she cursed. A drop of pee ran down her leg. Wei stumbled further into the jungle as she lost another spurt. She desperately teleported into a patch of trees.
Before she could even think, Wei's bladder gave in. Rivulets pee began to soak through her suit, flowing down her muscular legs and onto the ground.
"Oh, fuck," she moaned as she continued to piss. She was in so much shock she just stood there, thighs pressed together as she wet her skin tight leggings. She gave up trying to control the stream, as the pleasure overwhelmed her. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes as the powerful, disciplined warrior gave in to her bladder. Wei's puddle grew underneath her, soaking her feet and the earth underneath her.
Her stream finally died down as Wei blinked back to reality.
"Fuck," she groaned, still a little shocked at what she had just done.
Embarrassed, she shuffled out from behind the trees, grateful that none of her teammates (or worse, the enemy) were nearby. She started to collect her thoughts.
"This is embarrassing," she muttered, "but god, did I need that." She felt free and light, no longer burdened by a nagging bladder. A sense of calm came over her. She was now free to focus her full attention on the enemy, no longer fighting her own body. They still had a good shot at winning this.
"The Anti-Mage taught me to be practical, and to win at all costs." Wei reflected. Was keeping her panties dry really worth hurting her chances at winning the battle of the ancients?
Wei would have to think about that some more. Though she had no idea how to explain the smell to the rest of her team. |
This story was suggested by @Queso. i hope you like it.
"I'm glad we could out tonight,sweetie." The Girlfriend said to her Boyfriend,who simply nodded and smiled. The two lovebirds were making their way through the city for their date. These two had been dating for a few weeks now and things were going pretty well.
"You wouldn't believe how obnoxious the past few weeks have been. My dad was REALLY against us going out again. i keep telling him; I'm an adult. i can choose a boyfriend on my own..." Girlfriend ranted. Boyfriend scratched his cheek and smiled nervously. he grabbed girlfriends hand and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
"Aww...you're so sweet." Girlfriend said with a blush. "So....where are we going?"
The Boyfriend pulled out his phone and showed his girlfriend the Restaurant that was close by.
"Oh! That looks like a nice place! Alright! Let's go!" Girlfriend said. Boyfriend giggled and the couple soon started making their way to the restaurant. Girlfriend smiled. finally,some alone time with her lovely boyfriend. Without anyone bothering the two.
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The couple arrived at the restaurant and sat down on a table.
"So...what will you be ordering sweetie?" Girlfriend asked. Boyfriend looked at the menu and pointed at the Pepperoni pizza.
"Ah. Pizza...Alright,i'll be taking the olive pizza and a cup of Dr. Pepper then..." Girlfriend said.
One of the waiters approached the table and took their orders. after a few minutes of waiting,their food arrived and the couple began to eat. Girlfriend took a sip from her cup as the Boyfriend told her about what he's been up to these past few weeks. Apparently,he's been practicing his rapping skills and has even come up with a few new songs. The Girlfriend ordered another cup of Dr. Pepper and asked her Boyfriend if she could hear one of the songs. The boyfriend happily obliged and started singing. The rest of the restaurant heard the singing and gathered around the table to see what was going on. Despite the fact that the only things coming out of his mouth were "Beeps" and "Boops",Both the Girlfriend and the crowd seemed to be enjoying the song. When the boyfriend was finished,the rest of the restaurant cheered him on and went back to their seats. Girlfriend finished drinking her Dr pepper and put her cup down.
"Wow...that was beautiful. You really are a wonderful singer...." Girlfriend said as she winked to her boyfriend. Boyfriend sat back down and ate the remaining pizza slices he had. While she was waiting for her boyfriend to finish,the Girlfriend began feeling the need to pee.
"Man,those soda's go through you really quickly..." Girlfriend thought. But that was no problem. they were in a restaurant. There's always a restroom in those.
"Hey babe? Excuse me for a minute. I need to use the restroom." Girlfriend got up from the table and went towards one of the employees to ask where the bathrooms were. The employee pointed to her left and the girlfriend thanked him. As girlfriend approached the restroom, her eyes widened. there was quite a line in front of the ladies room. They were all displaying various levels of desperation. a few were just standing still,some were shifting their weight and others had their hands between their legs. Girlfriend looked at the table were boyfriend was and saw that he was almost done with his pizza. Not wanting to keep him waiting,the Girlfriend decided to hold it in for now until they could find somewhere else to pee. Girlfriend returned to the table right as Boyfriend finished swallowing the last bit of pizza. He looked at his Girlfriend and smiled. Girlfriend smiled back and the two soon left the restaurant.
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Unfortunately,the walk wasn't as pleasant as she was hoping. granted,that wasn't her boyfriend's fault. He had done a good job keeping her entertained with his stories while the two were walking. The problem was,the pressure in her bladder was getting stronger and stronger. She was starting to wonder if all those girls in the line had drunk the same Dr. Pepper she had drunk. Now the pressure was starting to become impossible to ignore.
"Hey,babe?" Boyfriend looked at her.
"Can we look for a bathroom?" Boyfriend looked confused and pointed in the direction they came from.
"Yeah,i uh..forgot to tell you. there was a line back there..i couldn't go." Boyfriend raised his eyebrows and nodded. he motioned her to follow him.
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The couple soon started looking for a restroom for the girlfriend. Boyfriend pointed to a store and the girlfriend decided to check it out. They entered the store and looked left and right.
"There's doesn't seem to be a bathroom here,babe..." girlfriend said. The boyfriend approached the person at the counter and started talking to him. Girlfriend crossed her legs and waited for him to return. The boyfriend came back with a worried look on his face.
"The bathroom they have here is for employees only? *sigh* figures...." girlfriend said. "Well..let's go look somewhere else..." The two exited the shop and continued looking.
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The boyfriend stopped walking and looked around again. The girlfriend was standing behind him with her legs crossed. She brushed her hair and looked around with her boyfriend. So far they haven't had any luck finding a bathroom and girlfriend was starting to get very desperate now.
"Babe...i don't think i can hold it for much longer..." Girlfriend briefly placed her hands between her legs. Boyfriend behind him and pointed to one of the buildings.
"We already checked there...." Boyfriend quickly pointed to the side of the building.
"You're...saying i should just..do it in an alley?" Boyfriend nodded. Girlfriend thought about it for a second. With how full her bladder was,she wasn't sure she could hold it until the date was over. She reluctantly agreed and followed her boyfriend to the alley.
"Just..stay there until i'm done,okay?" Boyfriend nodded and stood at the entrance of the alley. Girlfriend went further into the alley looking for a spot she could hide behind. She looked around and just as she was about to hike up her dress....
"HEY!!!!!"
Girlfriend yelped and let go of her skirt. She could the pressure in her bladder getting stronger so she quickly jammed her hands between her legs to stop herself from losing control. The boyfriend ran up to the girlfriend to check on her.
"Who's there?" The voice yelled. Girlfriend could hear footsteps getting louder and louder until a man with a bomb for a face came out of the shadows.
"Oh...it's you two..."
Girlfriend crossed her arms and looked at boyfriend,who was looking at the man with anger.
"What are you two doing here?"
"Oh nothing..i just....wanted to take a stroll here with my BF..." Girlfriend said with a nervous smile.
"Riiiiiight...well can you two leave? i don't want anyone knowing i'm here...."
Boyfriend was about to protest,but Girlfriend quickly shut him up.
"Y-Yeah...of course...sorry to bother you..." Girlfriend said as she pushed her boyfriend out of the alley.
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The couple were now walking around in a park. Boyfriend was still looking around while Girlfriend was lagging behind him with her hands between her legs.
"Eeep!"
Boyfriend turned around and looked at her....
"Babe...i need a restroom,now!" Girlfriend said. She could feel a wet patch in her panties. Boyfriend looked around and saw another building. he pointed towards it and looked at his girlfriend.
"Ahh..please let there be one there! i can't hold it anymore!" Girlfriend whined.
The two speed walked towards the building and after about a minute,they arrived at the entrance. they entered the building and saw a girl up ahead talking on her phone. She was wearing a nun dress. She put her phone away and approached the couple.
"Greetings,sorry for the inconvenience. You may call me sarv...Are you two interested in joining the church?" She asked. Girlfriend sweated and replied...
"No,sorry...Me and My boyfriend are just looking for a bathroom" Girlfriend said while hopping from one foot to another.
"Oh come on! You two should join. It's a pretty good place. here,let me show you why..."
"No,i'm sorry. But do you guys have a bathroom here? i REALLY need to go!" Girlfriend said.
"*Sigh*...it's always the same. people only come here to make fun of us or to use the restroom...." The nun looked at the two.
"Fine....I'll let you use the restroom. on one condition. You have to sing along with me!"
"What? But i really need to go!" Girlfriend said as she started doing a potty dance.
"Sorry...but you have to do it if you wish to relieve yourself here." Girlfriend looked at her boyfriend. Boyfriend nodded and girlfriend sighed.
"If this is the only way...." Girlfriend sad down and crossed her legs while keeping her hands on her bladder.
"C'mon,babe. You can do it..." Girlfriend whispered.
The nun grabbed stepped back and started singing. Her started twirling around while letting out a noise that sounded slightly like a pipe organ. She approached the boyfriend and sang about how great the the church was and how blessed she was that she was allowed to work there. She then approached girlfriend and started singing to her while trying to tell her that she would make for a great nun. But girlfriend wasn't really listening. all she could think about right now is her need to pee. Boyfriend approached the girl and started singing back to her. Like the rap battle at the restaurant,his voice sounded like beeps and boops. And yet the Nun seemed surprised. Those beeps and boops still sounded pretty good. Girlfriend stared at her boyfriend with a smile,she never got tired of hearing her lovely Boyfriend sing these wonderful songs. it almost made her forget about her need to go...
Until she felt another spurt escape from her bladder. She crossed her legs tighter and groaned. Boyfriend stepped back and started urging the nun to let the girlfriend use the restroom. But the nun continued to singing about how great the church was,much to the girlfriends frustration.
"C'mon. i'm at my limit...girlfriend said as she kept shifting in her seat. The boyfriend then sang back to her. he let out a couple of small beeps before letting out a long boooooooooooop....
This seemed to catch the nun of guard. The nun then sang another line,but Boyfriend responded with another beep. She sung again and boyfriend responded with another beep. The two kept doing this back and forth all while Girlfriend was struggling to hold in her pee. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. That's when she felt another spurt escape from her bladder. The girlfriend let out a moan,wich caught the boyfriends attention. The boyfriend then looked at nun and let out another long boop,before finishing it with a "Bop beep skdoo!" The nun remained silent for a bit.
"Well...i'm impressed. You have a very good singing voice. are you sure you don't want to join the church? You'd make for a-" Boyfriend interrupted the nun and then pointed at the girlfriend who was now potty dancing.
"*Sigh* Very well...You may use our restroom. It's over here..." The nun said,motioning girlfriend the girlfriend to follow her. The girlfriend waddled right behind her with both her hands between her legs. the two arrived at a door and the nun opened it. Girlfriend stood still for a second before running into the restroom. She entered the closest stall and closed the door without locking it. She hastily lifted her dress and pulled down her wet red panties. She turned around and sat on the toilet. She couldn't hold it in any longer and let out a powerful stream of urine. Girlfriend started panting as she finally lost all control of her bladder. A feeling of relief went through her body,causing her to lower her shoulder and let out a loud sigh. she closed her eyes and her mouth hung open as she listened to the sound of her pee making contact with the toilet bowl.
"Finally.....i feel so much better...." Girlfriend said with bliss. She let out another sigh as she continued to empty her bladder. half a minute had passed and her stream was getting weaker. Girlfriend leaned forward and reached for the toilet paper. But then released something. She looked down and the patch on her panties was bigger than she thought. She sighed and pulled her hand back. looks like she was gonna have to deal with having wet panties until she could get home. She pulled up her panties and shivered a little. she then flushed the toilet and exited the stall to go wash her hands.
Meanwhile,her Boyfriend was outside of the restroom waiting for her to finish.
"Once again....you have a great singing voice and that girl looks pretty beautiful. are you sure you two don't wish to join? it's greater than it looks!" the nun said. Boyfriend simply shook his head. Right then,Girlfriend exited the restrooms with a much more relaxed expression on her face.
"Thanks for letting me use your restroom. I barely made it..." Girlfriend said. She then grabbed her boyfriends hand and left the church. The nun just crossed her arms and pouted.
Moments later,the couple were away from the church. The girlfriend looked at her boyfriend and packed him on the cheek. The boyfriend felt his cheek and blushed.
"I love you so much...." Girlfriend said with a smile.
"Beep Boop..." The boyfriend replied with a smile. He warped his arms around her and their faces slowly inched closer to each other until their lips touched.... |
This is a story written long long ago, at a time far, far away... a continuation the "Classics" series where I go back ~20 years or so and repost some of the "classics" from sites no longer with us, such as Thomas' Water Resources, etc... The stories are often attached in plaintext/markdown format if that would be helpful to anyone. If anyone has requests, please let me know. Female desperation, wetting, accidents are my thing so all stories will likely be along such lines.
If you'd like to see the entire collection: https://www.omorashi.org/tags/classics/
This week's choice reading is brought to us thanks to Jay-Gee. The conclusion of last weeks' cliffhanger about Patience's new boyfriend. Use the link above to find parts 1, 2, 3 & 4 if you missed them. This was originally posted on Shara and Ger's Female Desperation site.
Patience and Prudence: My New Boyfriend (5 of 5)
by Jay-Gee
editing and formatting by MrMakeHerWait
Note: This story contains Female Desperation, Accidental Wetting, Exhibitionism, and Sex.
So there I was, my jeans drenched and tears flooding down my face - it was like being submerged under water. It was a well-lit street, and though nobody actually stared, people could easily see that I was standing in a puddle of my own urine. I had never felt so humiliated and so totally isolated in my whole life. Then Paul put his arm round me and said: "Come on, Peach love, let's get you home." It was so wonderful to feel that he wasn't disgusted with me that I just cried all the more. Paul wisely recognized that there was nothing he could say that would make things any better, just shepherded me silently back to his flat.
When we got there, he led me straight into the bathroom. I pulled off all my clothes and threw them on the floor; Paul picked them up and went to put them in the washing machine, while I got into the shower and tried to scrub every last trace of my shame from my body.
I was just getting out of the shower when Sally came into the bathroom, carrying some of her clothes, which she was lending me till mine were washed and dried. She obviously realized what had happened, for she put her arm round me and said:
"Don't worry about it, Paish. It happens to most of us one time or another. I remember a few years ago my then boyfriend was going to take me to the seaside in his car. It was only supposed to be an hour's journey so I didn't bother going to the loo before we left. Of course we'd only been gone a few minutes when I started needing to go but I didn't say anything because I thought I could hang on. Then we got stuck in the most horrendous traffic jam. After about an hour I was in agony, but we were in the middle lane, and there was no cover in sight, so I just tried to hold it. Eventually I couldn't, and it flooded out all over my boyfriend's car."
I was quite touched by Sally's confession and the way everybody was being so kind. Then she added: "Of course that was the last time we ever went out together."
Thank-you Sally, I thought. She had revived my fear that Paul might be disgusted by my accident. But when I dressed in Sally's clothes and went to join Paul, he was wonderful. We talked about books, music, travel, everything and anything to take my mind off my mishap. I was starting to feel better but I was still very anxious. I went to the toilet twice more before we went to bed, and each time as I sat there I began to wonder if I was turning into Prudence. But I was also worried that I might be losing control - what if I wet Paul's bed?
When we got into bed Paul didn't immediately reach out to touch me as he usually did. I was in such a state that I started to sob again. "Don't you want me any more?" I asked plaintively. Paul held me tight and replied: "Of course I want you - you know how much I love you. And it's no secret I get excited when you show what a big strong bladder you've got. And it's really sexy to watch you crossing your legs and dancing about. But I could never, ever take pleasure in you being in pain, or in you being embarrassed and humiliated."
Then we did make love, but it wasn't very good; I could feel that Paul's mixed emotions were somehow holding him back.
Slowly things returned to normal, or almost. The next time we went to the pub, I drank two halves, instead of my usual pints - and I went to the Ladies' before we left. Paul was too sensitive to make any comment, but I had the sense that he was mildly disappointed, and that disappointment seemed to be reflected in the rather half-hearted sex we were having.
A couple of weeks later we decided to go for a long country walk one Sunday. We took the tube to the far side of London, and then set off through some woodland in the summer sunshine. We stopped at a pub for a late lunch, and I had a couple of halves of lager. I didn't go for a pee although I hadn't been since when I got up that morning.
We carried on walking across open meadowland. So it was no surprise when, after about half an hour I felt a distinct need for the toilet. There was no cover around, and quite a few other walkers, so there was no question of just squatting down, as I would have done quite happily if we had still been in the woods. Normally, this would have been no problem; I would just have held on till an opportunity presented itself. But very quickly I found myself getting desperate - very desperate. Lager does tend to run through me like this, and I usually just clench my sphincter and carry on. But now I was starting to panic. Suppose I wet myself again. Late at night was bad enough, but out here in broad daylight would be far worse. We passed two very respectable-looking middle-aged ladies walking the other way, and I just imagined their look of contempt if I had had a big wet patch on my jeans.
Panic in my brain and pain in my gut. My heart started to pound and I was on the verge of tears. I explained the situation to Paul and, as ever, he was wonderful. Although we had a route planned out, he led me off the main path, promising me it would only be ten minutes and urging me to hold tight. Eventually we reached an area that was pretty deserted. There was an old stone wall which seemed to be a remnant of an abandoned farm, and I skipped off to squat behind it. I tore down my jeans and underwear and prepared for a torrent. To my surprise I just did a squirt that lasted a few seconds, and then stopped. How had such a small quantity caused such agony? Obviously it was anxiety and memory of my mishap that had caused me to feel so desperate.
We carried on walking for some hours, and gradually, as I took pleasure in Paul's company, I began to forget my worries. I was starting to need to pee again but it wasn't unbearable and didn't seem to justify another open-air squat.
Then Paul took me to a delightful restaurant, one his favorites, for dinner. I went to the Ladies' as soon as we got there, and this time I did a real gusher - it seemed as if it would never stop. When I emerged from the cubicle the young woman waiting outside must have been listening, for she said: "You must have really needed that. That's the trouble with the countryside, nowhere to wee." And she hurried in to do her own fountain.
We had a delicious dinner; walking had given me a real appetite. I had a couple of glasses of wine and a cup of coffee, nothing that seemed to justify a second visit to the Ladies'. We had to get a bus to take us back to the tube station, and by the time we had stood waiting for one, and then travelled about three-quarters of an hour over bumpy roads, I was feeling the familiar discomfort in my lower body. But when we got to the tube station, there were no conveniences there.
So I got on the tube, prepared for an hour and a half of discomfort. But after about twenty minutes the need was getting rapidly more acute, and I was seriously wondering if I could hold it for the rest of the journey. Again panic was setting in. A couple of young lovers were sitting just opposite us. How would they react if I proceeded to do a huge puddle on the carriage floor? The train was halted for a few minutes. It was nothing serious, but panic really began to take hold. I turned to Paul and explained the situation. Luckily the two lovers were far too engrossed in each other to hear what I was saying. "So I simply can't wait; we're going to have to get off at the next station."
Paul, as always, perfectly understood. It never seemed to have crossed his mind to ask why I hadn't gone before leaving the restaurant. So we got off at the next stop. I knew there were lavatories at this station, as I'd used them before in an emergency. But when we came up the escalator we found that the toilets were already locked up. Why do they shut the toilets in the middle of the evening, when nine out of ten cases of urgency occur in late evening when people have been drinking??
I was about to collapse into tears, but Paul led me out of the station. There was a pub about fifty metres down the road, and he guided me there. But as I went through the front door a rather ferocious barman greeted me. "We're closing," he said. "I just want to powder my nose," I answered. "Toilets are for customer use only," he snapped. "I'll buy a drink when I've been," I promised, but he just responded that they were closed. Catch 22. I told him I was desperate, but he seemed utterly unmoved. I even offered to make a donation to charity, but there was no way that he was going to let me in.
I ran back to Paul, now on the very brink of wetting myself. There was a car park just next to the pub. It was quite busy, with the people leaving the pub and going to get their cars. But Paul led me to the far corner, which was more or less deserted. There was an obviously abandoned car there, and I went behind it for my second outdoor pee of the day while Paul kept a lookout. Just in time. As soon as I had got my jeans and underwear down, a jet of urine gushed out of me. But, like this afternoon, it seemed to last only a few seconds. The relief was tremendous, but again I felt that what I had been suffering from was panic rather than genuine desperation.
We got back on the tube and went home. By the time we got back I needed to go again quite badly. Sally was in the bath, but she let me in, and I entertained her with a real gusher. She probably assumed I had been holding it all day out in the country, and I didn't disillusion her.
I was spending most of time at Paul's now, so I didn't see much of Prue, but I was getting so worried about the situation that I rang her up and arranged to meet for a drink one evening. I told her all my troubles, my accident and now the way I was panicking as soon as I felt the need to pee.
Prue was very sympathetic, having had an accident of her own a few years back. [See Patience and Prudence: an Introduction] And then she said a couple of things, which struck me as being very wise - she really is a wonderful sister.
"Actually Paish," she said, "You and I are very similar. We both like being in control. I hate getting caught short, so I try and plan things so that it doesn't happen. I know you think I'm neurotic, but I'd just call it being sensible. You stay in control by sheer physical will power. You don't let it disrupt your life- you just hold it. It wouldn't do for me, it's far too painful, but you're quite right to do things your way."
Then she said something else which made a really big impression on me. "Do you remember, Paish, when we about nine, and Mum bought us our first bikes? We went down to the park to learn how to ride them. You fell off and scratched your knee, and you were crying. And Mum told you to get back on your bike straightaway. You didn't want to, but Mum said the longer you left it, the more you would think about falling and the more frightened you would be of riding in the future. So despite your protests she made you get back on the bike there and then so that you would get your confidence back. And it worked."
Prue's a wonderful sister and I do love her - almost as much as I love Paul. Before we left the pub we both went to the Ladies'. Because of our different habits- that's something that really doesn't happen very often. So there we were, sitting side by side in adjacent cubicles, pissing away. And again the thought struck me, were we becoming "the two Prudences"? Despite Prue's wise and helpful words, the thought worried me as - for once in complete comfort - I went back to Paul's on the tube.
Things were all right with Paul and I but somehow my accident had left a cloud over the relationship. I was scared of taking risks because I didn't want to be humiliated a second time. But it was that willingness to take risks that had been part of my charm to Paul. He still loved me, but somehow something of the excitement was missing.
We decided to go away for a few days to North Wales. We should be out in the wild countryside, so there would be lots of opportunities for outdoor pissing, and we both thought - though we didn't discuss it explicitly - that that might rekindle the flame. I went to the toilet on rising, at about half past seven. We had a quick breakfast and set off up the motorway. After a couple of hours we stopped at a service station for some coffee, but I was feeling no need for the toilet so I didn't bother going. Everything was going fine as we headed North up the motorway. I saw a sign for a service station ten miles ahead. It would be the last service-station before our turn-off into the Welsh countryside, so I decided I would ask Paul, who was driving, to stop there so I could have a pee, as I was now distinctly in need of one.
I had just formulated this plan in my mind when the traffic slowed suddenly and came to a complete halt. Jams like this were not unusual so I thought nothing of it. We'd been talking about books we had read recently so we just carried on arguing as we waited for the traffic to start moving again. My need to pee was getting more urgent, but I thought of what Prue had said and I was determined not to panic.
When we hadn't moved a single inch in about three-quarters of an hour we began to wonder what was going on. We looked at our surroundings. Beyond the hard shoulder there was a very thin grass verge - perhaps a metre across. And beyond that was a very high wall that obviously surrounded some industrial installation.
We listened to the news on the car radio and eventually heard that there had been a major accident further up the motorway. Happily nobody was injured, but a very large lorry had overturned and was blocking the entire carriageway. Every effort was being made to clear the congestion, but it was feared that it might be three or four hours before traffic would be able to move again.
Three or four hours! Of course traffic was packed solid behind us as well as in front, so clearly there was no way out. We were stuck here. My need to pee was now getting quite acute and I could feel the beginnings of panic coming on, but again I thought of Prue and how she had encouraged me. I was Patience with the iron sphincters, and I would see it through!
A number of men were getting out of their cars and standing with their backs to the traffic, pissing against the wall. Mothers brought out a number of small children of both sexes to relieve themselves. But as ever, we grown women were at a disadvantage. There really was "nowhere to run".
I leaned over and tweaked Paul's member. "Do you need to pee?" I asked. "A bit", he said. I tickled his tummy. He winced and said: "Actually quite a lot." "Well you'd better go," I said. He looked embarrassed. "But how about you?" he asked. "Don't you need to go?" "Sort of", I answered nonchalantly - it was one of the biggest understatements of my life. Litotes, as my very boring classical scholar boyfriend had once told me.
"I feel bad about going when you can't", he said, but I could tell he really needed to. "Go on", I said. "You know women are the stronger sex as far as holding it goes, and I have the champion bladder of North London." Paul seemed convinced by this and got out of the car and stood facing the wall. I could tell by the time he took that had had really needed it. I wondered if it had hurt as much as I was hurting now.
The car in front of us had camping gear strapped to the roof. There were four young people in it, two men and two women. They all got out of the car and proceeded to take down a large plastic sheet from the car roof. I was puzzled; were they going to try and camp on the narrow grass verge? But after a moment it became clear what they were doing. The two men stood on the grass verge, holding the sheet stretched out between them. One of the women, who had been dancing about in obvious discomfort, went between the sheet and the wall, and squatted down, her head still visible, but the rest of her completely concealed from the gaze of anyone who might want to watch. After a couple of minutes she emerged, making quite plain by her gestures that she now felt an awful lot better. The other young woman now took her place.
While this was going on a couple of women had jumped out of other cars and had come up to talk to the young men. It was obvious what favour they were asking for, and it was quickly granted. They stood there tapping their feet while the second camper finished her pee.
News seemed to spread very rapidly down the line of traffic, and within minutes there was a queue of about twenty women. The two young men were obviously getting a certain amount of gratification out of this. Although they were, very chivalrously, staring straight ahead and making no attempt to get a glimpse of what was going on behind the sheet, it was obviously rather exciting for them, and since they were very close to our car, I could see a distinct bulge in the trousers of one of the young men.
"Do you want to go, Peach?" asked Paul. I was very tempted, but by now I had made a resolution that I would hang on until we got to the service station. The pain was awful, but it wasn't actually getting any worse. Maybe I had reached point ten on the scale and there wasn't any worse for it to get.
So I waited. We talked, listened to news on the radio and to CDs, anything to pass the time. After three and a half hours the traffic started to move again. But there were huge notices up telling us that there was a major diversion and that we must leave the motorway at the next exit - that was before the service station!
It took quite a long time for us to get off the motorway, because of the huge quantity of traffic to clear, and to find our way onto the road we were supposed to be taking. At last we were on the open road, but there was still a couple of hours' drive ahead of us. We were in open country, and Paul asked very considerately if I wanted to stop for a roadside pee, but I declined the offer. I had now made the decision that I was going to take the challenge. I would wait till we got to out hotel.
The pain in my gut was so intense that it created a sense of unreality. I felt as though I were in some sort of a trance. I just couldn't remember a time when I didn't want to go to the toilet - it was as though I had been desperate for the toilet all my life, as though it was just part of my being, like breathing or eyesight. I wasn't talking much, as all my concentration was going on staying dry. Paul knew, of course, that I needed to go, but I don't think he had any idea of how bad it was. He was concentrating on finding the way - I couldn't have borne for him to get lost.
At last, at last, we got to the hotel. When I climbed out of the car I was not only stiff, I was also more desperate than ever. As we stood at the reception I was bouncing from one foot to the other in sheer bloody agony. But the young lady at reception didn't seem very impressed. Doubtless, since the hotel was quite remote and most people would arrive after a long drive, she was used to seeing desperate guests. And since she seemed to be on her own in reception, she probably had to wait when she needed the toilet on duty, so she probably thought we might as well be left to wait too. I glanced at my watch. It was just coming up to half past seven. It was a full twelve hours since my last visit to the toilet.
Eventually we were checked in and got our room key. We had to walk up two flights of stairs. Paul carried all the baggage - I should have wet myself there and then if I'd had to pick up a suitcase.
We got to our room, which, thankfully, had an en suite bathroom. "Right", I said to Paul, "now I'm going to have a piss." And, on impulse, I added, "Do you want to watch? It should be quite a display." I'd never made this offer to Paul before, but he had been so good and kind and considerate, and I really wanted to reward him. He looked a bit taken aback, but he clearly wasn't going to miss out on the offer, and rather shyly he nodded. As I skipped into the bathroom he followed me and unobtrusively stood at the door.
Getting your jeans and underwear off while standing on one foot with your legs crossed, and one hand rammed into your crotch is not the easiest of manuevers, but I managed it somehow and within a few seconds I was in that paradise I had been dreaming of throughout the long painful afternoon - I was actually sitting on the toilet.
It took a few moments for my sphincter muscles to unclench - for one awful second I thought I was stuck and that I wouldn't be able to pee. But then the floodgates opened. The water began to pour out - on and on and on it came. Again I seemed to have moved into some sort of timeless existence - I just couldn't remember a time when I had not been pissing. Twelve hours worth of accumulated urine drained into the toilet bowl and floods of glorious relief pulsed through my body. At last the stream came to an end and with a few last drops it was over.
I had forgotten all about Paul, but now I heard his gentle voice from the doorway.
"Seventy-eight seconds", he announced, as though reading sports results. I hadn't realized he was timing me, but that seemed an amazing figure even to me.
We hadn't eaten all day and I was starving hungry, but there was something even more urgent. Quickly we tore off each other's clothes - I didn't even bother to pull up my jeans after I had finished my piss. And on top of the bed covers we made love - fantastic sex, the best ever.
I was back on my bike.
Source:
jaygee10.html from the archive bundled at:
https://www.omorashi.org/topic/60912-end-of-an-era-shara-and-gers-female-desperation-gone-for-good/
patience_prudence_boyfriend_5.md |
As the bell rings to end 4th period -- Calculus Class for a pretty brainiac named Andrea -- it’s time for lunch. Today is Friday -- Pizza Day at West Beverley High -- and just about everyone is looking forward to lunch. Andrea quickly gathers up her books and takes them to her locker. But before heading down to the cafeteria, she has some urgent business to take care of first. As Andrea heads down the hall with deliberate pace, she heads to the girls’ room first. Her friends Brenda, Kelly, and Donna are already there -- checking their hair and make-up at the row of mirrors over the sinks. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, ladies,” Andrea remarks with a smile as she heads quickly to the last stall by the wall -- the stall boarded by the wall on one side -- along a row of 9 other stalls. Almost as if on cue, Brenda, Kelly, and Donna leave the mirrors and head into stalls of their own.
As Andrea turns to bolt the stall door shut, however, she happens to notice that both rolls of toilet paper in there have already been exhausted. That, of course, forces the senior beauty to choose another stall -- the one right next to Kelly. Andrea is not pleased with that. Under the circumstances, she had hoped to have a kind of “buffer zone” between her and her friends. But the necessity of toilet paper -- especially under these circumstances -- has obviously dictated otherwise. The four girls are now in stalls all in a row.
Brenda is in the first stall of the group -- 3 stalls away from Andrea. She, after bolting the stall door shut, double checks it to make sure it’s locked securely. Privacy on the toilet is very important to her -- even when it’s only to pee. Cleanliness is also a big issue for Brenda. As is her usual practice, she meticulously lines the toilet seat with toilet paper before sitting down. She takes 3 pieces of double thickness -- placing one strip on the left side of the toilet seat, another strip on the right side, and finally, the last strip across the back of the toilet seat. It’s only then that she even goes about unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans and pulling them and her panties down. Pulling them both down to knee level, she finally does sit down and slowly begins to pee. Brenda really hates having to use the school girls’ rooms even when it’s only to pee.
Donna is in the stall next to her. She’s considerably less prissy about her toilet matters. Obviously, she’d prefer the cleanliness and privacy of her own bathroom at home, but going at school isn’t really a big issue, either. I mean, it kind of is when she has to go #2 away from home but peeing at school isn’t really big deal for her at all. And, especially today -- apparently drinking a good bit of water after gym class earlier -- she has to go with considerable urgency. Donna -- after just quickly sliding the bolt on the stall door shut -- makes a quick check to make sure the toilet seat looks clean, unceremoniously yanks down her pants and panties and just plops her butt down on the toilet seat. Instantly, she’s peeing a forceful stream.
Kelly, in the next stall between Donna and Andrea, nervously fidgets with the bolt as she locks the stall door. Privacy is of particular concern to her in the girls’ room today. She generally doesn’t think that much about peeing at school -- she does like her privacy but she basically just does it at school when she needs to and really doesn’t make a big deal about it. She simply accepts that peeing at school is something she has to do every day and sometimes even twice a day. But today, Kelly is dealing with a need to go the other way as well. That’s something that she mostly handles in the morning at home before coming to school and therefore rarely has to deal with it at school. But today is apparently a different story. Try as she might, the pretty blonde simply could not move her bowels at home this morning. Her bowels apparently waited until 4th period -- when Kelly was in French Class -- to make their needs felt. And while Kelly certainly has had bowel movements at school before, it is something she truly dreads -- especially when the girls’ room is busy like this. Kelly checks the toilet paper supply and, as she usually does, does a quick wipedown of the toilet seat. With a nervous sigh -- and a feeling of dread -- she then takes down her pants and her fancy Victoria’s Secret pink panties and sits her pretty butt down on the toilet seat.
Now in a stall with a healthy supply of toilet paper -- the lack of a “buffer zone” notwithstanding -- Andrea goes about her business. She’s dealing with issues of urgency herself. She’s been holding it in both ways throughout pretty much all of her Calculus Class 4th period. She’s considerably more accepting of having to go at school than her friends. Sure, like everyone else, she’d prefer her own bathroom at home but even when it comes to bowel movements, Andrea simply accepts that sometimes you have to do it at school. Andrea -- by far, the smartest of the four -- simply accepts that having bowel movements is something that everyone does and that it’s really nothing to be ashamed of. Going at school -- including bowel movements -- is quite a regular practice for her. Nobody was counting, but Andrea probably had done more bowel movements here at West Beverley High than her three friends combined. Still, it was nice to have a “buffer zone” of sorts and not have to do it in a stall right next to another girl -- especially when that girl was a friend of hers. Hence, her desire to use the last stall on the end where there would a wall on one side of her rather than another stall. But apparently, other girls were of the same thinking as that stall was frequently out of toilet paper by lunchtime.
Wasting no time, Andrea quickly pulls down her pants and panties in one big yank and unceremoniously plops her butt down on the toilet seat. Relaxing, she lets herself go and quickly begins to pee. It starts slowly, but it isn’t long before Andrea is peeing a steady stream. It’s at this point -- with the pretty blonde in mid-pee -- that she feels her bowel movement start. Normally, it happens one bodily function at a time but for her today -- apparently with having held in her bowel movement an unusually long time for her -- her bowels don’t wait until she is finished peeing. By the time she is finished peeing, the bowel movement is already mostly out and it only takes a final, gentle push for Andrea to get it to drop into the toilet water below. That comes with a little splash and a bit of a loud fart. The sound -- and, of course, the smell -- makes it pretty obvious that Andrea is doing more than just peeing. “Sorry,” she instinctively mutters to Kelly over in the next stall. She knows, of course, that it’s nothing to be ashamed of in what she’s doing, but I guess it’s simply a matter of being polite.
“That’s okay,” Kelly tells Andrea. “When you gotta go, you gotta go,” she tells her, “I know sometimes you just have no choice but to do it here.” Kelly is, of course, dealing with a similar situation herself. She actually admires Andrea for her ability to simply do what she needs to do regardless of being in a school bathroom with less than ideal conditions of privacy and cleanliness. Kelly, of course, surely realizes that the bathrooms here at West Beverley have to be considered pretty nice as school bathrooms go -- I mean, they’re reasonably clean and well-stocked and have doors on the stalls for privacy -- but still, it’s a public bathroom and it’s not as comfortable as going at home. But Kelly is even self-conscious about how loud her peeing is when she pees in public bathrooms. Having to go the other way in school is something she truly dreads. As Kelly does pee in the girls’ room this afternoon, she sits apprehensively thinking about that other bathroom need. As her typically loud, forceful pee slows to a trickle, she feels her bowel movement starting to force it’s way out. Instinctively, she quickly clamps that shut.
In the next stall, Donna just sits and relaxes as she pees a steady stream. Boy, did she really have to go and it feels good to just be letting it all out here in the toilet. As she feels her pee stream start to slow down, she pushes down on her bladder. As long as she’s here on a girls’ room toilet, she’s going to make sure to empty her bladder completely. The push causes her pee stream to momentarily increase in intensity again. But that only lasts for a few seconds as her bladder is soon fully drained with the pretty blonde’s pee stream slowing first to a trickle and finally to a few last drops. Donna sits for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of relief. In due course, she reaches for the toilet paper to wipe herself dry. Unfortunately, she finds the roll in her stall empty. In her haste to get onto the toilet and pee, Donna forgot to check.
Brenda is, of course, in the stall next to Donna -- the last one in the row occupied by the four friends. Even though the pretty brunette does not have a particularly large bladder, she’s almost always the last of the group to finish on the toilet when they go for a group pee. That is, no doubt, do to her somewhat elaborate ritual of lining the toilet seat with toilet paper before she even starts. As Brenda sits and pees a steady stream, she suddenly hears Donna calling her from the next stall. “Brenda?” she hears. “Um…Brenda? -- Can you hand me some toilet paper, please?” Donna asks her. Brenda, seems a bit annoyed. “Well…You know I’m kind of in the middle of something here, Donna,” Brenda responds. Donna, in turn, is a bit annoyed at Brenda being annoyed. “Alright, you can finish,” Donna tells her, “I’m just saying that when you’re done I could use some toilet paper here, Brenda.” “I’m sorry but I forgot to check,” Donna acknowledges. “Fine,” Brenda tells her, with a sigh of annoyance. “How much do you need?” she asks. “Just a little bit,” Donna tells her friend. “Just #1 not #2,” she explains. Pretty much by the end of the conversation, Brenda has peed her last drops. She folds up a nice wad of toilet paper and passes it to Donna under the stall. “Thanks, Brenda,” Donna tells her friend, “That’s good.” “You’re welcome,” Brenda responds, in a considerably more friendly tone than before. Brenda then goes about wiping herself -- scrunching a good bit of toilet paper and then doing a careful wipe. She then removes the toilet paper from the toilet seat before flushing it all down. Finally, pulls up her panties and pants and exits the stall.
Donna takes the toilet paper from Brenda and carefully wipes herself as well. She pulls up her panties and pants and gets herself all zipped up and put together before she flushes the toilet. That’s an old habit of hers. One time back in junior high, she used a toilet unaware that the prior girl to use it had clogged the toilet by trying to flush down her soiled panties. When Donna then flushed that toilet -- after merely urinating in it -- the water started immediately rising in the bowl and quickly overflowed onto the floor. This caused Donna having to run from the stall with her panties at her knees on her jeans on the floor. Since then, it’s been her practice to get herself all put together before flushing the toilet. On this day, though, her toilet flushes without incident.
In the meantime, Kelly sits nervously in her stall. Her peeing has finished, but she’s now dealing with her need to have a bowel movement. But Kelly is just sitting there on the toilet holding it in. Obviously, she knows that she should just relax her control just let it happen here and now in the toilet. But she feels quite self-conscious about doing that. She knows that Andrea is doing it in the next stall but she’s not Andrea and doing this particular function at school just isn’t easy for her. With the girls’ room crowded as it is -- especially with her friends present -- Kelly just can’t let herself do what she obviously needs to do. She, instead, is just sitting on the toilet holding it in and trying to figure out what to do next. She tries to convince herself that she needs to simply just do it now and be done with it, but that just isn’t as easy as it sounds for her. Kelly reasons with herself that she’s still trying to live down the embarrassment from peeing her pants while working for the school’s Environmental Club several weeks ago. She knows that the shaming and embarrassment will be even worse if she has the other kind of accident in her pants. Still, she just can’t summon up the courage to make herself do the bowel movement here in the school girls’ room -- at least not now.
She hears Kelly and Donna leaving their stalls and she knows -- as the saying goes -- that for her, it’s either shit or get off the pot. Quickly taking a handful of toilet paper, she dabs herself dry and gets off the pot. She flushes and quickly pulls up her panties and pants and joins her friends at the sinks. Brenda makes a crude remark about her taking so long -- something about wondering if it was #2 that was doing in there -- but Kelly just laughs it off. As the three of them go about washing their hands, Brenda happens to notice that Andrea is still in the stall. “Are you almost done, Andrea?” she calls out.
But Andrea is still taking care of business in her stall. She’s finished peeing, of course, but that’s not the only reason she’s on the toilet. And unlike Kelly, she’s smart enough to take care of that now. She’s already done a good bit of the bowel movement in the toilet, as well -- a nice, soft, well-formed “log” that effortlessly started it’s way out while Andrea was still peeing. But Andrea still feels like she’s got more to do and this time her bowels are taking their sweet time to deliver. “Just go ahead to lunch without me,” Andrea answers Brenda, “I’m going to be a little while.”
“Ewww!” Brenda reacts -- a bit childishly -- to that, obviously understanding that Andrea is having a bowel movement here in there. It’s attitudes and comments like that that make Kelly want to hold it in and wait rather than just to go at school when she needs to. It’s about then that Andrea manages to push out a good-sized mass of solid but less formed fecal matter. It’s not diarrhea by any definition -- it is completely solid -- but it’s just not a big “log” as the first part of her bowel movement was. As the three of them finish up at the sinks and head out, Kelly goes over to check on Andrea. “Are you okay in there?” she asks, “Do you need any help?” “I’ll be just another minute or so,” she tells Kelly, “I’ll join you guys at lunch in a few minutes.” With that, Kelly heads to the cafeteria to join her friends. Andrea, of course, now feeling a whole lot better, is left to wipe herself. Her first wipe is quite the messy one. But it does seem quite effective as Andrea’s second wipe comes out with considerably less on the toilet paper. Two more wipes on her behind and one quick wipe to dry her front and Andrea is finished. Pulling up her panties and pants and flushing the toilet, she exits the stall and goes to a sink to wash her hands. A few minutes later, she’s eating lunch in the cafeteria with her friends.
Kelly envies the fact that Andrea now seems comfortable and relaxed while she, herself, is still holding in her own bowel movement. Suffice to say, Kelly doesn’t eat much at lunch.
As lunch ends, the girls go their separate ways -- Andrea to English Class, Brenda to Political Science, Donna to History and Kelly to Chemistry. Kelly is pleasantly surprised that her bowel movement now seems to be in check -- the need to go having subsided considerably. She becomes suddenly confident that she can indeed hold it in until she gets home thus avoiding entirely having to do it here in the girls’ room at West Beverley.
But as the bell rings signifying the end of 6th period and Kelly heads to the girls’ locker room to get ready for her 7th period Gym Class, she’s feeling the need once again. And she’s feeling that feeling of dread as she once again faces the prospect of having to do this bowel movement here at school. And having to do it here in the girls’ locker room -- where the toilets aren’t all that well separated from the locker area where the girls are changing -- is perhaps the worst prospect of all. But as the need to go has only come back stronger, she realizes that holding it in during gym class is really not going to be an option. Thinking quickly, Kelly remembers that there is also a girls’ room in the hallway right outside the gym and -- necessity being what it is -- she manages to convince herself that going there might not be so bad.
Changing quickly into her gym clothes, Kelly heads not to the gym itself but out the backdoor of the locker room and to the girls’ room in the hall instead. She gets there just as the passing time bell between 6th and 7th period rings and a whole lot of girls are exiting the girls’ room. Like an answer to her prayers, Kelly finds she now has the whole girls’ room to herself. Quickly grabbing the first stall she sees, the desperate blonde beauty quickly checks for toilet paper, quickly wipes down the toilet seat and quickly bolts the stall door shut. And then just as quickly, she unceremoniously yanks down her panties and pants and takes a seat. Immediately, a large bowel movement comes thundering out into the toilet. Kelly breathes a sigh of relief. After holding it all in for a good portion of the afternoon, it was all over in a few seconds. Her big bowel movement -- a rather large pile of solid but ill-formed fecal matter -- had now, in one big outpouring, been deposited properly in the toilet. As Kelly sits and enjoys the feeling of relief, she suddenly pees a good bit as well. With her bowel movement urgent as it was, Kelly had not even realized that she had to pee as well. Quickly grabbing for the toilet paper -- not wanting to be late for gym class -- Kelly gets to work wiping herself. It’s a messy bowel movement that takes her six wipes -- and another one to dry herself -- to get herself clean. She quickly bolts from the stall (forgetting to flush the toilet in the process), washes her hands and heads to the gym. She ends up getting yelled at for being late to gym class but, all things considered, Kelly finds it a small price to pay.
In the meantime Donna finishes out her school day -- History, French, and Chemistry -- without incident and heads home.
Checking back with Brenda, the pretty brunette finds herself sitting in Latin Class 8th period with a full bladder once again. She contemplates asking for a pass to go to the girls’ room again, but it being so late in the day she decides to simply hold it in and wait until she gets home. By the end of the period, however, Brenda’s need is quite urgent and she now decides it best to visit the girls’ room and take care of it before heading home. But heading into one of the girls’ rooms on her way out to the parking lot by the gymnasium, Brenda is repulsed by the lack of cleanliness. After a whole day of toilet use by the girls of West Beverly High, the girls’ room is considerably dirtier than what Brenda typically finds at lunchtime. And the prissy senior beauty is doubly repulsed when she sees a large bowel movement sitting unflushed in one of the toilets. She reconsiders again and decides to just wait until she gets home after all.
But Brenda does have to go quite badly and as gets caught in a little traffic on her way home, she finds herself on the verge of an accident. She recalls her recent experience of wetting her pants while serving detention for using a faculty bathroom and how lucky she was to escape being found out by either her parents or any of her friends. She wants to kick herself for putting herself in this position again. And to further complicate matters, she finds herself needing a bowel movement as well. It’s not a particularly urgent need but being forced to also concentrate on holding that in, doesn’t make it any easier for Brenda to stay in control of her bladder.
Fortunately, though, she manages to make it home in time and running upstairs to her own bathroom, she manages to deposit both into the toilet. It’s a strong, forceful pee and a nice solid bowel movement of 2 well-formed “logs” of fecal matter. She feels good to get relief and especially so with it happening on Brenda’s own private toilet. It’s an easy wiping job in that it’s such a nice solid bowel movement and she is, of course, using a much higher quality toilet paper here at home than she has at school.
Andrea, meanwhile, has a meeting of the National Honor Society (of which she is the Vice-President) after school. After Psychics Class 8th period, she pays a visit to the girls’ room before heading to the meeting. This time, though, she only needs to pee. Looking for a suitable stall, she first finds two that are reasonably clean yet completely lacking any toilet paper. She then finds another stall that is well-stocked with toilet paper but where the toilet is clogged with filthy brown water right up to the rim of the bowl. Andrea then rolls herself a nice wad of toilet paper from that stall and heads into one of the clean ones to actually do her business there. It’s a pretty routine pee that Andrea handles without incident and then, of course, wipes herself with the toilet paper. But when Andrea goes to pull that little handle to flush it, nothing happens. She tries it a few times but, for whatever reason, the toilet simply will not flush. Shrugging her shoulders -- there really isn’t much else she can do at this point -- she exits the stall, washes her hands and heads to her meeting. |
Deadlines are the worst - I have this horrible habit of leaving my work to the last minute, and then having to rush through the lot.
Hopefully though - I learned my lesson this time. In fact I'm sitting in a cold puddle of lessons today - let me tell you a bit about it.
So - my name's Jamie, I'm 22, a girl, about five-foot three, probably a bit above average weight, brown hair to my shoulders - nothing too exciting. And I had a deadline due...Exactly 23 minutes ago.
Despite the title above, I didn't miss that deadline. No - the deadline I missed was self imposed.
I thought this assignment was due next month, so I hadn't really been paying attention to it until this afternoon. It was just chance that I noticed it to be honest - I was trying to check the deadline for another assignment - which is due on Friday, if you were curious.
But you know how it is, right - you find that deadline that's due way earlier than expected, you get that hit of sheer absolute panic, and then you blaze through a paper. Well this afternoon I had that hit of panic (to the point I actually made a noise when I saw the date on the assignment) and decided I had to get it done.
And what better fuel for writing an essay than like...eight cups of coffee. Yeah it's not good for me, but neither is failing university. And I'm paying to be at uni, I'm not gonna fail. Even if that does mean I feel like I'm not gonna be sleeping for the rest of this week.
Initially it wasn't anything out the ordinary - I sat down, got my laptop set up...spent about 20 minutes watching some YouTube video about Aldi (No, I don't know what made me think it was a good use of my time), and then set about working.
If anyone else here does history, then you'll know how bad the essays can get - Four-thousand words isn't even that bad compared to other essays I've had - but generally I have more than half a day to write them. Unless I do this.
The first hour was the slowest, as usual. Trying to think of the question, and then trying to come up with a rough plan and find some sources that support my argument. Eventually I decided my essay was going to be about the failures of the League of Nations.
So as you can imagine, I'm panicking, I'm putting down coffee like there's no tomorrow, and by the third paragraph I'm getting up to use the toilet.
At this point I should probably have eased up on the coffee, but hindsight is 20/20. Instead I doubled down, hoping to get a caffeine induced surge of energy. Or a heart attack - that'd probably be reason enough to get an extension.
It's hard to write about this, because...well most of it was just me drinking, writing shit down, and using the toilet - rinse and repeat.
Until about 10pm.
So - Like I said, deadline is today, which means technically the deadline is midnight. Which is two hours away from 10pm.
P A N I C M O D E
I saw the clock and my heart sort of lept - I poured my...sixth? Yeah, sixth coffee out the press. I hadn't bothered to reboil the kettle since the last one, so there was no wait between pouring and drinking half the cup. I didn't think much of it of course - I'd just got back from the toilet too, I wouldn't be needing to head back for at least an hour, right?
Yeah, about that...
It didn't take a whole half-hour for me to feel that coffee on the last stretch of it's journey through me, but I was a solid 700 words away from the word count. And even once I'd hit it, I had to proof read the essay, maybe cut down some words if I went over, make sure I'd got everything down that I wanted to, made sure my citations were correctly typed out...usual excitement.
Important thing is, those things take time - which I had about an hour and thirty-five minutes of. Using the toilet would take...maybe 3 minutes per incident.
And I didn't have 3 minutes to spare every half hour.
I made the decision to hold it and kept on writing.
It wasn't too bad at first. I sat myself cross legged on my computer chair, typing away and bouncing my leg up and down. I'd put on some music to distract me from the mounting pressure down below, and soon I was bouncing my knee in rhythm to the music. The kettle beside me was still warm and mostly full, and the coffee press was looking very tempting.
I'm not sure what was going through my head at the time, but I found myself making another coffee. I think I might have been trying to distract myself from my increasingly full bladder. Spooning the coffee from bag to press was easy enough, a little shaky but I didn't spill any this time. I'm not sure if the shaking was caused by my bladder or the fact I had more caffeine in me than all of Starbucks.
Pouring the water out the kettle though - that wasn't so easy.
The water splashed out the spout and into the press, and the sound alone was like a slap to the face. Water - pouring and filling a container. The pressure from my bladder surged and I nearly dropped the kettle.
I thrust a hand between my legs and managed to hold on, spilling a little water on the table in the process. I suppose I should have seen that as a bad omen - but the deadline was so close now, and I was well behind on my work.
With the press filled I took to writing for another few minutes while the coffee brewed. By now my foot was bouncing non stop, my heel bashing against one of the wheels of the chair every time it came down.
Oh, uh, it dawns on me I should probably tell you a bit more about my appearance...you know, given the nature of this website. That description from before probably isn't the best...
Okay so - err, god I hate describing myself...
Uh...Have you seen that drawing of the guys from Red Letter Media, but they're anime girls? Google it if you haven't - I look exactly like Jay from that drawing, except my eyes are green, and I've got freckles. And smaller breasts.
As for my clothes, this evening I've gone for an ensemble of classy grey trackies (complete with a hole on the left leg from where I poked a hole through them with a pen), and a most excellent shirt depicting the characters from a famous comedy series.
That's it - no shoes, no undies, no socks, no bra. Classic outfit for the student who hasn't left the flat in about four days.
So with those grey trackies in mind...
Another omen was to come to me next as I picked up the coffee press and began pouring. The sound caused my body to tense up in a way I'd not experienced before, a cross between a wince and sudden realization. My bladder sort of screamed at me all the while hot coffee was splashing into my cup, threatening to take matters into it's own hands. I managed to un-freeze myself just in time to stop from overfilling my mug. I flinched as I was doing so though, flicking a single drop of coffee onto my knee.
At this point it was like the universe was warning me. My body had frozen up, my bladder had made it's intentions extremely clear, and I'd even got my trackies wet - and as you know, grey trackies go practically black the moment they get damp.
And dampness soaks through the material...I didn't notice at first because of the heat from the coffee, but as I went to take a sip from the mug I could feel the spot on my knee cooling.
My eyes widened - I want to mention this because I didn't expect them to. At this point, a lot of my reactions weren't really in my control any more. For example, my whole body shivered as I put the cup back on the desk and swallowed.
I...well I knew what it meant.
I don't often hold until I can't, but I've done it before once or twice. It's not really something I do on purpose, but we've all been there.
That shiver...it's like a last minute warning. Like DEFCON 1, but for bladders. (WETCON 1?)
The shiver went over my body slowly, as if being lifted up slowly from my pelvis and dragged through my ribcage and shoulders, finishing at the back of my neck with an unintentional sound of 'uwwaough' out of my mouth. I glanced at the clock on the bottom right of my screen. Ten fourty-five now. I checked my word count.
...It had gone up by about 20 words from the last time I checked...But how?
I'd been writing for a solid ten minutes! How could I have...Argh! Wasn't the biggest problem I had though - the moment my brain displayed a concern for the lack of work done, my bladder very loudly announced that it's problem took priority.
What to do, what to do?
...Really I should have just gone to the toilet.
Instead my I found my hand lifting my cup to my lips, feeling hot coffee pour down my throat, and trying to type with my free hand.
I almost feel like it was just rude to my bladder, really - I knew very well what was going on, and I knew I had to go soon. As in, I didn't have a choice - I was going to pee soon, whether I wanted to or not.
As I put the mug back down, now empty (not unlike the cavity inside my head, where most people would store a brain), I looked down at myself. I almost wasn't expecting the thoughts that I came up with - let me quote them for you, they're great (/s)
I'm almost embarrassed to type this out...
'Would it really be that bad?' I asked myself inside my head. Well - yes, it would be, but by now I think there was so much urine in my body it had probably entered my blood stream and was effecting my decisions.
All I could think about now really was my bladder. It felt full - not as in 'gee I should pee soon' - more a feeling of 'I think my body has reached it's physical capacity for liquid'.
I lifted my shirt and looked down - Have you ever seen yourself bulge before?
It's...weird. It was almost like I'd gotten fat, but very specifically just below my belly button.
Something stupid inside me told me to poke it - FUCK was that a bad idea.
I didn't like, poke it gently either - I was so shaky and struggling to hold on my hand just kinda bounced off of it, shooting pain through my...self.
I kinda...twisted my face up, bowing my whole head forwards and screwing my eyes shut, hissing air through my teeth and clamping my thighs together. What a dumb move that was - if anything was going to make me hyper aware of the pressure - it was punching myself in the bladder.
I managed to control myself, but I knew I'd come as far as I could now. If I didn't get up immediately, I'd be leaking. I looked over to my door. I hadn't got up immediately, and I had a few seconds to realise my mistake. The pressure inside me - which bare in mind was enough that I couldn't stop bouncing my leg for a good fifteen minutes now - was surging. It almost felt like my bladder was rising up through my body, pushing itself upward into my lungs - which in turn pushed back down as I was breathing.
I felt myself break out into a sweat - either panic or just from the sheer amount of liquid in my body - and my breathing was becoming hoarse and shallow. Each breath I drew in was pushing down on my bladder, and my only respite was to breath out - which let my bladder take up more space, only for another breath to press down on it even harder.
I felt the urine inside me begin to move. It was slow and I could feel my muscles fighting to stay shut as best they could, but even still I knew they were fighting a losing fight now.
I...I don't understand what was going through my head - I knew that I should be getting out the seat, I knew I should be bailing and diving to the bathroom - but do you know what my dumb ass did?
Ignored it.
I figured if I focused on my essay, I could ignore it a little longer.
I must have been a mess to look at - I was breathing loudly through my nose, trying to stop myself taking in too much air at once. I was sweaty and gross, even managed to leave a wet patch on my sleeve from wiping my forehead. My legs were going mental beneath my desk, flipping and twisting in all directions like some odd student-pretzel. When my legs weren't flipping out, my toes were clinging onto the metal frame of the table, before my sweaty soles lost grip and my legs resumed their erratic ballet.
I began typing - immediately hitting about 3 keys every time I bought my finger down and typing out some nonsense. I...growled(?) and held my finger down on the backspace - and that was my first leak.
I didn't feel it come out - which was odd, I'd felt it all moving just moments ago. I think. Maybe the pressure was so intense I couldn't feel any other sensation aside from the rapid cooling of the tiny spurt of liquid that had just left my body and found a new home in my trackies.
At this point I think a mix of physical pain and essay-based stress had made me entirely irrational. I say this because...as typing this up, I've noticed the empty smoothie bottle sitting in my bin.
It's a large bottle with a really wide mouth.
That's annoying. Doesn't matter now, I gotta clean up anyway.
Yeah - spoiler warning I guess, but you saw the tags.
I glanced at the clock again - it had gone forward about three minutes since I last checked. The word count hadn't moved however.
I decided I'd reach the nearest hundred words before I could take a toilet break.
My bladder let me type out about three.
My first sensation was my torso going kinda tight and I leant forward toward my screen. I thrust a hand between my legs, clamping my thighs around my hand too. My right hand was now typing out words letter by letter. It was getting hard to read the words I was typing, so I wiped my eyes with my typing hand. Not a great idea to touch something warm and wet when you're this desperate to pee.
Actually I say that, I suppose it's whole point of this website.
Either way - my body felt wetness, and then my ears heard my own throat moan/whimper.
...I never know if I should type out vocalizations. I kinda went 'nuuuraaaah!', but under my breath. As the tears now coating my right hand cooled and my finger resumed typing, I felt myself losing control.
It started off slowly - at first I felt a sudden warmth on my skin beneath my trackies. This warmth seemed to pulsate, coinciding perfectly with my breathing; Every time I drew in a breath, I could feel another tiny surge of heat. I'd managed to dismiss it until I felt something trickling between my buttocks, and something spreading over my left wrist. The one in between my legs.
I didn't look away from the screen though. For some reason I decided to just...carry on working.
By now every breath out was a moan, and every breath in was drawn through teeth...and accompanied by more warmth.
I suppose the overwhelming sensation of pressure had begun to die down, because it wasn't long before what I felt changed.
Initially - I'd been leaking, but...it just kinda felt warm. The only other thing I felt was the pressure from inside. I think that pressure had become so much I couldn't feel anything else - and here's my reason why.
I sat leaking for...maybe 3 minutes?
Each leak was tiny still, but it didn't feel like relief, or like the pressure was going down. It was like something was just spilling over my crotch and I really had to pee. Which I suppose is kinda true.
So it came as a massive surprise to me when this next thing happened. I'd glanced down at myself - my sleeve was damp, my left hand glistened in the light of my essay, and my groin was...soaked. The trackies, as previously mentioned, had turned practically black in a very particular patch, completely surrounding my fist. I withdrew my hand and watched some pale-yellow drips fall off them. I looked back up at the screen and tried to carry on typing.
The leaking hadn't stopped - in fact it had become fairly consistent. I didn't feel any relief, but I could feel a very gentle stream begin to chart a course down my thigh, slowly trickling downwards and pooling inside my trackies. I suppose I'd let enough out for the feeling of pressure to drop though. Every breath drawn in had caused a little bit more urine to escape. I bit down on my sleeve and braced myself.
I felt myself draw in a rapid, harsh breath of air. At the same time, I felt my bladder contract powerfully, and I felt something hot coursing between my thighs. I heard it hissing as my body furiously began to void my bladder.
But I felt relief this time.
It was too much to stop now. I'd been holding so long, my muscles begged for a break, my bladder begged for relief, and my brain begged me to work on the essay.
I don't know if I made the choice to do this, or if it just kinda happened, but as my bladder was squeezing and urine was jetting out of me...I gave up any resistance.
The feedback was immediate.
The fierce hiss quickly slowed to a grateful hiss - less powerful but very much audible. A beautiful warmth shot up my back and culminated around my neck with a sort of pleasant tickle - while another beautiful warmth was coursing down my legs. I knew it'd soak into my chair, knew it'd fuck up my carpet - but right now I just wanted to pee. I really wanted to pee - in fact I was enjoying the fact I was currently peeing so much I sighed and slumped back into my chair, grinning through the tears that streaked down my cheeks. I say I sighed, it was more giggling with glee. My entire body was tingling with the relief of letting go. I relaxed my entire body, letting my arms go limp and hang down to my sides. It took a moment before I could hear splashing - mostly because I was making too many other noises. Urine was pouring from my chair and legs, splattering the carpet below.
I made no effort to try and stop it either. As the pressure had subsided and been replaced by glee, I slowly got my mind back...but I made a very conscious decision to let myself finish wetting my pants. But I still had that essay to do. Once the initial overwhelming glee wore off, I managed to sit myself up in my chair...which made a squishing noise which turned my legs to jelly. I leaned forward a little more, pushing myself into the cushion, and pushing my bladder just a little harder. I hooked my legs under my chair, catching the streams that had been splattering against my feet, and redirecting them to run down the back of my calves.
I wish I could show you the squishing noise the chair was making through text - but there's no way I could do it justice. The wet squelch of the cushioned seat and my sodden trackies as my own piss soaked its way into the very innards of the cushion...I hate how much I enjoyed that bit, cause I think it's ruined my chair. Not that I cared when I was going of course - no, rather I was trying to perfectly position my feet to catch as much urine falling off the chair as possible, letting it soak over my soles, pressing my toes into the carpet for another squish.
Sadly, nothing lasts forever, and despite how I had been feeling barely two minutes ago, that was going to include the fathoms of liquid that were currently spilling onto the carpet.
At least now I had time to recover.. The absolute wave of relief that had knocked me sideways was now subsiding, leaving me just sitting in my chair, casually emptying my bladder as I tried to catch my breath. I felt it would be appropriate for some reason to touch the area, as if it was going to feel anything aside from really warm, damp, and satisfying...and then I squeezed the trackies.
S-still warm urine surged through my fingers as I clenched the fabric, spilling onto the chair. I giggled again - I hadn't fully got my brain back at this point. What I had got however was a pair of very wobbly legs and a warm itching feeling.
I hope you don't need me to spell out what that means for you.
But of course - I still had that essay. And the clock. And two minutes had become three, and my word count still hadn't moved.
Sometimes work has to take priority over pleasure though...but that doesn't mean I couldn't rub my thighs over each other. I didn't do that for long though, I quickly realised I was losing focus on the essay.
Since then...I told myself not to drink another coffee until the first draft was done. With half an hour before midnight (and my trackies becoming icy cold) I'd finished writing - poured myself another coffee, and began proof reading.
At 23:57 I submitted the essay. I had exactly as much time spare as I'd spent wetting myself.
At time of writing it's 00:43. Took me about 20 minutes to type this up. As you ought to remember, I poured myself an extra coffee about an hour ago I finished drinking it about 40 minutes ago.
So it makes sense that my bladder's feeling pretty damn full again.
Chair's already soaked...carpet too. Wouldn't be any harm if I just...
...
...
Oh yeah, that's better. |
Author's notes: This story is written for a friend who unfortunately doesn't have time to write her own stories. Aquraisus, thanks for waiting patiently for me to FINALLY get this thing going.
I haven't seen much of the show, it might be be accurate. Not to be rude towards any hardcore fans, but I really don't about the small details, there's only so much I can learn without having the time to watch it! Anyway, here we go.
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Retsuko stumbled off the elevator, heading to her post to begin another day of accounting. Laptop on her right, metal water bottle on her left. It was early in the mourning and she didn't really make the best decisions last night. What happened was sort of a blur... all she can remember was drinking with Fenneko at a bar, after that she can only recall waking up feeling like crap. Whatever happened, it was either fun, or messy.
Walking down the hallway poor Retsuko tried her best to seem normal. Looking tired early in the mourning was a common sight, but looking delirious though? Not gonna fly in the strict work environment she's in!
Retsuko sighed as she took her seat, with her hands free she took a gulp of her water. Hydration is key to her right now! Letting the bottle hit the table, she took out her laptop and turned it on. Ugh... a whole day of work ahead of her and a headache to make it more difficult than it needs to be. Leaning back in her chair she starred blankly into the screen as it loaded.
In the corner of her eye she saw someone walk into the room. It was Fenneko, the little white fox had some explaining to do. Retsuko was dying to know what the heck happened. In the quietest mourning voice possible, she asked "Hi Fenneko, d-do you know what we did last night?" Fenneko turned towards her coworker and replied with a confident smile-
"Hey Retsuko, I see you already have a water bottle ready, good... I just downed some water too. You have the yen on you right? Because I'm not doing this if you're going to bail out..."
Retsuko could not be MORE CONFUSED. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"The bet we made last night, you don't remember? You where pretty smug when we shook on it
"Huh? Shook on what?!"
"The holding contest? For 5k yen?"
"5 thou- I don't get it..."
"You where really that drunk last night huh? Well I might as well explain real quick before that fat pig comes around..." Fenneko took her seat "Don't worry I'll keep this quick."
We now enter a flashback to last night, here the whole thing will finally make sense. Our 2 main characters are drinking together, absolutely drunk off their minds! Laughing loudly at each-other, Fenneko says "And I said to Tsunoda, a-are you- ugh- do you actually like that tea? Or are you just trying to show off you thighs?!" Retsuko LOST it at that moment. Laughing all over the place she tried to make out some words.
"Was she- was she.... " she froze up for a second "Oh crap! I'm about to piss myself!" Still somehow smiling she got up, hunched over and ran towards the ladies room. With all that pee built up in her she might have leaked a bit in her panties...might... but fortunately for her she did make it in time. Feeling that sweet relief was overwhelming her mind completely! And after some time to get her head straight, she wobbled her way back to her friend.
Jokingly, Fenneko said "Hahahaha, can't hold a drink?
"Ahh yeeeaahh, I can hold it, just didn't want to!"
"Your bladder is pathetic isn't it?"
"No it's not! I'd put money on that!"
"Ok ok ok, uhhhh, how about 5 thousand yen? Tomorrow at work we just drink-and see who can hold their pee longer"
"5 thousand?! Y-you bet I'm in on that!" Retsuko stuck out her paw, and Fenneko shook it.
We now return back to present time. Retsuko buried her face in her paws and leaned back. In a muffled tone she tried to say "Ohhhhohohh, thaaaaat... (sigh) I don't know about this, but... 5 thousand yen does sound nice, and if all I have to do is not pee... uhhh... I guess I'm good at holding it... ok... I suppose we have a bet then,"
Fenneko smiled "Good... I recommend you finish that water so it's fair, I'm no loosing to a cheater."
"With the way the alcohol treated me, no problem." Picking up the bottle, she chugged the rest of the tall container until there wasn't a single drop left. Slamming back down she said "Ah, well that feels better."
"It does for now, just give it some time and you'll be prancing for a bathroom break."
"Yeah yeah, we'll see about that."
With them being as busy as they usually are, they tap away at their keyboards. Retsuko is worried, no matter how much work she had to do, there wasn't anything that could take her mind off of this contest. She had thoughts like [What if I can't hold it? What if I pee myself in front of everyone? I couldn't live that down! I know I could always run off, but then I'd loose 5 thousand yen! I just need to focus]. Time goes by, hour by hour, already she's feeling the water hit her bladder. After only 2 hours she's wanting to head to the bathroom already! What do you think that does to her confidence?!
Looking over at Fenneko, she wasn't even phased! She sat upright and worked liked it was any other day. Retsuko had plenty of doubts at this point. She leaned forward and resisted the urge to grasp herself. It was already the bad! She
5 hours in, and she was ready to BURST! Both of the never even went to lunch, they're desperation was so unbearable that they didn't even want to move. At this point they squirmed in place, it was impossible to keep still. Retsuko heard her Fenneko say "Give up! I know you want to!"
"Never! I'm not loosing that much money over my bladder!"
"Come on... I know you're gonna burst at some point!
"Fenneko... I'm not leaving this spot, I'd pee myself before I do!"
"Well then that's what you're gonna do! While I'm over here all nice a dry...
"MMMMmmm shut up!" a wave of desperation hit her. There's no way she can go much longer, she needs a plan and fast. Let's take a look into her thoughts...
[I can feel it moving down though me! I can't do this anymore! Maybe if I can find a way to make this easier. Maybe I could... let a little out! just a little though my panties! It'll soak into the chair, and if I do it right my skirt won't get wet. Ohh I hate everything about this plan, but I need to pee now!]
Retsuko adjusted herself in her seat, in complete disbelief that she was actually about to do the unthinkable. She pulled her skirt up her back a little, allowing her undercarriage aim directly at the seat without worry of getting her outerwear wet.
[Ok ok ok ok ok I can do this! Just a little...just like I'm sitting on a toi-] to her surprize, she wasn't able to control it! It shot out of her full force! [no no no no no nonoononononono!] Her bladder easily overfilled the seat and dripped onto the floor. The only thing she could do was watch in horror as she was having an accident in her workplace!
Worst part, Fenneko saw it. Without hesitation she got up and said "I win, that's it I win. Oh crap I gotta gooooooo!" she darted straight down the hall for the bathroom. Grasping and prancing as she ran, luckily for the both of them, everyone else was still at lunch and couldn't see this humiliating display.
Retsuko kept on pissing, the chair, the carpet, her pride, all done for!
It took a solid minute and a half for her bladder to fully drain. She placed her forehead on the table and sat there in shame. That is until Fenneko came back into the room. "Phew... looks like I win huh? Ohhh my.... you really went all the way on that seat." No sign of movement came from Retsuko's body. "Riiiiight... well you still owe me my money, I'll let you take your time on that, but I WANT my money." Still no sign of anything from Retsuko. "(sigh) I'll go find you a towel to at least cover up with... just pray Haida come over here and tries any of his terrible pickup lines on you..."
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Thanks for reading this short story! I'd spend more time on it if I could but It got stumped for so long on this and just decided to end it in the best and quickest way possible. Overall I'm not that proud of this one, but for something written in one day with half an outline, I'd say it's about "ok" and nothing different.
If anyone has any suggestions I'd be happy to hear them! |
Hey all, I'm getting back into posting stories here! We'll start things off with a rework of a very old story of mine originally posted on Tumblr. It's pretty much the same story, but I've polished up the rough edges, the structure, and rewritten a few parts I didn't like.
In this story, Peridot has to pee for the very first time, and has no idea what to do about it! Will she figure things out before she explodes
Enjoy! 🥰
Peridot NEEDS Release!
Peridot groaned. It was late but she couldn’t sleep. She didn’t need to, but she found it a pleasant experience, and since Lapis was such a big fan, she’d been doing it much more often lately.
Not tonight though.
There was something rather… pressing… on her mind.
She chewed her bottom lip, shifting her position in the lawn-chair for the hundredth time. It was long ago that she’d abandoned the hammock she and Lapis shared, for fear of waking her. That and, somehow, the thought of liquids, those which her “barn-mate” could control, was making things worse. Her petite figure was starting to shiver, her bum was tensed and wiggling in her seat.
All she could do was whimper as a fierce wave of urgency rocked her frame, then wonder how she’d let this happen...
Gems have no concept of holidays, no real understanding of celebrations, and no clue at all about feasting, drinking, or whatever came next.
Despite not feeling the need to put organic matter into their bodies, and never having done it prior, Lapis and Peridot had certainly learnt about the process. Camp Pining Hearts, the greatest work of human Television, had taught them all about the kinds of foods humans eat; the customs, the preparations, the apple cider… it was enough to make even the newest of earthlings curious. After all, it seemed harmless enough.
So, the blue and green gems had given drinking a go.
Lapis had actually given it a little more than just a go. For obvious reasons, she had found the sensation of water running down her throat interesting, pleasant, and once started hard to resist!
Peridot had been hesitant, however. Yet, always eager to learn about the Earth, and in part to please Lapis, she had found herself drinking nearly just as much.
It was only now that she remembered the consequences Amethyst had warned her about.
Well, she remembered some of what she’d said anyway, it had been hard to pay attention at the time. It had felt rather a crude subject, beneath her. She regretted this immensely now it was inside her.
With a gasp she felt a dire need to clasp between her legs, though not knowing why, perhaps because that was where the burning ball of waste liquid sat. What she did do, though, was carefully palpitate her abdomen, which had swollen to make her waist a few inches thicker already. Stars, if only she’d listened to Amethyst, she’d know how to deal with this!
Her only hope was that eventually the liquids would find some way to exit her body, though she had no idea how it would. (Gems, of course, do not naturally have genitals, or urinary systems, and Peridot had no idea what there were to begin with!) Luckily, she had remembered to create a sort of stretchy sack for the waste fluids to be stored but simply had no idea what to do with it next.
She just felt full… so very full.
Her thighs shook and squeezed together. Grasping her mouth, she muffled another moan as her distended bladder suffered a spasm. It contracted painfully, as if it were trying to push the urine somewhere, but where?
The first 24 hours hadn’t been so bad, the evening after the meal had come around without any problems. She’d felt the liquid pass through her and settle into her primary containment tank, or “stomach,” then slowly filter through to her secondary; her “bladder.”
It wasn’t until that night that she began to feel pangs of fullness; of an uncomfortable sensation tingling between her legs. She had dreamed of dancing, running water, pools, her time spent in Steven’s bathroom (for some reason) many strange things. When she’d woken up, she’d felt a fairly intense needs to rid herself of this fullness in her bladder and noticed an embarrassing bulge in her abdomen.
Hoping it would die down, she had suffered through the whole day, never letting on, suppressing her desires to groan or squirm in discomfort. By evening her thoughts had been pretty one track; release, full, release, full, I have to, I need to!
She couldn’t. Not only did she not know how, but her situation, her large belly, her sloshing insides, and her nervous, weak body language was just too embarrassing to let anyone know about. She could have woken Lapis and asked for help, but no. She could wait it out, she could just wait it out, she could suck it up and hold it inside until it just went away…
…but what if it didn’t? What if it just kept building and growing inside her, this throbbing orb of agony and pressure. How much stretching could her form take? How many more days of this?
One? Two? A week? Eventually I’ll burst! I’ll poof and then-!
“Oh, my stars!”
The words escaped her mouth, cutting off her own thoughts. She gasped in humiliation at the thought of her physical form disappearing, leaving behind a huge quantity of dirty water to spill all over the floor, and for her gem to fall and land in.
She winced and shivered as the idea worsened ever-present yearning from her stressed little form. Wracking her brains for a solution, she thought back to her previous Camp Pining Hearts.
She could vaguely remember a certain filler episode from season four, one that had revolved around Pierre enacting a righteous prank on Paulette. One involving a drinking contest, a full day of camp activity and him crafting circumstances that kept the irritating girl from the, uh… what was it?
That was one of her least watched episodes with much attention it being both filler and largely focused on the objectively worst character. It had also been hard to relate to… until now.
Muddy, cruddy, clod! I don’t want to be anything like Paulette!
All she could parse was that she had to find some kind of room, a specialized place that would drain her bladder and relieve her of this pain.
The issue was that she didn’t have one and had no idea where to get one from. She was certain that Steven would have one, with this being a frequent occurrence for humans, but he was definitely sleeping now, and Peridot wasn’t sure she could stand to wait!
The green gem didn’t want to wake him for something so embarrassing, even if it was getting urgent…
Peridot squeezed her thighs together so tightly they almost fused, another pained whimper slipped from between her trembling lips, and she fought to keep her sanity from drowning in her piss. Gritting her teeth and balling her hands into fists, she felt her body begin to sweat.
M-Maybe this will help release some of the water! She thought, excited at the prospect. Now… what will work up a sweat?
Jumping to her feet - and then immediately pausing to cross her legs, clutch her abdomen and groan inwardly - she began to run on the spot.
The movement was bouncing the “larger-than-average lake” of piss within her, making loud splashing and sloshing noises as it cascaded around her alien bladder, making the pain almost double as it bore down on her crotch with renewed fury.
Peridot paused, gasping for breath and conscious of the noise her movements were making, but more because she feared she’d pop right then and there from the pressure. However, once she checked her forehead and found it damp with sweat, she became reinvigorated, and began to make extremely awkward jumping jacks.
It was agony to endure, but she was doing as best she could while so terribly water-logged. She didn’t care if she looked ridiculous, she already did with that jarring, distended belly full of fluids that she carried with such spite, the burden she wanted so desperately to go away.
As she completed her 18th jump, each causing shockwaves of pain to ripple through her, she swore she’d never drink again. Nothing was worth this situation, nothing at all!
Minutes passed and Peridot kept exercising, everything causing her greater pain and soaking her quivering body with further sweat. Eventually she had taken all she could take, exhausting her physical form completely. As if she were a machine running beyond its max capacity, overloaded and malfunctioning, ready to explode!
She collapsed to her knees and let out an uncontrollable whine, almost a howl, like a squirmy puppy needing to be let outside. She just grabbed between her legs and writhed in agony, moaning, gasping out loud without regard. The pressure had become impossible to bear a second longer!
Full! Full! I want to go! I want to go! Let it out! Get it out! I need it! I need it! I need it so bad! I’m bursting! Desperate! Help me! Help me! Diamonds help me, please!
“Peridot!”
Her tear-soaked eyes snapped open. In front of her was Lapis, watching her outbursts and her small, sweaty, trembling body, kneeling on the floor with both hands buried in her groin.
Peridot’s face flushed a deep green and she quickly removed her hands and stood, but the pressure skyrocketed and she grunted out loud, bending forward and stamping one foot like a spoiled child, all in an attempt to get her own way against that nasty, rebelling, stuffed-to-bursting bladder.
“L-Lapis… it’s… it’s not… I’m not… I…” was all she could manage before falling to her knees once more, her hands clenched on her thighs and her body quivering!
A slender blue finger pressed against her lips, and Lapis spoke with empathy, “Peri, it’s okay. Just… let it happen.”
Peridot’s visor was foggy from her panting, but she still managed to stare up at Lapis with big, needy, confused looking eyes. The taller gem was smiling gently, if blushing a little, and one soft hand was resting on Peridot’s cheek, soothing the pain away.
“L-Let what h-happe-? HnnNN!”
Peri couldn’t even finish the question before she was overwhelmed by a sudden and agonizing wave of pressure. Again, the area between her legs felt like it needed to be held. A heat built up within her and around that area - she felt like she was going to burst!
“Peri… stop trying to hold it, you’ll hurt yourself! You have to let it go…”
All Peridot could do was gasp and whine at Lapis, trying so hard to convey that she didn’t know what to do, but focusing now mostly on the growing contractions; pulsing jets of pain striking her without end. It was unbearable! She was going to pop! Going to poof! It’d get all over Lapis! She couldn’t-!
Lapis gulped and looked down at her with great sympathy, but determination. Slowly, she crouched down beside her green companion and leaned towards her right ear. She whispered, softly, with care, “This is for your own good.”
Before Peridot could register what she’d heard, Lapis raised one arm in the direction of a toilet based sculpture, or Meep-Morp, that stood as ever against one wall of the barn. With an elegant flick of her wrist, she levitated a small trickle of water from inside, then directed it to her and her bursting companion. She let it hover in the air above them as Peridot stare up in horror.
Then she let it pour.
It fell in a trickle, a gentle stream of liquid which gracefully tinkled downwards, directly onto Peridot’s thighs.
Agony was an understatement, Peridot screamed as if her body was on fire, the space between her legs felt ready to explode off her body, and her bladder had contorted into the shape of upside-down cone, the point bearing down on that spot with all its watery weight.
Every inch of her body was concerned with this behemoth of urine, this gallon of piss that fought so violently to escape.
Her eyes went blank. Tears ran down her cheeks.
This was it. She was going to poof right then and there. All as her nethers began to glow and change…
Lapis, still beside her ear, brushed back her hair and gave it a gentle bite. She whispered, “Release…”
Peridot’s urine burst forth from between her thighs, a fresh-formed human vagina, pee hole and all, had taken shape there now.
Her body had shape shifted out of its pure desire to expel!
A shallow, quivering moan left Peri’s drooling mouth, hanging open as her eyes tipped upwards. The thick rope of yellowed, long held, steaming and strongly scented piss continued to billow from her, cascading all over Lapis’s dress and soaking it through to her legs, not to mention Peridot’s leotard, which was drenched and clinging to her. The stream was so strong it almost hurt to let fly, but the relief was so intense that all was ignored.
Between her gasping and groaning, Peridot was shrieking “YES!” “OH!” and “STARS!” Her face was orgasmic, the stream kept inside for so many hours, consisting of so many pints, finally spraying all over the floor, herself, and Lapis.
Her hands rose to grip her face, then slid upwards, running through her hair, all as her mouth remained agape and her tongue hung out like a panting dog; one having finally lifted a leg against the tree.
The boiling wastewater almost made Lapis flinch in pain, but she stayed beside Peridot and let it happen, all as clouds of urine scented, potent steam rose into the air to encompass Peridot’s frantically shaking body!
The stream had to have passed two litres in volume, but lasted little more than a minute, such was the pressure it was released with. After so much pain, so much struggling, her endurance was over, and Peridot hung there in the bliss and afterglow.
Even after the torrent had come to a close, Peri continued to gasp and shift her position, moan, and whine with such intense feelings of euphoria. How could something that had been so terrible cause her so much pleasure now?
It was intoxicating, she was drunk on pissing!
That was until she noticed how soaked she’d gotten Lapis.
“I-I… I’m so sorry Lapis!”
“Shh…” Lapis leaned in for a gentle kiss on the bright green, blushing gem’s lips. “It’s okay. You should have told me you had to go, I already let mine out a while ago… what took you so long?”
Peridot began to regain her senses, she recalled the smell of ammonia from when Lapis had first approached her, along with the slight dampness of her dress, which was now much worse, of course. “Y-You mean… you…?”
“Yes, I wet myself. Didn’t you remember what Steven told us?”
Peridot lowered her head, “I remembered where to store it but… n-not what to… do with it…”
Lapis gasped, “You mean you couldn’t… Oh you poor thing!”
“I-I guess some part of me remembered… I just had to get it out so I… I guess it must have just forced things… I thought I was gonna poof!”
Worry turned to guilty giggles as Lapis snorted, holding a hand to her mouth, resisting as best she could.
“H-Hey!” Peridot protested; her words broken by her own laughter, “I-It’s not f-fun-ny!”
Eventually both gems gave up trying to hold back. After all, they’d both done enough of that for one night. The pair snickered mindlessly for a while before Peridot began to sway, and her eyes to droop.
Recognizing how tuckered out she must be from the strain; Lapis lay Peri on her lap and allowed her to drift off to sleep. Once she was sure she was gone, the ocean gem lifted her cuddle partner and carried her to their hammock, where the two soaked gems lay curled up together and slipped into slumber land.
The only sound to leave Peridot’s lips was one final sigh of bliss and relief, followed by a small, but heartfelt, “Wow, thanks...”
Lapis smiled wide and hugged her closer.
It had been a rough night. |
So, this was actually written using several characters from a series of books that I write. In order to post it here, I have changed everyone’s names as well as a few key details. I want to ensure that my kink writing and my regular stuff are kept separated. But, I liked how this came out enough to post it. Many details are left vague since, on the off-chance someone here has read my books, I don’t want the connection to be made. For example, I can’t say here what exactly is being guarded without the story becoming recognizable to anyone that is familiar with my regular work. I apologize for the vagueness in parts of the story, but you guys are here for the desperation after all, so I hope it’s not too big of an issue.
Gonna also include a trigger warning for mentions of physical and psychological child abuse. One of the characters here grew up in an abusive home and that background shapes the way he views himself as well as a lot of his behavior. I have color coded the areas that describe the abuse in purple, and the story can still be understood if you skip over those parts.
There are also parts of this that are more humorous in nature. The book series this was initially based on is a dramady, and one of the characters tends to say rather silly things when he gets particularly emotional. I hope that it blends alright with the omo content.
Kenneth hated standing guard. It was boring. It just went on and on for hours. Most of the time there wasn’t even really anything to guard against, so it was pointless anyway. He just had to stand there. Really stand there. He had to keep his back straight, his hands clasped behind himself, looking straight ahead. He could not move. He could not fidget. It was very difficult to keep oneself still for such a long stretch of time. His legs always began to tingle eventually, just beneath the surface, with pent up energy and an all-consuming want to move. But, if his superior saw him pace in place, he would receive a lecture, perhaps even some form of discipline.
Today, Kenneth had already received a bit of discipline. And, it was because of that discipline that it had become even harder for him to keep his body still and rigid. Late to his post, his commander Bryce had instructed him to down a large jug filled with water. At first, the purpose of this had eluded him, but after a couple hours of standing in place with nothing to occupy his mind with, he knew exactly what the purpose of the jug had been.
The water, which he had been forced to consume at a rapid pace, was now stretching the walls of his bladder mercilessly. Don’t squirm, don’t squirm, don’t squirm… He kept repeating to himself in a mantra. Not only was he not supposed to squirm, it was also terribly unbecoming and embarrassing for someone such as him to show a need for the toilet so openly.
But, good God, did he ever need a toilet. Or a tree. Or a lake he could run into until the water covered him up to the waist and he could just—
Stop. Stop thinking about that. He could not think about that now. He could hold this. He’d held it much, much longer before.
And, he reminded himself, he couldn’t relieve himself on a tree or in a lake even if one magically materialized in front of him right now.
He’d grown up with an abusive father hellbent on causing him pain and humiliation; One of the routine punishments was having his restroom privileges taken away when he really, really needed them. His father enjoyed making him beg and beg and beg until he was sobbing in a puddle of his shame. Upon wetting himself, there was always a further punishment in the form of a vicious beating for making a mess of the floor.
Even when his father was ‘merciful’ and allowed him use of the toilet, his father would then stand directly behind him to ‘supervise’ as he attempted to relieve his bladder. Truthfully, this was just a bizarre, sick mind-game the man enacted on his child. Kenneth would oftentimes feel so intimidated by his father’s presence there that the pee would refuse to come out. After enough time had passed with Kenneth’s bladder stubbornly remaining clenched and full, he would receive a beating for wasting his father’s time. Generally, he would finally wet himself in the midst of the beating, provoking his father’s rage even more.
These deranged games he’d been forced to grow up playing resulted in Kenneth developing quite the complex. The term ‘pee-shy’ did not even do justice to what exactly Kenneth was. It wasn’t merely that he preferred privacy, or got frozen up for a few seconds every now and then, it was a neurosis that left him out of his mind with the need to urinate multiple times a week. He could use one of the toilets that was located in his barrack. This one had a locking door, was far enough away from anyone else, and had a very loud sink beside it he could flick on and use to calm his nerves.
That was the only place he could pee. Nowhere else. If he tried to relieve himself in any other location, he would find himself completely incapable. Several times, crazed with need, he’d even mashed the flat of his palm over his bladder in a last-ditch effort to force a stream out, but the only result this had ever given him was pain. So, he grit his teeth, and he held it until he could return to his barrack and his blessed privacy. Some days, he even got so desperate that when he looked down at himself, he would be startled by a painful round bump in the center of his normally flat abdomen. His bladder was so full to bursting that it was actually visible, yet it still would refuse to empty when he gave it the order to do so.
There were occasional times when he would need to urinate while observed for one reason or another. This had not been easy for him initially, but then Dwight offered to be his observer. Dwight had been Kenneth’s best friend since the two of them were very young children. Dwight had known about Kenneth’s difficulties urinating since they were small; They had camped out in the woods once and Dwight noticed Kenneth obviously struggling to hold a full bladder. After many seconds of embarrassed stammering on Kenneth’s part and confusion on Dwight’s, Dwight finally figured out what Kenneth was describing and why he was so uncomfortable. So, he offered to stand beside Kenneth and keep watch for anyone else that could see him taking a leak. Kenneth had worried that he would be unable to go with Dwight so close, but he felt a deep trust for Dwight that he’d never been able to feel for another person before, and relief came to him quickly.
To this day, Kenneth had little to no problems peeing in front of Dwight. He trusted him. So, if he needed to give a urine sample under observation, Dwight would be the one to join him.
Now here, standing maddeningly still as his bladder throbbed and pounded beneath his belt, he wished Dwight were there with him. Dwight could take his spot here, cover for him while he made a mad dash back to the barrack, kicked open the door to the restroom and pissed out an ocean.
His post here was quite a long way from his barrack, he realized… A very long walk… It would be hard to walk with the stiff legs he always got after staying still for too long. Harder still when he felt like there was a twenty pound bowling ball in his abdomen.
A bowling ball that had begun to drip…
He jumped, startled by the sensation of few, tiny drops of warmth seeping from his length and into his clothing. Now that he’d jumped once, he had to do it again! He bobbed up and down, fists clenched at his sides. His bladder thrashed around and tried to burst free, he pressed his thighs tighter and tighter together to keep anything else from leaki—
“Paulson,” Bryce called sharply, addressing Kenneth by his last name.
Kenneth jumped in surprise again. He’d forgotten where he was for a second there; his entire universe had shrunken to contain just his bladder and the liquid trying to flee from its confines. He’d been jiggling in place for at least a minute, and remembered now how that wasn’t allowed. He forced himself to still once more. As he did, another jet of urine spurted from his tip, and he looked down in a panic. Nothing showed on his uniform, thank goodness. And, it looked like his bladder had calmed down and stopped spasming for a moment. He could keep the rest in, he told himself.
But… He was supposed to stay here until it got dark. There were hours left to go until then. And then there’d be the long walk back to the barrack. He’d have to actually get to the restroom once he was there, lift the lid of the toilet, get his clothing out of the way…
He could make it! He could definitely make it! Now that a little had come out, that probably took the edge off, right? It must have, surely!
Less than thirty seconds later he felt back on the edge of well and truly exploding again. He…Couldn’t make it. He would either wet himself here or do damage to his body if he didn’t empty his bladder soon. He had no choice. He was going to have to debase himself and request that Bryce relieve him of his position for a little while.
Oh, he should not have thought the word ‘relieve’… He tried to quell the shudder that ripped through his bladder at that term, rocking back and forth on his heels in a way he hoped wasn’t too visible.
This was going to be utterly embarrassing, Kenneth knew. He did not like calling attention to his needs. He preferred to have people think he just didn’t have any. Even admitting that he was sleepy would cause him to blush as he felt as though he was admitting to a weakness, a deep personal failing. No doubt his father’s abusive treatment of him had played a role in his feelings of shame.
Nothing was more embarrassing to him than admitting he needed to pee. He could tell Dwight easily enough by now, but announcing to anybody else that his bladder was full made him go weak with humiliation. Kenneth liked to be in control of all things, and he often spoke in a pompous manner simply to mask all of the insecurity he really felt. A need to pee was not something he could control, and there was nothing he could do to conceal it after he’d been enduring it for long enough.
Compounding this was the fact that Kenneth did not particularly like Bryce, and Bryce was none too fond of Kenneth either. They got along like water and oil most of the time and— Kenneth should really stop thinking about liquids!
Nevertheless, there was nothing else to be done for it. Either he request a brief break to handle his need, or he risk drenching his uniform and probably everything in a fifty mile radius with the ungodly amounts of liquid he was keeping inside himself.
The next time he saw Bryce glance his way, Kenneth beckoned him over. He prepared himself to speak, but the words “May I please have a break so I can pee?” died in his throat. That was just too embarrassing!
“What is it?” Bryce demanded.
“I… Um…” Kenneth stammered. He hated the timidness in his voice. The shaky twinges that he could normally hide behind an arrogant attitude. He did not have the strength to put on that attitude at the moment. He barely had the strength to keep the flood within him from soaking the ground below his feet. “I… I need to… I would like to request a short break, please?”
“Why?”
Kenneth had a suspicion that Bryce already knew precisely why. He’d been the one to force him to consume so much water, after all. Of course though, the bastard was going to force him to say it. Kenneth did not want to give him the satisfaction of debasing himself further. Asking for a break at all had been humiliating enough, he was not about to specify the reason. At least, not in such vulgar terms as; “Because I need to pee!”
“Because…” Kenneth said instead. He felt his face heating, going red, and he hated it. “I… I need to… Um… Water the trees.”
Bryce’s brow furrowed. He looked a tad confused, but Kenneth doubted it was genuine. “You… That is not part of your job, Paulson. The trees can manage themselves.”
“I don’t mean—“ Kenneth said. “I mean— I have to… You know… I need to see a man about a horse.”
“There are no horses here, Paulson.”
He was fucking with him. He was definitely fucking with him.
“That was not literal either,” Kenneth cried. God, his voice was squeaking, cracking with a distinct whine. It did not sound powerful like it was meant to at all! “I… The pressures of nature have become too much for me to bear,” he said. “I require a brief comfort break, I assure I will return—“
“God, could you sound more pretentious?” Bryce asked. “Speak like a normal person for once.”
“I need to pee!” Kenneth snapped, feeling his anger boil over. As he spoke, he gave up all pretenses and began jiggling in place once more. He rocked back and forth on his feet. He crossed his legs together, he came dangerously close to literally holding himself. He only just managed to retain enough control to keep himself from doing something so disgusting and dirty. “Okay? I need to pee extremely badly! My teeth are floating and my eyes are turning yellow, alright? I need to go right now or else everyone near us is probably going to drown! Please, just let me?”
Well…
So much for not using ‘vulgar’ terms, then…
But, at least he’d remembered to say ‘please’, anyway. That had to count for something, right?
Bryce chuckled a little. “Ah, seems you still lack the ability to hold your emotions in check? That was quite a rude way to speak to your superior, wouldn’t you think?”
“I apologize,” Kenneth said. His face felt like it was on fire almost. “I am under a great deal of pressure, I assure you after I’ve handled my need, I will—“
“Nope, you can’t hold your emotions in at all,” Bryce continued, as if Kenneth had not said anything. “I think you need a bit of a lesson on holding stuff in, wouldn’t you say?”
“Bryce, I—“
“And, it certainly sounds like you’ve got a lot in you that really wants to come out.”
Kenneth could barely pay attention to what Bryce was saying. All he could pay attention to was his bladder’s frantic cries to be emptied.
“I think it would do you good to just keep all of that right where it is,” Bryce said. “You need to learn restraint, and this should really do the trick.”
Kenneth at last realized what Bryce was talking about. He was not going to get that break, God how he needed it…
“I guess it would be unfair of me to make you stay still when you are in such a state, though,” Bryce said. “Don’t worry about your position anymore.”
Kenneth realized that Bryce just wanted to see him humiliate himself by pee-dancing like a little kid, but he didn’t care. Being allowed to squirm and writhe in place was a welcome mercy. Not as welcome as actually being able to pee would be, but at least he was able to do something now to keep his bladder in check.
Bryce was, indeed, very amused by the way Kenneth moved about now that he’d been permitted to. His legs crossed this way and that. He jumped up and down. A few times Bryce noticed Kenneth’s hands going very, very close to his crotch before he yanked them back at the last second, hissing under his breath. He was trembling all over, practically vibrating with need.
Bryce smiled, “That’s a cute dance you have there,” he said.
Kenneth fought down the urge to give Bryce an extensive list of all the vicious wildlife creatures and poisonous plants he could go fornicate himself with. His bubbling anger seemed to want to burst out almost as much as his pee did. Holding both of these things back took such a concentrated effort that he felt buckets of sweat cascade down the nape of his neck.
Good, he thought. Maybe some of the water won’t be heading to my bladder now.
At one point, Kenneth literally went to his knees, and despite his valiant effort to hold onto his modesty, his hands did things unbidden and clasped themselves around his member. Christ! I’m going to piss myself in front of that bastard at this rate!
“Hey,” Bryce said. “You still need to stand up. No kneeling.”
Kenneth shot Bryce a glare, wishing with all his might he could turn him to a pile of ash just by looking at him but finding he lacked the mutant ability to do so. He gingerly crawled back onto his feet, losing a few spurts along the way, and tightening his grip on himself as a result.
This was a losing battle, he knew. Bryce had no intention of giving him a break, and there was no way he’d make it to nightfall dry. He considered looking on the bright side, when he inevitably pissed himself in front of Bryce, that would be the first time he successfully peed in front of someone— other than Dwight— in decades. Maybe his shy bladder would get better? Or maybe the shock and humiliation of the moment would make it get even worse?
Probably the second thing.
He wasn’t sure how his shy bladder COULD get worse, honestly. Once he even got stage-fright because a tiny spider had been sitting on the toilet tank. He’d managed to convince himself it was staring at him and had been unable to pee until after he’d squished it.
But still, once the spider was gone, he had peed in the end. That had felt really, really good. His bladder had loosened and his stream had poured thunderously into the water, draining away all the tension and—
Stop! Stop it right now! Following his thoughts, his bladder had begun to squeeze, tiny droplets leaking from his tip. He pressed down against himself with his hands. He could feel tears beginning to spring to his eyes. He was so full of liquid, it was trying to escape from any place it could. He was going to have an accident, there was no way around it.
Unless... Well, they were outside…
“Can… Can I just turn around real quick and go here?” Kenneth asked. He didn’t know why he was bothering. Even if Bryce said yes, he didn’t know if his bladder would cooperate and actually empty.
“Oh, but I thought you were shy?” Bryce asked in a teasing tone.
Kenneth felt his face go redder. God, every time he thought it was impossible for him to feel more humiliated, something happened to prove him wrong. “I— A little, I guess.”
“A little?” Bryce repeated, incredulous. “Remember when we went on that long march? You didn’t pee a drop then, and every time we stopped for a pee break you just stood off to the side mumbling to yourself with your dick in your hands. ‘Please, please, just let me!’” He laughed. “Most pathetic thing I’d ever seen.”
“I’m not pathetic!” Kenneth protested. He was furious. His body was flashing hot and cold with equal parts of rage and humiliation. His bladder felt on the very edge of rupturing, tearing him apart from the inside. “I—“
“You can go here,” Bryce said. “But, I will be staying here to supervise you. And you have one minute to go.”
Kenneth frowned at that. Even if he was able to start peeing, he didn’t think he’d be able to empty himself all the way in the span of a single minute. “Wha—“
“Your time starts now,” Bryce warned, before beginning to loudly count.
Kenneth shuffled on his feet as he spun around, his hands tore at his belt, shaky fingers fumbling at the buttons and zip of his uniform. He pulled himself out and aimed between his feet. Please… He thought. Please, I need it so bad! Please!
Nothing.
He was so ridiculously on edge that it felt like his bladder had been plugged up with the world’s most powerful titanium cork. The tiny dribbles that had been leaking from him for the past half hour ceased. Not one drop of relief was able to force its way past his scared, stubborn little muscles.
“Time’s up,” Bryce called. “Feel all better now?” He knew, of course, that Kenneth had failed to achieve release.
Kenneth grumbled to himself as he stuffed himself back into his pants and re-affixed his buttons. He didn’t dare try to put his belt back together though. Now that it had stopped pressing on his bladder, he didn’t want to give it the opportunity to do so again. He turned back around to face his tormenter.
Bryce put a finger to his chin. “I do not believe you are in uniform, Paulson. Put your belt back into its proper position.”
“I can’t, I—“
“Now,” Bryce said firmly. “Or, do you want me to give you another jug of water?”
Kenneth couldn’t fathom the idea of putting even one more drop of liquid into his extremely hydrated body. Begrudgingly, he fixed his belt’s clasps back together. It was squeezing against him now. His bladder felt like a watermelon ready to split open. His hands returned to press between his legs. More tears came to his eyes. His dignity had been worn down to absolutely nothing.
Or, rather, almost nothing. The only little sliver of dignity he had left was the fact he had not yet wet his uniform. And he knew it was only a matter of time before that happened and, when it finally did, he would be worth nothing. He was crying from something more than pain now.
“Aw, poor little—“
“Bryce!” A voice called.
Kenneth looked up. That voice was like a choir of angels. It was Dwight. Perhaps, he could be saved.
“Smith,” Bryce said, using Dwight’s last name. “What is it? I believe I told you to take inventory of our weapon supplies, did I not?”
“I finished with that,” Dwight said. “I wanted to know if you needed me to do anyth—“ He noticed how Kenneth was moving around. A side effect of Kenneth’s shy-bladder was that he would do absolutely everything in his power not to make his need obvious. Generally, Dwight was the only person who could really tell when Kenneth needed to go because he knew his friend would chew on his knuckles when his bladder was giving him problems.
But, now… A blind man could probably work out that Kenneth was bursting. Dwight hadn’t seen him dance so much since they were children. It was… alarming. Kenneth had always had a higher than average tolerance for pain and discomfort. Kenneth would still be walking around after sustaining an injury that would have left Dwight bedridden for at least a day. Whenever Kenneth cried out in pain, Dwight knew that whatever happened must have been bad. This now, Kenneth winding his legs against one another as both hands pressed against his crotch, could only mean Kenneth was holding back an ungodly amount of pee and that, had Dwight been in that situation, he would have wet himself ages ago.
“Bryce, could I take over Kenneth’s position for a moment while he relieves himself?” Dwight asked. “I have nothing else I need to do.”
Kenneth felt his entire body flame. He must have been blushing from head to toe. He hated that he’d allowed himself into such a state that Dwight could figure out he needed a toilet without needing to be told. But, he couldn’t allow himself to feel too upset. He was going to be allowed to—
“No,” Bryce said. “Paulson must remain at his post.”
“Bryce,” Dwight said. “How much use is he really going to be in his current position? He can hardly make for a good guard if he can barely walk and his hands are too pre-occupied to reach for any weaponry. You are being illogical.”
Bryce was clearly trying to come up with an argument. But ‘I just want to see him humiliate himself because he annoys me’ was not a very good one. “Fine…” Bryce said. “You may trade places with him for now.”
Dwight approached Kenneth, “Hey, Kenneth,” he said quietly. “Bryce says we can—“
Kenneth nodded quickly. He’d heard. He could go. He could finally go. He knew he needed to thank Dwight. Needed to get down on his knees and praise Dwight for being the single greatest person to ever live, but he was in such a rush and every last inch of his body was so full he couldn’t say anything. He just took off.
Breaking into a run so suddenly, after hours of remaining in one location, had been a bad idea. A gush of piss wet the front of his uniform. He hoped it wasn’t visible. But, he did not have the time to check, nor could he move his hands away from his crotch for long enough to actually look. He didn’t feel any dampness against his palms though, which he hoped was a good sign.
He realized a few seconds later just how far he was from his barrack. He… Could not run that far. Even now, his gait was slowing to a clumsy, limping hobble. It would take him half an hour to get to the barrack at the rate his bladder was forcing him to move. He couldn’t make it there in time. He glanced every which way for any potential place to relieve himself.
He saw a mass of foliage not too far away.
He could go there, right? He had to! He had no choice! It was either behind the brush, or in his pants. He knew which option he preferred. He took careful, ginger steps in that direction, feeling a few more dribbles of urine sliding from him as he moved. He wanted to run there, but if he tried to move too quickly again he would have an accident for sure.
Finally, he was behind the cover of the brush. It was a lot of cover, at least. The bushes were high and concealed his short frame fairly adequately. And, there were a lot of them. He heard nothing but the sound of the wind rustling the leaves. He was as alone as he could get.
Now, it was time for the next obstacle; his clothes. Stupid Bryce had made him put his stupid belt back on, and now he needed to move both of his hands to get it back apart. He shot his hands from his crotch to his belt as fast as he could, but a spurt escaped him the instant he did. He fought down the urge to place his hands back between his legs. If he held himself again, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He’d never get his clothing out of the way. He’d just stand there, holding himself, until his bladder gave out and he was left standing in a puddle.
Another tiny leak trickled down his leg as he at last pulled his belt apart. Two more quickly followed as he fought with his buttons and zip. Finally, finally, finally, he pulled himself free and aimed.
Nothing happened.
GOD DAMMIT! PLEASE! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! PLEASE! YOU DON’T HAVE TO HOLD IT ANYMORE! JUST PLEASE, PLEASE! IT HURTS! LET ME GO! I NEED TO!
A few tiny drips fell from his tip, none of them granting him the relief he wanted so desperately. More liquid was falling from the corners of his eyes than was exiting his bloated bladder. His tears were no longer from humiliation, but from pure unadulterated, indescribable agony.
Please… Please… You’re alone… Just… Let me… I can’t take it…
He kept hearing his Father’s voice, he was assailed with memories of humiliation, pain, torment… His bladder shrieking in wild frenzy, his Father taunting and threatening him, finally being brought to a toilet only to be unable to let anything flow… The sickening feeling of liquid running down his legs and pooling below his feet, and the knowledge of the punishment that was sure to follow.
The tears cascaded down Kenneth’s face freely now. He couldn’t take it. The memories, the pain, the all-consuming need to just let go, please, for the love of God!
He needed Dwight here! Dwight could make him relax! Dwight could say things to him to make it all okay… But, if Dwight was here, then nobody could take his place standing guard, so he still wouldn’t be able to pee.
He tried, instead, to imagine what Dwight would say to him had he been there. “It’s alright, Kenneth. Nobody will see. The bushes are all in the way. If anybody comes here, I will yell at them to leave. Just relax and take your time now.”
He imagined the feeling of Dwight’s soft hand against his back. And, somehow, that was enough. The maddening drips transformed into a magnificent, relieving waterfall. He was peeing. There was a God. It felt like some sort of divine reward, to have come through such an awful trial and succeeded. He’d earned this. He’d earned this wondrous, all-consuming feeling of good in its purest sense.
His bladder was deflating, slowly shrinking back to the size it was supposed to be. Liquid gushed from him like a firehose turned on full-blast. It felt so good. It felt so good. It felt so, so good… He felt his eyes starting to drift shut, his legs going so weak it took a concentrated effort not to fall over while his cock was still spraying out gallons of too-long held liquid. In spite of his desire not to do anything that could call a person’s attention this way, he couldn’t stop himself from moaning. His moan sounded almost perverse, and if anyone had managed to hear it they probably wouldn’t guess that peeing was the activity he was partaking in back there.
“Ohhhhhhhhh, Goddddddddd...” His toes curled inside his boots, his body quivered and shook with unbelievable amounts of pleasure.
The puddle was growing large. So large in fact that it was starting to hit his boots, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about that. He couldn’t care about anything. His world had shrunk to one thing and one thing only; the sensations of release. It just kept coming and coming. He started to wonder if he was going to be peeing forever— And, truthfully he wasn’t sure if he’d even mind that too much— But, finally his stream dwindled down to a slightly less forceful gush, and after about half a minute more he was back to dribbling. He shook himself off and started to put his uniform back together.
Now that the relief was over, he began to feel a bit mortified by what he’d done, and particularly by how loudly he’d realized he’d been moaning. He tried to put that behind him as he exited the brush. Still, there was no one in the surrounding area. Nobody would ever have to know, aside from him.
He returned to where Dwight and Bryce were. Bryce rolled his eyes exaggeratedly as Kenneth approached. “Is Paulson feeling all better now?”
Kenneth looked down, still feeling shameful. “Um, yes, Bryce. Much relieved. Thank you.”
“Good. Now get back to your post.”
Kenneth returned to where he was supposed to stand. “Thank you so, so much,” he whispered to Dwight. “You really saved me.”
“Not a problem,” Dwight whispered back. He started to leave, then stopped. “Um…” He clasped a hand over his mouth, obviously regretting having spoken.
“What’s wrong?” Kenneth asked.
“Noth—Nothing,” Dwight stammered.
Kenneth followed Dwight’s gaze for a second, glancing down at himself… And at the unmistakable line of wetness going down one of his pant-legs. “Ah, God—“
“Just… Just stand…” Dwight helped Kenneth into a position that mostly concealed that part of his leg. “Okay, try not to move too much until it gets dark.”
Kenneth sighed. He hated standing still. But, at least stillness would be easier to achieve now than it had been earlier.
Edited April 29, 2021 by segaface
(see edit history) |
Wrote another short featuring his friend. Liked it enough to post. I apologize again for the vagueness in certain aspects, it's just necessary and I hope doesn't distract from the desperation content.
***
Usually, Dwight loved getting to sleep with Kenneth beside him.
Dwight knew that his friend loved him just as much as Dwight did him, but getting Kenneth to actually show affection was like getting a grizzly bear to tap-dance. Kenneth’s shaky upbringing and pathological need to appear cold and unfeeling led him to try to repress the emotions he held for his friend, to never show them where others might see. To do otherwise, Kenneth thought, would make him appear soft and weak.
But when they could sleep beside each other, like tonight, sharing a tent together… It was different. Kenneth had way too much energy, and a stubborn refusal to ever settle down or stop anything he was doing, it was difficult to get him to go to sleep. He could be practically falling asleep on his feet, barely able to keep his head up all the way, but still insist he could finish whatever task had been set out for him without a break.
When Kenneth finally did go to sleep, always at much too late an hour, he slept like a rock; A rock that had just run forty miles and downed four bottles of cold medicine. And if Dwight was beside him when he finally fell asleep, he would soon turn and cling to Dwight like a drowning man would to a life-raft. His arms would find themselves coiled around Dwight in a vice, not unlike the pressure of a boa constrictor. Then, subconsciously, he would snuggle his head against his friend’s chest.
Usually, Dwight loved getting to sleep with Kenneth beside him.
This should have been absolutely perfect. Just the two of them alone in the tent, no sound but the quiet rustling of leaves and the feint chirping of crickets… Kenneth cuddling him so close and tight and Dwight watching the steady rise and fall of his friend’s chest as he drifted off…
Yes. It should have been absolutely perfect.
Except, Dwight had to pee.
This was not an urge he could put off until morning. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure he’d last another ten minutes in his current state. They’d been marching all day, and Dwight had drank tons of water, so overcome by thirst and exhaustion that he’d failed to heed where it was all going to end up. He’d been so sore and worn out by the time they stopped for the night that he just crashed without even giving the idea of relieving himself a moment’s consideration.
Now a couple hours later, once again wide-awake, he was regretting that dearly. His bladder felt like it had literally no room left inside of it at all. Every time he inhaled, it felt almost like the skin over his bladder was being stretched out as it strained not to tear from the enormous pressure. He squirmed where he lay, but no matter how ridiculously he managed to contort his legs, the need wouldn’t subside even a little.
So, he should just go and pee, right?
He wished he could. God, how he wished he could! But, Kenneth did in fact sleep like a rock, and his arms that were wound around Dwight—usually a great comfort— were now imprisoning him in his place. Dwight could not squirm out from Kenneth’s grasp, nor could he manage to rouse his friend to let him up.
Dwight had tried a few times to just unwrap himself from Kenneth’s embrace. But, somehow for a guy that struggled to lift even the lightest pieces of weaponry, Kenneth seemed to acquire super-strength when he was asleep.
So, he tried to wake his friend up instead. First by whispering, “Kenneth. I need you to let me up for a second…”
Nothing.
Then by gently nudging him with his foot.
Nothing.
Next, he tried speaking a little louder; “Come on, Kenneth! Wake up! I gotta pee!”
Still, he got absolutely nothing.
At one point, he’d even kicked Kenneth in the shin. It had been an accident, as he’d squirmed and scissored his legs together, it had just happened. The impact had been pretty hard too, Dwight wouldn’t be surprised if Kenneth had a bruise come morning, yet somehow it still wasn’t enough to wake him.
Compounding Dwight’s problem was the exact place that Kenneth was squeezing him. Kenneth’s arms were wrapped directly around Dwight’s middle, providing even more pressure to his bloated, overfull bladder. Every once in a while, Kenneth would hold him tighter for a little bit. Ordinarily, this would have made Dwight feel loved and cause his heart to bubble with happiness. But now, when it felt like his body must have been at least ninety percent pee, it only made him more panicked. He hitched his hips back and forth, longing to at least be able to hold himself, but Kenneth had hold of his arms and so it was impossible.
So, Dwight spent the next several minutes that way. Crossing his legs together, squeezing his thighs in a pathetic and desperate attempt to pin himself shut, and occasionally trying to do something to wake his friend up so he could go. “Kenneth!” Dwight said, now certain he was speaking loudly enough he could be heard outside of their tent. “Kenneth! I need you to let go of me now!”
Kenneth remained asleep.
Dwight whimpered quietly into the darkness. This was ridiculous. He was in a forest, trees everywhere. Relief was just outside the tent, yet he couldn’t get to it! His bladder cramped and crashed down, waves of pressure rippling through his body. He felt a sudden surge of heat bead down his length, and before he could register that, a hot burst of urine escaped his tip and soaked warmly into his clothing. I’m peeing! He thought, mortified. No, please— Not yet!
It was the first few drops of his dam splitting open, and it terrified him. If he peed here, not only would he get soaked, but with as close together as they were, Kenneth would get drenched as well. It would end up looking like they’d both had accidents. Dwight considered for a moment that Kenneth might actually wake up in the event he found himself suddenly getting very, very wet, but the horror and awkwardness of the situation would be horrendous. And it wouldn’t help Dwight out too much if Kenneth didn’t wake up until after his bladder had already forcibly drained itself.
Dwight had managed to clamp off the leak, but his bladder was not satisfied. Just a couple seconds later, another rush of white hot, agonizing need tore through his body, and that was followed immediately by a long, uncontrollable gush of liquid. He was wetting himself! He was seriously wetting himself, in the middle of a forest, surrounded by perfectly usable trees, all because he couldn’t get Kenneth to wake the hell up!
“Kenneth!” He gasped out, his voice raising several octaves. “Kenneth, please! Wake up!” This time when he kicked Kenneth’s shin, it was on purpose. He winced as he did it, not wanting to hurt his friend, but wanting to avoid pissing all over the both of them even more.
A miracle; Kenneth’s eyes started to twitch. Then, slowly, they cracked open. Kenneth was staring at him in bleary eyed, drop-dead tired confusion; “What’s the matter? Are there enemies nearby?”
“Nnn—No!” Dwight stammered. Kenneth still had his arms around him! “I need you to let me up!”
Kenneth seemed to wake up a bit more. Dwight’s answer had been hesitant, and the hurried tone of his voice made Kenneth uneasy. There really were enemies near, weren’t there? It was odd that Dwight sounded like he wanted to handle this himself… Like Hell would Kenneth allow that! Dwight could be hurt, and what would Kenneth ever do without him? “No, let’s lay low,” Kenneth said. “If they have not yet spotted us, we shouldn’t risk letting them.”
“Kenneth, we’re not in danger—“ Dwight started to say. Another trickle of urine escaped, he felt it running down around his thigh to pool beneath him.
“Shhh,” Kenneth hushed, and to Dwight’s chagrin, he actually tightened his grip around him. “They might hear us! I won’t allow you to be hurt!”
“Kenneth, no!” Dwight protested. “That’s not—“
“Shhh!”
“I have to pee, you idiot!” Dwight snapped. “There are no enemies around that I know of.”
Kenneth stopped feeling panicked for just long enough to register how much Dwight was jiggling in his grasp. “…Oh,” he said after a moment. But, still didn’t let go.
Dwight squirmed against Kenneth, “That means you have to let me up. Unless you want me to flood the tent.”
“Ah, okay,” Kenneth said, releasing his grip. Just having the pressure of Kenneth’s arms go away was a relief. But, it was too much like the feeling of actually peeing, and Dwight had to use one of his newly-freed hands to grasp hold of himself, pinching his opening closed as best he could. He crawled to the opening of the tent and once he was outside, started to stand u—
To his horror, when he tried to get to his feet, his bladder shrieked in a wild frenzy, and even with all his squeezing, a stream pulsed forth. “Agh!” He gasped, feeling the warmth and slick wetness pooling into his palms. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to rise from his ridiculously hunched position so he could make a mad dash for the trees— the trees he could freaking see now— but he couldn’t move. If he moved, he’d pee. Not just leak or dribble, he’d pee for real, all that he was holding pounding out in a huge uncontainable burst. He felt himself actually start to tear up. “I can’t hold it…” He whimpered quietly. “I can’t hold it, I can’t hold it…”
He was going to pee himself right there, only partway outside of the tent, with tons of foliage he could have correctly relieved himself onto not but six feet from his face.
“Hey, Dwight…” Kenneth said softly. “Come on, it’s not that far. You can make it.”
“I can’t,” Dwight said, more embarrassed than he thought he’d been in his entire life. If this had to happen, why did it have to be with Kenneth right there? “I can’t move, it’s coming out.”
Kenneth felt awful. It was his fault Dwight was in this state. It was his fault Dwight was crying. “I’ll… I’ll help you,” Kenneth said. “Just… Move forward a little bit so I can get out, too.”
Dwight barely managed to get himself the rest of the way out of the tent. Each inch made him lose another few drops. His palms felt soaked. The fabric covering his dick felt utterly drenched. He didn’t dare let go of himself for a second, his hands were the only thing keeping all the gushes and leaks from turning into full-blast streams. He knelt there in the grass, hands gripping his crotch for dear life, eyes squeezed shut, expression a picture of agony and humiliation.
Kenneth quickly got out of the tent to join him. “Okay, Dwight, you only need to take a few steps, then you’ll be far enough away from the tent. Do you need help standing?” It was a dumb question. If Dwight could get to his feet, he would be at the tree by now. Kenneth didn’t bother to wait for a nod.
“Okay,” Kenneth said. “I’m going to help you up.” He took Dwight’s shoulder and started to pull him to his feet. Dwight whimpered loudly at the change in gravity and pressure. More pee spurted into his clenching hands, a trail cascading down his leg. “Alright?” Kenneth asked.
Dwight said nothing, but tried to nod.
“Okay, just a few steps this way,” Kenneth said, helping him hobble towards the trees. ‘Steps’ had perhaps been the wrong word to use. Dwight was more just hopping along, barely clearing any ground. He couldn’t part his legs hardly at all. It took way more than a few ‘steps’ for Dwight to get to the trees. He was glad he only slept in his boxers that night. But, when he moved one hand to try and fish himself free, he started to pee full-blast. Panicked, his hand went right back to where it had been. He let out a strangled, pained noise. He tried a few more times to get himself out, bouncing up and down and shifting his weight around like mad, but his hands would return to grip himself on pure instinct.
Kenneth realized what was happening. Dwight was going to completely pee himself just as he’d finally made it to the correct place. He could tell Dwight had figured this out as well. He just couldn’t let go of himself for long enough to remove his member from his boxers. Kenneth got an idea of something to do. It would feel… Weird, but he didn’t want Dwight to have a total accident after he’d worked so hard not to.
“Do you mind if I help you?” Kenneth asked.
“Do it,” Dwight said. “Please, I can’t take it anymore.”
“Alright…” Kenneth said. He fought down his feelings of hesitation, embarrassment and awkwardness. “Move your hands for just a tiny second,” he said. “Just a second.”
Dwight let go of himself, and it took every ounce of willpower not to put his hands right back where they’d been the instant he did so.
Knowing he didn’t have much time before Dwight went back to clutching himself, or just peed as he was, Kenneth tugged Dwight’s boxers down and allowed them to pool around his feet. As soon as the clothing was out of the way, Dwight was pissing more forcefully than Kenneth had ever seen him piss.
Dwight sighed out-loud the second he’d started gushing, tilting his head back and letting his eyes roll. Then, when he felt something splash his foot, he realized he should probably actually aim. He took hold of his soft, wet member and directed his stream away from his feet. His sighs and pants transformed into loud moans.
Kenneth felt his face burning up at the noises Dwight was making. The fact he was making those sounds while naked aside from his boxers bunched up around his ankles made Kenneth blush harder. He had known helping Dwight get himself situated to pee would feel weird, but what had come afterward made him feel even weirder. All those moans, and the fact Kenneth could see every last inch of his friend’s body, much of his skin shimmering with sweat…
It wasn’t the fact that Dwight was peeing that had Kenneth’s attention. He’d seen Dwight pee lots of times since they’d grown up together and all. He’d seen Dwight mostly naked a few times when they were little, too. But, this was the first time he’d seen Dwight totally unclothed now that they were adults. He’d known Dwight was more muscular than him, he’d been fascinated by Dwight’s bare chest and back on more than one occasion. He’d insisted to himself the fascination was due only to jealousy and nothing else, since his own body was so lacking in definition.
Now as his eyes roamed over Dwight’s form without his full permission, Kenneth noted that he had never realized before how firm Dwight’s legs looked. And he hadn’t seen Dwight’s unclothed backside since they were little. That looked as firm as his legs did. Accidentally, his eyes flicked over to Dwight’s front, settling on his cock. Even if it was currently in the process of spraying out ridiculous amounts of urine, Kenneth found himself thinking that it looked nice for some reason.
As he continued to stare at his friend, and listen to the moans falling from his lips, Kenneth tried to tear himself away. He was not supposed to find Dwight’s body so interesting. And the feelings he was having, ones which he didn’t think he’d ever experienced before in his life, set off alarm bells in his head, warning him that he was doing something that he was absolutely forbidden to do. Why did he feel like this?
“Ohhhhhh,” Dwight continued to moan. That sound made the weird feelings Kenneth was having intensify.
You know, a little voice in Kenneth’s head whispered. In a way, it’s because of you he’s making those noises.
What? Where did that come from? And, why was it making him feel warm?
As Dwight started to come close to the end of his pee, he glanced over his shoulder and realized Kenneth seemed to be staring at him. He thought that he should probably tell his friend to stop doing that, but found that in actuality, he didn’t really mind it. The idea that Kenneth enjoyed looking at his body made him feel… Something. He wasn’t sure what, but he knew he liked it.
He supposed it was a little embarrassing that Kenneth was staring at his body while he was in the process of having an absolutely massive, and seemingly unending, pee. But, he didn’t feel too bothered. His bladder at last felt empty after a few more seconds, the horrid pressure he’d been under had been replaced by a blissful nothingness. He wondered for a moment how simply feeling nothing at all could possibly feel this wonderful.
He finally realized with some embarrassment that he’d been peeing with his boxers pulled all the way down, like a little kid would. He pulled them back up and cringed at how damp, cold and clammy they now felt, a reminder that he hadn’t completely made it in time. He hadn’t brought a spare pair, and hoped that they’d be mostly dry by the time he got up in the morning, and that they wouldn’t smell too much. He didn’t know what to say to Kenneth. It had been an unusual experience, needing to have his friend help him walk to an appropriate place to relieve himself, and then pull his clothing down for him. If Dwight hadn’t been so out of his mind with need, he would have felt the awkwardness while those things were actually happening. As it was, the strangeness of the situation only really set in for him now that his mind was clear and his bladder empty.
Kenneth, likewise, did not know what to say. He was still puzzled by all the confusing emotions the sight of Dwight’s nude body had dredged up within him. The whole thing had been weirdly intimate in a way he had never experienced before. He supposed something should be said, though. “Feeling better?”
“Y—Yes,” Dwight admitted. “Sorry that got so weird, I just— I really needed to do that…“
“It’s fine,” Kenneth said. “Sorry you had a hard time getting me up.” |
Another involving these characters.
***
Elizabeth could be caring and compassionate at times, provided the situation called for it. Usually having someone dote on you wouldn’t be such a bad thing when you’d just been shot in the leg, but at the moment all Kenneth wanted was for her to go away for a few minutes.
She’d dressed his wound already, given him pain killers, asked him over and over if he was okay. He didn’t think she had much else left to do, except leave. But, still she wouldn’t. Because she could tell Kenneth was still very uncomfortable and in pain.
She assumed, as most anyone probably would, that the pain was from his leg where he’d been shot. But, that wasn’t the worst pain Kenneth was experiencing at all. The worst pain, which somehow managed to eclipse even the agony of being shot, was the sensation of his extremely full bladder.
When he’d woken up in the bed after being shot, his first thought wasn’t even related to his leg hurting, or the memory of the gun being fired, but instead of how he felt seconds away from wetting himself. He’d been about to jump out of the bed and look for somewhere private to relieve himself, when Elizabeth had put a hand to his chest and told him to lay back down. She informed him that he’d been shot, and only then did he realize how much his leg hurt.
Elizabeth had thought Kenneth’s attempts to climb out of bed were due to delirium. She thought the way he fidgeted and writhed as she dressed his wound and applied medicine were only because of the pain. Kenneth had not said a word to suggest anything else was troubling him. It was too embarrassing, the thought of admitting that he had to urinate so badly that the pressure within his bladder was a greater agony than being shot in the leg…
No, he’d wait until she left of her own volition, and then he’d find an appropriate place to void his bladder. If she would just leave! But, no. She was instead asking him if he needed the pillow adjusted, or if he was cold, or if there was anything he needed.
“Yes,” he wanted to say. “I need to relieve myself!” But, the words wouldn’t come. So, instead he sat up in bed, squirming, and fighting against the urge to hold himself. One of the worst parts, really, was that seeing as how one of his legs was so badly damaged, he was not able to cross them against each other. He could tense his thighs up, try to pin himself shut that way, but it did little to stave off the impending flood.
He brought one of his hands up to his mouth and began to chew the knuckle of his index finger. Elizabeth grabbed his hand and tugged it away from his teeth. “Get some rest,” she said. “You’re delirious. You’re hurting yourself.”
‘Rest’ was the furthest thing from Kenneth’s mind, but he lay himself back down, and Elizabeth pulled the blanket over him. At least, with the cover of the blanket, he could squeeze himself. He did so gratefully. He hoped that since he was supposed to go to sleep now, she’d leave him alone. She didn’t. Instead she sat down in the chair a couple steps from the bed and began to read a book to herself.
Kenneth pressed his palms tight against his crotch. He couldn’t make it much longer, his bladder was dying. He was only just now realizing that, even if Elizabeth did leave, he didn’t know how exactly he was going to get to his feet and look for somewhere to go. Between his about-to-explode bladder, his badly damaged leg, and the drowsy effects of the pain killers she’d given him, getting up and walking was going to be impossible. He didn’t think there was anything he could use in bed, especially not within the distance he could reach.
He was gonna pee in the bed. There was no way around it.
The door to the medical office swung open, and there was Dwight, his best friend. He was already speaking before he was fully in the room; “Is he okay!?” He sounded out of breath, terrified. Kenneth was sure Dwight had run here at break-neck speed the very second he’d heard Kenneth had gotten hurt. Dwight would have done the same even if the injury had been something as harmless as a paper-cut, let alone a bullet wound.
“I think he’s doing better,” Elizabeth said. “He’s resting now. I got him bandaged and gave him medicine. I think he’s in shock, though. He keeps trying to get up.”
Dwight stood beside the bed. He wanted to brush some of the hair from Kenneth’s face, to stroke his back. But, with Elizabeth in the room with them, he knew it was a bad idea to get so touchy-feely. “You need to stay in bed, okay?” he said. “Nothing you need to get up for.”
Kenneth whined in the back of his throat, and Dwight realized he was knotted with tension all along the spine. What was—
One of Kenneth’s hands emerged from beneath the covers, he drew it to his mouth and bit down hard on his knuckles, like he always did when he really, really had to—
Oh.
Dwight knew full-well how shy Kenneth was about this kind of thing. Kenneth was more pee-shy than Dwight thought it possible to be. Kenneth once claimed he could sometimes even get shy if he was looking at himself, and truthfully Dwight had been unable to tell if that had just been a joke or not. It wouldn’t surprise Dwight at all if Kenneth was genuinely that shy and occasionally got stage-fright even in front of himself.
No way Kenneth was gonna tell Elizabeth what he needed on his own. Dwight tried to think of a way to broach the subject that would not make Kenneth’s condition obvious and cause him to feel too much embarrassment. “So, he can’t get out of bed at all for now?” he asked Elizabeth.
“No,” Elizabeth said. “He needs rest and healing.”
“I see,” Dwight said. “So, let’s say he gets… thirsty?” He winced, it had been the first thing to come to mind, but he knew Kenneth did not want to be reminded of anything liquid right now. His entire body was surely almost entirely liquid by this point.
“I will bring him a drink,” Elizabeth said. “He won’t need to get it himself. Like you said, nothing he needs to get up for.”
Dwight noticed Kenneth’s face going pink and tried not to feel too bad. He was gonna be a lot more embarrassed if he had an accident here. “What about when… It sounds like he needs to rest here for a long time. I am sure he will be needing a toilet break…”
Elizabeth went a little red. It was just that… Normally the people she tended to after injuries were female. Generally, if a man was injured, another man would be the one in charge of their care, but this time around Elizabeth had been the only person available. It hadn’t been an issue, the injury was low enough on his leg she could just cut his pant-leg off at the knee to get to it, she hadn’t needed to look at or risk accidentally touching any of his more intimate areas.
When someone was injured and needed to stay in bed, they would be given a urine bottle to use. When they were injured so badly they struggled to move, like Kenneth was, that meant that whoever was caring for them would help. This wasn’t too big a problem for Elizabeth to do with another woman. It was awkward, of course, but less awkward than it would be with a man. The only man Elizabeth had ever seen pee was her husband. It would feel weird to watch a different man pee, much less have to assist him with doing so. And, Elizabeth knew Kenneth was a little… self-conscious, prone to embarrassment. He’d actually freaked out a little earlier when he realized his pant-leg had been cut and that Elizabeth could see his knee…
Elizabeth hadn’t really been thinking about the fact that Kenneth would inevitably have to pee at some point while in her care. She searched for a male urine bottle and when she found it she held it up to Dwight. “He’ll be using this,” she said. “But… With his injury, he may need help moving in order to use it.”
“Kenneth is—“ Dwight stopped himself. He almost said ‘really, amazingly, ridiculously pee-shy’, but he knew that naming the problem would embarrass his friend to no end. Elizabeth looked uncomfortable, so it was a good excuse; “Well, it might be strange for you to help him with that,” Dwight said. “He may be more comfortable if I do it instead.”
Elizabeth exhaled, “You don’t mind? It’s just— I usually only look after women, and—“
“Not a problem,” Dwight said. “Just… Give us some privacy for a few minutes.”
“Sure,” Elizabeth said. She left.
The instant she was gone, Kenneth’s hands tucked themselves between his thighs once more, and he hissed aloud; “Oh, God, Dwight! I have to pee so much! It hurts even worse than my leg does! It feels like my bladder is full of knives that are also on fire!”
“That’s… Quite an image there, Kenneth.” Dwight said. It was strange how Kenneth would suffer in silence, or describe his problem only in vague and overly-polite euphemisms when anyone else was around, but then when it was just the two of them he was not afraid to get vocal and sometimes even vulgar about it. “It’s okay, it’s just us now.” Dwight started untwisting the cap on the urine bottle. “Let me get this ready for y—“
“Hurry!” Kenneth begged. He could feel his face heat when his ears registered the pained urgency in his voice. He couldn’t help it. His control was frayed to nothing.
“I am, I am,” Dwight said. The cap popped off a second later. “I’m not sure if you’ll need help moving that leg to get this thing… in the right place or not. But, I can help.”
Kenneth grabbed the bottle from Dwight in his eager hand. He wished he could just start peeing in it the second he had it in his grasp, but his clothing was still in the way. He reluctantly removed the hand from his groin and tried to remove his belt, but he was disorientated from both the pain-meds and his desperation. He realized how dizzy the medication had made him, he was seeing double. He couldn’t work his belt. “Dwight—“
Dwight didn’t wait for him to say it. His friend would be so embarrassed once his desperate haze faded and he realized he’d admitted to needing help with something like his belt. Dwight got it apart, unfastened his buttons and pulled down his zip. Kenneth tried to position the bottle, but with how his leg was positioned up on the pillow it was hard to fit it where it needed to go. If Kenneth let himself pee in the position he was in, gravity would result in it pouring right back onto him.
Dwight gently grasped Kenneth’s knee and helped ease his leg from the pillow, then helped Kenneth turn so his legs were off the side of the bed and spread apart from one another. Seeing as Kenneth’s zip was down and he’d already taken his dick out, Dwight tried hard not to look at the space between his legs, but it was difficult not to, especially when he realized Kenneth was starting to dribble quite a bit. Kenneth himself did not seem to register that he was starting to have an accident. Poor thing must have been so desperate he didn’t feel it beginning to leak out of him.
But, at least it was only a few seconds worth of dripping, before Kenneth had the bottle nestled between his thighs and his member pointing into its opening. Now all the drips were being caught in an appropriate receptacle.
Except, that was all it was; drips.
Kenneth whined loudly as the tiny little drops were bringing him no relief.
“It’s just us,” Dwight reminded, his back to Kenneth now. “Don’t feel embarrassed. We’ve seen each other go lots of times, and I’m not looking at you.”
“I know…” Kenneth said, shimmying his hips uncomfortably as he tried to will his bladder to relax.
Still, he could only muster up a few maddening leaks. They only served to frustrate, not relieve.
“Are you… Worried about Elizabeth coming back in?” Dwight guessed. “Because, I’m pretty sure she won’t until I tell her it’s okay.”
“I don’t know,” Kenneth whimpered. “I— Ah, God! It hurts!”
Dwight felt terrible for his friend. ‘Helping Kenneth pee’ had kind of just always been a part of ‘being Kenneth’s friend’, but it was a part that Kenneth liked to pretend did not exist and that Dwight never dared to bring up outside of the moments it became necessary. Kenneth desired control over all things, he wanted to appear perfect and strong to everyone around him, even if the reality was that he was flawed and often fragile. Dwight was the only person he allowed to see those things. Around others, he put up a front; he talked in pretentious, boisterous ways and carried himself with an air of superiority, mainly so he could appear much more in control of himself and the world around him than he truly was.
He could hide the fact that something was scary to him by talking a big game. He could compensate for his small stature by standing tall and speaking loudly. He could make himself appear far more intelligent than he actually was by projecting confidence and authority into his voice. These things, he thought, all made him seem stronger, and hid his weaknesses. But, pee-shyness was a weakness he could not hide by talking himself up to others and acting loud and rowdy. It was something he had absolutely zero control over, and something that he could not conceal from others forever and because of that it made him fall apart faster than anything else could. Kenneth knew he had no control over it. And admitting—even if only to himself— that there was something he could not force to just bend to his will by screaming at it loudly enough, was utterly devastating to him.
He’d actually tried screaming at his shy bladder before, as he attempted to pee behind a few bushes with a group of people nearby, and found himself unable to achieve release. He ended up yelling, from both pain and frustration; “WORK, GOD DAMMIT! JUST WORK, YOU STUPID THING! I’M SO SICK OF THIS SHIT!”
Allowing his rage to boil over and lead him into screaming at his body had not resulted in a stream of urine. Go figure. It had, however, resulted in a great deal of laughter and teasing from all who heard it.
“Okay,” Dwight said. “I’m going to help you, is that alright?”
“Make it stop,” Kenneth said quietly, defeated.
“I will,” Dwight promised. “I’ll make it better.” He got into the bed beside Kenneth. “Just have to make you feel safer, that’s all.” He took the blanket and tugged it up around Kenneth’s shoulders, then pulled his friend close and ran his hand down his arm. “Relax, buddy. No one’s coming in here. It’s just us.”
“I can’t—“
“You can,” Dwight said. “You need to. You need to so bad. It will feel good, just take a deep breath.”
Kenneth inhaled shakily.
“Hold it there,” Dwight said, though maybe he shouldn’t be telling Kenneth to ‘hold’ anything right now. He kept stroking his friend’s arm.
“Exhale.”
Kenneth did.
“That’s good. Let’s do that a couple more times, alright?”
On the fourth or fifth time, the irritating drips and dribbles began to change into an actual stream. Urine poured into the bottle, loudly spattering against the thick plastic material. “Nnn…” Kenneth whined.
“That’s good,” Dwight said.
“It’s loud…”
“And no one is around to hear it but me,” Dwight said. “And, I don’t care. Just keep doing that.”
Kenneth tried to blot out the sound of liquid striking plastic, tried to blot out the fact that the noise was coming from him. Hearing such a loud, hissy gush splashing such firm material and knowing that it was his pee was so, so embarrassing. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to blot out everything about the situation.
After a few seconds of that, he realized there was one part he didn’t necessarily want to ignore; This felt really good. He’d been so tense all over for so long, having even just one muscle loosen up was truly Heavenly. It sent tingles of pleasure all across his body. He bit down hard against a moan of relief, aware that Dwight was still right beside him. But, when the next wave of pure, unadulterated good washed over him, he couldn’t hold it back; “Ahhhhhhhhh….” he sighed out, even as his face reddened with embarrassment. He couldn’t control the sounds his mouth made any more than he could control the jet of pee cascading from his tip. The dam had burst, and the torrent wasn’t going to let up until he was completely drained.
Dwight tried not to laugh at the moans and gasps Kenneth couldn’t stop making. Such primal, animalistic sounds were so uncommon to hear from his control-freak best friend. Even other times when Dwight had helped Kenneth relieve his very full bladder, it was rare that it would make him groan like that, especially so loudly. Kenneth looked so relaxed now, his face was tinged pink still, but his eyes were shut, his jaw was slack, he looked more at peace than he ever usually was.
Kenneth felt himself going pinker when he realized the bottle was growing pretty warm and heavy in his hands. Knowing the cause of the sudden change in weight and temperature was how much urine he was pumping it full of made him feel pretty self-conscious about it.
Dwight tried not to say anything to his friend for fear of freezing him back up again, but as the bottle grew fuller and fuller, it became necessary. “Um… Are you close to done?”
“I think so,” Kenneth exhaled. “Why?”
“You’ve… Uh… You’ve nearly filled the container.”
Kenneth opened his eyes now and looked. The urine bottle was massive, and he’d seriously almost filled it to the top, just a tiny bit of space left. He hadn’t seen where Elizabeth had taken it out of, and hoped dearly that the little room left would be enough so he didn’t have to try and hold back the rest while Dwight found a second bottle. He did feel nearly finished, though.
After a few more spurts, he was emptied. The bottle, however, was totally filled to the brim. As he pulled it back away from himself, a few rivulets of urine snaked down from its opening. He wrinkled his brow in disgust at the feeling of it trickling onto his hands. “I—I need the—“
“Right," Dwight said. He retrieved the cap and twisted it onto the bottle Kenneth still held as gently as he could. Still, that tiny amount of jostling had caused the filled receptacle to spill over the top a tiny bit. Dwight took the bottle from Kenneth, who held his hands out away from his body, utterly grossed out. His hands had piss on them. His own piss, sure. But still, it was piss. Dwight better bring him something to disinfect with after he took care of the bottle.
Dwight was looking at the bottle.
Why the Hell was he looking at a bottle of Kenneth’s piss so intently? Kenneth felt himself going redder than ever, “Dwight! Why—“
“I was just— This thing says it holds two liters, Kenneth.”
“So?” Kenneth demanded. “Stop looking at my… You know—“
“It’s just, that means you were holding two liters.” Dwight said, amazement and a touch of worry in his tone. “Jesus… You must have been in agony!”
“I—I was,” Kenneth said. “Is that bad?”
“I don’t… I can’t remember where I heard this. But, I think people can normally hold around half a liter? I know there’s no way I could ever fill this thing up all the way. Are you… okay?”
“I’d be better if you weren’t still holding that bottle!”
“Oh, sorry, yeah. I’ll go empty it… Outside somewhere, I guess.” Dwight said, starting to leave.
“Good!”
“Hope it doesn’t drown the grass or someth—“
“GO!”
Dwight returned a few minutes later. “Elizabeth said to make sure your abdomen is not overly sore.”
“Oh my G— You SHOWED her!?”
“Not on purpose! She saw me carrying it out and just— You’re not super sore, are you?”
“I’m a little tender, yes,” Kenneth said. “But other than that, I feel… Better.”
“You certainly should,” Dwight said. “That was… Honestly impressive. You’re so small, how did you even fit all tha—“
“Dwight, please!?” Kenneth begged. “I do not wish to speak about this any longer!”
“Sorry…”
They both fell silent.
“Jeez, my leg really hurts!” Kenneth exclaimed after a minute.
Dwight did laugh then. “Uh, yeah. You were shot there, remember?”
“I don’t think I really felt it until now…” Kenneth said. “Certain… Other things were far more uncomfortable and pressing.”
“Heh… If you need something else for the pain, I’ll try to help you feel better. Want some help laying back down?”
“Yes, please.” |
This one has a scene depicting child abuse, skip down the asterisk if you don't want to read that.
Kenneth couldn’t wait any longer. He was squirming and holding himself and doing everything he could to keep his pee from coming out, but he was losing the fight and fast. He stared up at his Father, who just shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re looking at me for,” Father said dismissively. “What do you want?”
Kenneth trembled from more than just desperation. Was Father giving him permission to speak? Sometimes, Father did this, he’d ask Kenneth a question, but Kenneth was only allowed to say things if Father had said “Speak.” first, so if Kenneth answered, he’d get hit for talking out-of-turn. But, sometimes Father really did want him to answer, in which case if he didn’t he’d get hit for ignoring him. Kenneth never knew which was expected of him, but he always seemed to choose the wrong thing.
A few seconds passed and Kenneth received a slap in the face; “Answer me when I am talking to you,” Father commanded. “What do you want?”
“May I please use the toilet, Sir?” Kenneth asked.
“No,” Father said. “I have brought you there already today, and you didn’t go.”
Kenneth hadn’t been able to go because Father had been pulling on his hair from behind and screaming at him, but he knew better than to say that. After Kenneth had failed to use the toilet earlier, Father had beaten him so badly that one of his legs was badly swollen. He didn’t want to provoke another attack like that.
“Go somewhere else, and stop fucking staring at me,” Father ordered.
Kenneth did, he took tiny, pained steps into a different room. He crouched in the corner and tried to hold it in. He knew he wouldn’t be able to much longer, though. He hadn’t gone since this morning, before Father was awake, and he needed to go so, so badly now! It hurt so much it was making him start to cry.
Sometimes, Father refused to let Kenneth have any water for long stretches of time. This was miserable; He’d get so thirsty and delirious and sick, he’d feel like he was going to die. But, other times, Father did the opposite. He would make Kenneth drink way more water than anyone could possibly need, and then hold it in until he couldn’t anymore. This was what was being done today.
Kenneth just kept holding it and holding it, watching as the sky turned dark outside the window. That was good. Father would go to sleep soon and Kenneth could sneak to the toilet and go. That was what Kenneth normally had to do; Father would either forbid him from using the toilet altogether, or make it so uncomfortable for him that he couldn’t manage to go, so Kenneth would only be able to relieve himself early in the morning and after dark when Father was asleep. But, often that was too long to wait and he'd wet himself and be punished.
Kenneth listened out as he writhed and squirmed on the floor, listening to Father’s bedroom door shutting and his soft steps as he went to his bed. Then, there was silence. Kenneth made himself wait just a few minutes more, then struggled to get to the restroom. He couldn’t stand up. He was more or less just crawling along the floor as he tried not to have an accident that he knew would get him beaten up again.
He reached the door to the restroom at last, but when he reached to open it, he discovered Father had placed a padlock onto it that could only be opened with a key. Kenneth cried more then, not just from the pain in his abdomen, or from the knowledge that he was going to wet himself and be punished, but just from the sheer cruelty of it all. What had he done to displease his Father so much? So much that he was subject to these sick, unwinnable games?
He just sat on his bunched up knees and cried. His leg hurt from the beating earlier. His bladder hurt from all the urine it was forced to contain. His heart hurt because he knew he was trapped here with a man that wished nothing more than to hurt him for reasons he could not figure out. He wished he knew why. If he knew why, he could make it better. He could make it so Father wouldn’t want to hurt him anymore, if he just knew what he’d done that was so wrong. If he just knew, he could be better and Father would love him.
***
Kenneth woke to find himself staring at the ceiling of the medical building. His heart was pounding and there was dampness in the corners of his eyes. It took him a second to remember himself. That had been a dream, just a dream. But, not really. It had been a memory, and it had been as crisp and clear to him as it had been the day it happened.
The pain in his leg had followed him out of the dream, but he remembered now that it came from a different injury. Another thing had followed him as well; he really had to pee. He knew he still couldn’t get up out of bed, it hadn’t even been a full day of recovery yet. He was going to need to use one of those urine bottles again, which he hoped would be slightly less off-putting the second time around.
But, first he actually needed access to one. Dwight or Elizabeth really should have put one next to the bed in case he woke in the middle of the night needing it, like he had now. But, even if they had, he knew he’d need help getting his body into the right position again. He cringed. It was so utterly humiliating to admit to needing help with anything, but especially to admit to needing help peeing.
He looked to his side, Dwight had promised to stay with him all night in case he needed something, and he had kept the promise. He’d fallen asleep in his chair. Kenneth realized he’d have to wake him up. “Dwight…” Kenneth called out, whispering. He wasn’t sure why he was staying so quiet, the only other person here was the one he was intending to wake up. “Dwight!” He repeated, a little louder.
Dwight’s eyes peeled open slowly. He woke up quite a bit more when he remembered what was happening. “Kenneth?” He asked. “Are you okay? Is the pain getting to you? Do you need more medici—“
“N—No,” Kenneth stammered. “That’s not it… I just…” He shifted as best he could given his circumstances, gripping one hand over one of his knees as he chewed on the knuckles of the other. “I need… Another… One of those bottle-thingies…”
“Oh,” Dwight said. “Not a problem.” He was relieved it wasn’t something more serious. He stood from his seat and began searching the drawers that housed the supplies. He found various medicines, several types of bandages, and other items meant to help mend injuries faster… But, no urine bottles. He opened one drawer and found it empty. He had a suspicion that it was the one the bottles were stored in, but the one Kenneth had filled earlier had been the last one. Just to be sure, Dwight checked the remaining drawers, but it looked like he’d been right. There weren’t any more urine bottles here. He told Kenneth the bad news and noticed a flash of panic pass over his friend’s face for a second; but only for a second.
“Elizabeth will definitely be checking in on you in the morning again. She probably has access to more since she’s got the key to the storage facilities,” Dwight promised. He didn’t really want to ask his next question. Kenneth was so prideful, Dwight couldn’t be certain he’d get an honest answer out of him. “Can you hold off until then?”
“Of course I can!” Kenneth insisted, just as Dwight knew he would. He tried to search his friend’s face for traces of doubt, for a sign that he wasn’t as confident as he was trying to appear, but found nothing. Hopefully, that wasn’t just Kenneth’s pride talking, and he really could wait until morning without issue.
“Okay, that’s good,” Dwight said. “Try to get some more rest, you need it.”
But, Kenneth had trouble getting more rest. Part of it was just not wanting to have another of those nightmares. Part of it was just that he had to go really, really bad. He’d told Dwight he could make it to morning, but he didn’t know for sure. He was so tired, and his bladder muscles were worn out after holding so much earlier in the day. He wanted to cross his legs, and almost did it on instinct. When he began to move the injured one a white hot bolt of pain shot through it. The jolt succeeded in both making him lose a spurt of urine, and in making him gasp from the pain and the shock.
Dwight startled, “Are you okay?”
“Fffine,” Kenneth choked out. He pressed his thighs together to stem the flow from his bladder, and focused on keeping his hurt leg very, very still. “Just… Moved wrong is all.”
“Be careful,” Dwight said.
Kenneth kept all his focus on holding it, and on making sure he didn’t accidentally try to cross his legs again. His hands tucked themselves between his thighs, and that helped a little, but not being able to twist his legs and really squirm was making it extra hard to hold it. He started to worry that he’d have an accident. The last time he’d had an accident, he’d been out standing guard for stupid Bryce all day again and even when he got a break from it, there hadn’t been anywhere private enough for him to actually go. Then, when he got back to his barrack, to the nice, secluded toilet he could manage to make himself use, the belt and buttons of his uniform proved to be too much. He’d soaked himself completely right there in front of the toilet.
This memory made him blush, and it also made him remember how good letting go had felt. As humiliating and gross the feeling of drenching his uniform had been, it had at least ended with him having an empty bladder. Following his thoughts, a burst of liquid forced its way down his shaft and burst through his trembling pee-hole. He squeezed himself even tighter in a panic. He could not have an accident. He just couldn’t. Not with Dwight here, and… Someone would have to help him out of the bed if he had an accident. Someone would have to change the soaked bedding.
Someone would have to help Kenneth change his clothes if he peed in them.
He knew that if he stayed here much longer, he’d likely need a bit of help bathing himself. But, while he knew it would be uncomfortable, the image of Dwight helping him disrobe and just wash himself off a bit wasn’t nearly as mortifying as the image of him stripping off clothing that had been drenched in his pee after he hadn’t been able to hold it. That image was absolutely horrifying. And, it was also very real. Way too real.
The next spurt of pee that shoved its way through his anxious grip made it seem even more real. He tugged his belt apart to give his bladder more space to expand. But, the relief from that lasted only an instant. So, he tore at his buttons and zip, plunging his hands into his pants to grip himself at the base of his cock with one hand, while trying to pinch his opening shut with the other. He was gonna explode.
He cringed as he prepared to speak. Admitting that he couldn’t hold it much longer was going to be embarrassing, but not nearly as embarrassing as actually not being able to hold it would be. “D—Dwight?” Kenneth called again.
His friend had fallen back asleep.
“Dwight!” Kenneth said, loud and panicked.
Dwight startled awake. “Wha—Yes?”
“Is there…” Kenneth swallowed back a moan as he felt more liquid trickle out of him. “Is there anything else I can use?”
“Use?” Dwight repeated blearily. “For wh—“
“To… To, um… To… You know… Instead of the… bottle…”
Dwight realized that Kenneth’s need must have reached a pretty fevered pitch. Kenneth did not admit to not being able to do things, so if he was admitting to not being able to wait until morning… Well, he really, really, really couldn’t wait until morning.
But, Dwight didn’t know what to do! The only bottles in any of the drawers had medicine in them, and Dwight was pretty sure he’d get into a whole heap of shit if he dumped out a bunch of medicine so that Kenneth could piss into the empty containers. He wished he could just take Kenneth outside and have him take a leak on the ground somewhere, but Kenneth couldn’t stand, much less walk. There was a window beside Kenneth’s bed, but Kenneth would have to at least get onto his knees in bed to pee out of it, and that wasn’t an option with his leg.
Kenneth was staring at him with big, wide, pleading eyes. Dwight felt awful. Kenneth needed his help so bad, and he couldn’t think of anything to do for him to make it better! There was nothing in here that—
Dwight stopped panicking. He’d been focusing only on what was in his immediate surroundings because he knew Kenneth was trapped in here. But, Dwight wasn’t. Dwight could stand and walk around. Sure, he couldn’t take Kenneth outside for a pee, but maybe he could find something outside that Kenneth could use.
“Wait here,” Dwight said. “I’ll go try to find you something.”
Kenneth glowered at Dwight, “‘Wait here’,” he repeated. “Like I have a choice.”
Dwight knew Kenneth wasn’t annoyed with him, just with the situation, so he just patted his friend’s shoulder and promised he’d be back as soon as he could— Hopefully with something that would help.
Dwight dashed outside and glanced around. The medical building was surrounded by foliage, bushes and trees that would have made excellent urinals if Kenneth could actually get to them. But, he couldn’t, so they were worthless. There had to be something around here. He felt nearly as desperate now as Kenneth must have. He knew he didn’t have much time. If his friend had an accident it would completely devastate him. He started walking in a random direction. It was hard to find something when you weren’t entirely sure what you were looking for. He just needed something, anything that could hold a lot of liquid.
He found it.
Outside the barracks, there were small oak barrels that were used for storage, but many of them tended to remain empty. He ran over to these and picked up one of the smallest ones that he knew would be easiest to carry. Even if it was the smallest size, he knew it would be enough; It was five gallons. If Kenneth could overflow that, then he was a contender for the eighth wonder of the world.
Dwight carried it back to the medical building as quickly as he could, then set it down beside Kenneth’s bed. Kenneth was in a bad state, his hands were beneath the sheets, but Dwight knew they were probably glued between his legs, and his face was the picture of agony. “Okay,” Dwight said. “I’ve found you something. It’s gonna be okay. Let me help you up.”
Kenneth barely reacted to having his body manipulated this time. Dwight knew he was embarrassed about needing this help, but must have been in such a severe state of need his modesty and sense of pride was taking a backseat to the all-consuming urge to just go. Dwight was surprised when he saw Kenneth had already taken his clothing apart, and that his dick was already out. He tried not to look there, feeling his face heat up. He tried not to think of how, when it wasn’t dripping and leaking and being clutched onto for dear life, Kenneth had a pretty nice looking dick…
Dwight had to help Kenneth part his legs a bit more than before so the barrel could be placed between them. By the time Kenneth was in the right position, he was sitting over the edge of the bed with his legs splayed apart, and the barrel in the center. “Okay!” Dwight said at last, he sat down beside Kenneth and rubbed his arm as before to help him relax. “Now, I know this is difficult for you, but remember, it’s just us here, and I’m not g—“
Before Dwight could even really begin his speech intended to soothe his friend’s shy bladder, piss was spattering into the barrel full force. Dwight had never seen Kenneth start peeing that fast before. It usually took him at least a minute to soothe himself and let it flow, even if none of his usual shyness triggers were around to give him anxiety. Often, when Kenneth got frozen up in an unfamiliar or stressful situation, Dwight would have to rub his arm and say calming things to him for several minutes before anything came out. He must have seriously needed it this time…
Nevertheless, Dwight kept rubbing his arm to encourage him. “Heh, I… Guess you didn’t need as much help relaxing as you normally do…”
“It’s… just you…” Kenneth murmured with a sigh. “Ahhh… I trust you…”
Dwight felt weirdly honored that Kenneth trusted him so much he could empty his bladder so easily in his presence. He continued massaging Kenneth’s arm. It felt a little awkward, the two of them going silent, the only sound in the room being Kenneth’s pee splashing against itself in the bottom of the barrel. Dwight didn’t know if talking to him would make it more awkward or less awkward. He didn’t really know what to say, anyway.
After a few more seconds of gushing, Kenneth did speak though. “Um… Thank you,” he said, a little quietly through his embarrassment. He rested his head against Dwight and let his eyes go shut. He felt so much better, and he knew he’d be overcome with humiliation once the feelings of relief faded, but for now he just wanted to enjoy it. “Thank you…” he repeated as a full-body shudder tore through him, his stream at last winding down. He shook off a few times and started to put his clothes back together.
Dwight helped him lay back down again and put his leg up. He put the barrel into one corner of the room, in case Kenneth needed it again. Kenneth’s head popped back up from the pillow a second later, “Er… Don’t tell anyone about… What transpired tonight. Okay?”
“Eheh, don’t worry. I won’t,” Dwight promised. |
One of my first times writing something in third person where two people are getting super desperate at once. Hope I divide attention between them okay.
***
Unlike Kenneth, Dwight could basically pee wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. As a child, before he understood anything about ‘social codes’ and he and Kenneth had gone to play in the woods together, often he’d just pull down his pants and start peeing wherever he was, right in front of Kenneth. He rarely even gave any warning that he was about to do that, causing Kenneth to spin around sharply on his heels with a furious blush on his face.
Dwight didn’t do anything quite that extreme anymore, but he wasn’t picky about where he took a leak at all. If he had to go, he’d go the instant an option presented itself. While this meant he didn’t get desperate as often as his pee-shy best friend did, it also meant he didn’t often hold it for very long. So, when there was no option and he just had to hold it, it wasn’t very easy for him to do.
He honestly couldn’t stand the feeling of needing to pee, the tingling in his midsection would quickly become impossible to ignore and overtake everything else. He didn’t know how Kenneth lasted sunrise to sunset without a pee break so many days. He understood it was to do with his shyness, that he just didn’t have a choice in the matter a lot of the time, but it must have been miserable. Dwight was pretty sure if he had to restrain himself for that long all the time he’d go insane.
When he was ordered to stand guard somewhere, he’d need to pee several times before he could leave. But, for him it wasn’t too big an issue to simply turn around for a moment and let it out. When he didn’t have any option for relief whatsoever, that was when he had a problem.
And, right now, he didn’t have any options, and he’d already been holding it for much longer than he usually would.
They were taking a very long ride on a train, him Kenneth, and Bryce. And, the train had no toilet facilities. Dwight wasn’t averse to ‘improvising’ in a pinch, it wasn’t a big deal to him if he had to fill a bottle or other container to get the relief he needed. But, even if he had such a container, Bryce was here; His commander was here.
It didn’t matter that they weren’t on-duty at the moment, they were still in-uniform, and Bryce would be furious if Dwight took a leak into a bottle in the middle of a train while he was supposed to be ‘representing’ them properly. If Dwight did that, he knew Bryce would discipline him somehow, probably with a strenuous exercise or some other form of misery
Dwight was angry at himself for not going before they’d left like Kenneth had done; Dwight supposed that was one good thing about having a shy bladder, Kenneth never ever forgot to pee before going somewhere.
But, Dwight forgot to pee before leaving a place all the time. He just didn’t think about going ‘just in case’, like Kenneth had to. If he didn’t feel a need to go, it wouldn’t cross his mind at all.
Dwight looked out the window, but the outside was barren and gave no clue as to how much longer the journey was gonna be. That was the worst part; If he knew he’d have somewhere to go in twenty minutes, then he’d know he could hold it. But, what if he had to stay here and wait for another hour? What if he had to stay here and wait for another two?
He crossed his legs at the ankles and tried to think about something else. He hoped Bryce, sitting in the seat across from him and Kenneth, didn’t notice that his legs were crossed. Bryce insisted that those below him had to present themselves in an adequately dignified way whenever their uniforms were on. But, it was just really, really hard to look dignified when you badly needed to pee.
Dwight didn’t want Kenneth to notice how desperate he was getting, either. Like Bryce, Kenneth cared a lot about ‘appearances’, and the last thing Dwight wanted was for Kenneth to find him shameful or embarrassing for something outside of his control. So, Dwight just sat there, hoping no one could figure out why he was crossing his legs so tightly, and tried to hold on. At one point he brought one foot over the other and it began to shake.
Bryce did notice then. He peered over his newspaper; “Smith, please sit properly, would you? Keep your feet on the floor where they belong.”
“O—Okay…” Dwight cringed as he tried to obey the command. His fingers dug into the edge of his seat. “How much longer?”
Bryce exhaled; “Are you a child? We’ll get there when we get there. Be patient.”
“S—Sorry,” Dwight replied meekly.
Kenneth smiled at his friend. He was getting awful tired of sitting in one place, too. He too wanted to move around and was feeling restless. He didn’t like to stay still, he was pretty much always moving in some way. If he didn’t, he felt so pent-up and jittery that it was like his skin was crawling and filled with pins and needles.
Dwight was normally far less restless, though. But, there he was, squeezing the edge of his seat, pulling his feet backward beneath it before kicking them out in front of him, twisting and turning every few seconds.
It was okay for them to get up and walk around a little. Kenneth was dying to move, and obviously Dwight was too. “Bryce,” Kenneth said. “Dwight and I are going to go look around for a few minutes, okay?” he asked.
“Just so long as you return before we arrive at our stop,” Bryce said.
Kenneth eagerly shot to his feet, and Dwight did the same. But, he did so much slower, wincing as he tried to pull himself to his full-height. His feet must have fallen asleep, Kenneth decided.
They walked around the train for a little bit. Dwight was hopeful that he’d been incorrect about the lack of toilet facilities onboard. Maybe there was something he could use after all, but he didn’t see any sign of one. He’d held it long enough now that he was getting annoyed. The feeling of heaviness beneath his buttons and fly was getting downright exhausting. “Kenneth, have you seen any restrooms here?”
“No,” Kenneth said. “But, I wasn’t really looking.”
“It’s just… I have to use one pretty badly right now,” Dwight said.
“Dwight, there are people present,” Kenneth scolded. “Don’t talk about such—“
“Kenneth, it’s urgent,” Dwight interrupted, shimmying his feet in place.
“I told you to go before we left,” Kenneth said.
“No, you didn’t,” Dwight corrected. “You told me to make sure I packed your favorite blanket before we left. Then after I did that, you told me to hurry so we wouldn’t be late and Bryce wouldn’t yell at us again.”
“Oh,” Kenneth said. “Guess I didn’t tell you to pee, then… But, you still should have gone. You shouldn’t need me to remind you.”
“Well, sorry I forget things sometimes!”
Kenneth winced at Dwight’s sudden outburst. That was the sort of thing he would never, ever do. He almost never snapped at anyone, especially not at Kenneth.
“S—Sorry,” Dwight said. He wouldn’t normally be so volatile, but a burning urge to urinate could do that to a person. “I didn’t mean to sound angry. I just… Have to go so bad.”
Kenneth sighed, “It’s okay… Try to hold on, though. We should be there soon, and hopefully then it will be easy enough to find you a restroom.”
Dwight slowly nodded and he and Kenneth returned to their seats. Dwight was glad Kenneth knew what was wrong and cared about him, but Dwight didn’t have much faith in himself to keep waiting. He just wasn’t used to holding it for so long. It had been hours and hours since his last pee, and his belt was so tight around his midsection that he felt like he was going to split in two.
Another half hour passed, and Dwight was both terrified and miserable. The last time he’d needed to empty his bladder this badly, it had been when he’d been in the tent with Kenneth and his friend had refused to wake up and let go of him. He remembered how that had nearly ended in a total accident, and how drenched he’d managed to get his boxers before at last being able to gush it out.
At least that time, it had been at night. Kenneth had been the only one to see the evidence of how he hadn’t totally made it. By the time morning came, his boxers had dried off and when he put the rest of his clothes on, no one could tell anything had happened.
If that happened again here, he’d flood all of his clothing with what felt like gallons and gallons of liquid, and it would be very visible to everyone around him. And, jeez, he couldn’t imagine the Hell Bryce would rain down upon him if he had an accident while in uniform with people around to witness it. No, Dwight would do whatever it took not to pee his uniform.
But, he didn’t know if he even had what it took. He was already dribbling. The trickles that managed to shove their way past his muscles would have been okay on their own, but he couldn’t make them stop coming and he knew it wouldn’t take long for them to build up. Soon enough, it would be enough to leave a visible wet spot.
When the next spasm tore through him, he pressed his hands against himself, gripping tight. His face burned, but the pressure of his hands was actually managing to cut off his dribbling. He could make it a while longer if he kept them where they were.
Bryce noticed, though. “Smith, that is entirely indecent. For the love of God, do not touch those areas of your person in public. Behave like a civilized human being, would you?”
Dwight couldn’t move his hands though, not even after being ordered to. “Are we almost there?” he asked.
Bryce sighed, “I gather you are needing to relieve yourself? Is that what all the fuss is about? Show some restraint. You will wait to handle your needs until it is more convenient.”
“I can’t, I’m about to—“
“If you soil yourself,” Bryce began. “The consequences will be dire, I promise you. Now, move your hands and at least pretend to have some sense of dignity.”
Dwight whimpered as he let go of himself, he stuck his hands beneath his thighs to try and keep them from going back to his groin on instinct alone.
“Bryce,” Kenneth began. “I don’t suppose there are any facilities onboard, are there?”
“No, Paulson. There are not,” Bryce said. “Smith will just have to contain himself like a big boy until we arrive.”
Kenneth had seen Dwight desperate lots of times, but never when he had no choice but to remain still and unmoving as he just endured wave after wave of pulsing need. Kenneth really hoped Dwight could make it. Not just because his friend having an accident would make him look bad, as Dwight had thought, but because Kenneth was capable of caring for another human being. He didn’t want his dear friend to have to suffer and be humiliated.
More time passed. Kenneth was trying to distract Dwight, but talking to him and paying such heavy attention to him had had little effect on making Dwight’s bladder less painful to hold. Instead, watching Dwight squirm and sweat, hearing him whimpering with need, had just made Kenneth’s own bladder start to feel full and uncomfortable. Like Dwight’s absolute desperation was somehow contagious.
When Kenneth realized that his need had built itself up to a rather severe level, he had to fight down a bit of panic. This wasn’t good. How much longer were they gonna be stuck on this train? And, what if when he could finally get off, he couldn’t find anywhere that was private enough? What if the restroom at the station was crowded and noisy or, worse, non-existent and he had to try to take a leak outdoors instead? If that happened, Kenneth knew he would not be able to go, he’d have to keep holding it until he found somewhere that was private. But, what if he couldn’t find anywhere at all? How long would he be stuck restraining himself if that was the case?
He tried not to think about all that. Hopefully, there’d be some place he could actually pee. And, hopefully that place would present itself in the near future. Because, speaking of ‘restraining himself’ it was becoming increasingly difficult not to show signs of need. This was terrible, having to endure something that was both physically and mentally exhausting, something that consumed the entirety of his body and mind but could not even be spoken about. He could not squirm, he could not beg, he could not even say the words “I have to pee!” without being overcome with untold amounts of humiliation.
All he could do was endure. He had to endure not just the physical sensations of his desperation, but the assault coming from within his imagination as well. Because, against his will, Kenneth had begun to fantasize. He’d begun to seriously fantasize and daydream not of battles, or of seeing the world, or anything truly exciting. But, instead just about the simple act of urinating.
He imagined himself standing safe and alone, enjoying the marvelous bliss of release; leaning himself against the wall for support as he groaned with the sheer pleasure that just not having to hold back anymore provided. He imagined the amazing feeling that would ripple through his body, every nerve and synapse inside of him firing off and being flooded with pure pleasure.
It was too much, and his legs snapped together unbidden. He fought hard not to cross them, just to press them against each other, squeezing them from the tips of his toes all the way up into his thighs. He thought about telling Dwight that he had to go as well now, so perhaps he would feel less alone in his agony. But Bryce was there and could overhear, and Kenneth shuddered at the thought of how embarrassing that would be.
Dwight, however, was able to tell his friend needed to go. He may have been able to hold himself with a bit more subtlety than Dwight could when dealing with a full bladder, but Kenneth always bit his knuckles when he was desperate; And, right now, he was gnawing the absolute crap out of them. Dwight winced, he was going to hurt himself with how ferociously he was doing that…
Dwight would have tried to pry Kenneth’s hand away from his mouth, but Dwight hadn’t the presence of mind to do it. His urethra was stinging, practically vibrating as it tried not to allow anything more to come through. Still, more did come through. He wouldn’t be surprised if, when he was finally able to get out of this seat, there was a small patch of dampness left beneath him. His bladder was dying. This was a torture he could scarcely endure any longer. It was impossible. It was too much. A person’s bladder couldn’t hold an infinite quantity, and this was just too much. He couldn’t make it. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t.
He’d begun to hold himself again, without truly realizing he’d done so. Both hands were trying to grasp hold of his member through the material of his uniform. It wasn’t easy to get a good grip, and he could feel dampness against his palms as he pressed.
Kenneth was just as miserable, his bladder just so goddamn full it was painful. But, he was determined to continue waiting out, and he was determined to do so with dignity. He would not twist. He would not squirm. He would certainly not hold hims—
It had started.
Kenneth had thought at first it was just another angry jolt by his bladder, another desperate, pleading order that Kenneth would be forced to try to ignore. But, it wasn’t that. There was dampness. A tiny, nearly undetectable leak of liquid, sliding quickly and warmly past his worn out urethra. It lasted even less than a second, but it sent a bolt of shame and terror through his body.
He proceeded to do the very things he’d sworn not but a moment ago that he would absolutely not do. He coiled his legs around one another totally. It provided him no relief. His hands joined the battle, squeezing down tight against his overworked pee-hole. His eyes squeezed shut, embarrassment flooding his veins; He was clutching himself like a child before his commander once again. And this time there were even more witnesses around him on the train. So many people to see him coming apart. So many people to make up the audience for his ultimate humiliation should he allow his poor, tired, overtaxed muscles to ease even slightly.
Finally, finally, the train stopped. Dwight could feel an alarming amount of wetness around his length. Kenneth, while significantly dryer as he’d managed to keep it together after his first leak, still felt like he might cry.
Bryce got off the train easily, but his desperate subordinates had a little trouble. Kenneth was walking on stiff legs which, granted, almost made him look like he was marching…. Albeit, a little erratically. He tried to walk completely upright, but his spine would only cooperate for a few steps, before he began to double over again.
Bryce, unaware of why Kenneth was walking in such a way, was actually a little pleased to see it…Kenneth really should try and straighten his back out a bit more, though, he thought.
Dwight, however, stumbled about, walking pigeon-toed, hands grasping between his legs. It was getting to be next to impossible to move at all without squeezing every drop of liquid inside of his bloated bladder out into his clothes. He could do nothing but force himself forward with mincing, contorted steps in the direction that he hoped would lead him to some kind of relief.
“Okay,” Bryce said once they were before him. Dwight was jumping up and down in place and Bryce glowered at him to knock it off, but his icy glare didn’t have the desired effect.
Kenneth was biting so hard on the knuckle of his index finger that he tasted the metallic tang of blood on his tongue. He, rather pathetically, tried to keep his appearance neutral, but his hunched over posture refused to be corrected and he was bending at his knees, which were pointed into one another.
Bryce continued, “So, now that we are here, we should get to—“
“Bryce!” Dwight interrupted. He had spotted the station’s restroom and his bladder had started to give out just at the mere sight of it. He was dribbling like crazy again and had no choice but to grip his dick to try and put a stop to it. It didn’t work so well, he was only able to restrain a couple of the gushes, with many more managing to seep through anyway.
Bryce groaned, “Must you waste our time? Restrain yourself until we are—“
“I can’t!” Dwight begged.
Kenneth tried not to look at how much Dwight was jumping around, tried not to hear the pained urgency in his voice. And tried very, very hard not to hear the brief hisses that were making their way into Dwight’s clothing. It was all making Kenneth have to go so much worse. It was causing Kenneth’s bladder to tremble and throb and push downwards toward his opening. He pressed his heels together, trying to pin himself closed between his thighs. When his bladder spasmed violently, his blood chilled with fear. He bent backward at the waist a little now, in an attempt to give his bladder more space. Doubling over had begun to have the opposite effect; had only compressed his bladder and made it all the harder to manage. This all made him appear as though he was standing in one of the very precise, rigid positions that Bryce preferred his subordinates adopted.
“Paulson is able to behave in a dignified way,” Bryce pointed out. “Which is… Rare, I admit. You should take notes from him.”
Kenneth didn’t want to admit that the only reason he was standing like that with his heels together and toes pointed out was because he needed to piss like a racehorse that had chugged ten cups of coffee. But, perhaps doing so would get both him and his friend the relief they needed? If Bryce knew that they both had to take a break, maybe he’d be more lenient about it? “A—Actually, Bryce. I, um… Would like a moment to… Freshen up as well.”
“God, you talk like an old woman sometimes, you pretentious little… Fine! You have five minutes, don’t make me wait.”
Kenneth winced at the time-limit. He… Well, he didn’t ‘work’ well if he was under pressure. Trying to ‘hurry’ made it even harder for him to relax his bladder. And the fact this was a public place was already bound to make that difficult for him. He couldn’t hold it much longer, though. It was starting to hurt really badly. He took several more stiff steps in the direction of the restroom, having to help his even more desperate friend along a little.
Kenneth realized Dwight was already unclasping his belt and working at his buttons before they got to the door designating the restroom. Kenneth wondered if he ought to do the same. The last time he’d had an accident, it had been because he couldn’t get his uniform apart fast enough as he stood at the toilet. But… There were people here… They might notice…
Kenneth shoved open the door and held it there for Dwight. Kenneth was a little relieved when he saw the restroom was only for a single occupant. And, even if he was here with Dwight, he didn’t usually have any trouble going in front of him. Except… It was really, really noisy outside.
Kenneth’s hands went up to his belt and he unclasped it, hurriedly making work of his buttons. He muttered to himself as he did so. Dwight picked up on the noise outside. “I’ll… Do that thing with your arm to calm you down,” he said, he was trying very hard not to look at the corner where the toilet was. He was stamping his feet and twisting around almost comically in place. Drips were still seeping from his cock and Kenneth could see how soaked his boxers were now that his uniform was open. “Just… Can I please go first? Please? I’m about to—“
“Yes,” Kenneth said, still working on his buttons with shaking, desperate hands— God, why did this uniform even need so many buttons? It was so unnecessary! Now that he and Dwight were alone, he’d allowed his legs to cross again and was bobbing up and down just the slightest bit. “Go ahead.”
“Thank you!” Dwight exclaimed. He whirled around to face the toilet and aimed his dribbling member. The steady, pulsing leaks instantly transformed into a massive, gushing geyser of relief. The room was small, but the walls were made from a material that echoed fiercely. The sound of Dwight’s stream pounding the water sounded implausibly loud to Kenneth, as did the absolutely euphoric cry of relief that fell from his lips.
Kenneth at last pulled his zip down. When he did that, it was like a reflex. The sensation of lowering his zipper mixed with the sight and sound of Dwight’s release made a thin, slow trickle of urine wet the front of Kenneth’s boxers. “Ah!” he cried in a panic, hands diving to clutch his cock. He suddenly felt like he couldn’t hold it one second more! It didn’t matter that he could hear people outside! His bladder was splitting apart, his dam was shattering. Dwight needed to hurry!
Kenneth suppressed the urge to beg Dwight to do exactly that. Dwight deserved to enjoy his relief, and Kenneth was too embarrassed to shout at him that he wasn’t gonna make it. A few more seconds passed, and Kenneth couldn’t stem his flow. “D—Dwight!” Kenneth exclaimed. “P—Please hur—“ He stopped. “Move over!”
“What?”
“Just— Move over a little!? Please!?”
Confused, Dwight did as Kenneth asked and moved to one side. He didn’t know what the issue was until Kenneth was suddenly right beside him and gushing full force into the bowl. He inhaled and exhaled heavily as he fought to catch his breath. “Th—Thank you…” he said.
Dwight had certainly not expected Kenneth to do that… Really, that was one of the last things Dwight would ever expect Kenneth to do. Even if Kenneth could go around him most of the time, he’d never been comfortable enough to pee side by side with anyone. And, they were very close together now. Even closer than they’d be if they were using two urinals that were right next to each other. They were so close their shoulders touched and brushed together. Yet, Kenneth was peeing as though he hadn’t gone in days.
They were both peeing like they’d been holding it for months. The sound of both their long-held streams pounding into the water was ridiculously loud in the tiny, echoey room. Kenneth seemed to remember himself a bit once his bladder had been draining for a while. “I can’t believe I’m doing this…”
Dwight couldn’t either, really. His self-conscious, uptight best friend was unleashing the most forceful stream of piss Dwight had ever seen right beside him. “Um… I can’t believe you were holding all that without dancing around as much as I was…”
“Believe me, it was…” Kenneth paused to moan. “Ohhh… It was really, really hard not to.”
Dwight gave another sigh, enjoying the feeling of relief that kept colliding into him. He remembered something he’d wanted to do with Kenneth when they were kids, but had never been able to since his friend had always been so shy. Now seemed to be his chance. He directed his stream a bit so it met Kenneth’s.
“What are you doing?” Kenneth asked.
“I wanted to swordfight with you,” Dwight said.
“That’s disgusting, you idiot,” Kenneth said, but he crossed his stream over Dwight’s a second later.
They kept pouring for quite a while, and it was a good thing they’d ended up going together, otherwise they definitely would have taken more than the five minutes Bryce had granted them. At last, Kenneth was empty and Dwight followed suit a few seconds later. Kenneth opened his mouth, but Dwight cut him off; “I know. I won’t tell anyone. Promise.”
Edited May 28, 2021 by segaface
(see edit history) |
I debated posting this one for a bit, as it's set when the characters are younger and the content is almost entirely hurt/comfort. It was also written a lot longer ago than the other stories posted here were, kind of as vent-art. Hopefully someone enjoys it though.
***
Kenneth had been standing in front of this tree for at least fifteen minutes now. Doubtless, Dwight was starting to wonder what he was doing that was taking so long. He needed to leave soon, to go back to his friend. But, he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay here until he no longer had to pee. Until his bladder was nice and empty and comfortable. But, it was becoming increasingly apparent that he couldn’t have that.
He rubbed a hand below his navel, resulting in pain instead of a stream. He was actually jumping from one foot to the other, doing a full-blown pee-dance, in spite of the fact that nothing should have prevented him from going where he stood. He was just so frustrated! Why was this so hard? Dwight could pee easily, so why couldn’t Kenneth?
Kenneth had to go so bad it made him want to cry. He didn’t understand. He knew this happened when Father was there yelling at him, but Father wasn’t with him now, so why couldn’t he go? Why did every sound that pulsed through the forest make him clench and tighten with fear, make his bladder lock itself up more and more? Every time he heard something, he’d whirl around, certain someone was watching him, disgusted by the fact he was trying to pee outside; Or worse, judging him for not even being able to do it.
After a couple more minutes, Kenneth just gave up. He buttoned his pants back up, completely full and unrelieved. He stumbled back to the clearing where Dwight was. “Did you get lost?” Dwight asked.
Kenneth nodded, blushing and trying not to squirm as his bladder pounded with such urgent need. Dwight thought he’d just peed, after all. It wouldn’t make much sense if he kept dancing around like he was about to burst. And, the last thing he wanted was for Dwight to find out that he was broken; That he couldn’t simply pee like a normal person. They’d only been friends for a few months, and if Dwight found out Kenneth was broken, then Kenneth was sure he’d ditch him in a heartbeat and Kenneth would be left with no one at all.
Maybe that was silly, but Kenneth was just so certain of it that he didn’t dare risk it. So, he decided to just hold it. He’d hold it until tomorrow morning, when Dwight would take him back inside. There, Kenneth could use a nice, private toilet that no one ever bothered him in, and oh what a wonderful relief that would be!
He pressed his thighs together, trying not to think about how good letting go tomorrow would feel. He still had to make it through the night, after all.
Dwight laid down in the grass and Kenneth did the same beside him. When he laid down on his back, it felt like the skin over his bladder was being stretched as it struggled to contain it. He whimpered quietly.
“Are you okay?” Dwight asked, having heard his friend’s distressed noises.
“Fine,” Kenneth insisted. He hoped Dwight fell asleep fast, because then he’d be able to squirm and hold onto himself.
“Is the ground uncomfortable?” Dwight asked. “Sorry, I don’t have stuff. I thought it would be okay to just sleep outside. But, if you’re sore we can go back inside instead.”
Kenneth almost leapt on the opportunity. The grass wasn’t too uncomfortable, it actually felt kind of nice on all the sore spots in his back from times his Father had hurt him. But, Kenneth absolutely needed to go inside. He didn’t want to ruin Dwight’s fun, though… “I’m okay for now.”
“Alright,” Dwight said. “Goodnight, Kenneth.”
“Goodnight, Dwight.”
Dwight drifted off to sleep easily, but was woken several times by all the tossing and turning his friend was doing. The last time he was woken up, Kenneth had been shaking him. “Move your leg!” Kenneth begged desperately.
Dwight sat up and crossed his legs underneath himself. He looked over to his friend, seeing him doubled over and clutching between his thighs. “Oh, God… Did I kick you in the— I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!”
“K—Kind of,” Kenneth answered, his voice tight. Everything about Kenneth was tight. His spine was filled with tension, his legs were knotted, his hands were pinned against himself… He was so tense it looked like he was vibrating. Dwight was confused for a moment, it didn’t look like he’d just been kicked in the junk anymore, it looked like something else entirely was bothering him.
Kenneth felt himself burning with embarrassment. He couldn’t believe he was writhing around like this with Dwight right there watching him. He was trying so hard to stop, to move his hands away from himself, to straighten his legs, to pretend everything was fine. But, he just couldn’t. He hadn’t been able to fall asleep for even a minute, his bladder so full and agonizing that he couldn’t manage to relax himself enough. Then, a few minutes ago, Dwight’s leg had come to rest itself overtop of Kenneth’s midsection and he’d nearly exploded from the pressure. Sure, waking Dwight had gotten him to move his leg, but now he was looking at him, staring, trying to figure out what was wrong!
Kenneth tried to come up with an explanation for why he was so coiled up and upset, when Dwight just asked outright; “Do you have to take a leak?”
Kenneth tried to suppress the intense blush he was sure was lighting up his face. He hoped the dark of the night was enough to conceal it. “I… Yes,” he said.
“Go then,” Dwight said.
Kenneth sighed. He was stuck now. Cornered. Dwight could tell he was ready to pop, and Kenneth was to the point he couldn’t just step off for a few minutes and come back to pretend he’d gone. He wouldn’t be able to stop his pee-dancing. It would be obvious that he still had to go really badly. This was it. “I… Can’t,” he mumbled, feeling horridly awkward.
Dwight was more confused now. “What do you mean? Of course you can.” He didn’t add that it looked as if Kenneth was about to do it right where he was crouching.
Kenneth hesitated even more. “No. I can’t.”
“You’re… Afraid of the dark?” Dwight guessed, groping for some kind of explanation.
“Nah—No!” Kenneth insisted. “That’s not it!”
“Then what’s—“
“I just can’t, alright?” Kenneth muttered, almost as desperate to avoid having to give an explanation as he was to relieve himself.
“You…You need help standing up!” Dwight decided. “That’s it? I’ll help y—“
“No,” Kenneth said. “That’s not it, either. I just can’t! That’s all there is to it.”
“Kenneth, I don’t understand.”
“I don’t, either,” Kenneth said, he was trembling even more fiercely. God, he’d give anything to pee! This was torture! It felt like he was going to cry! It felt like his tears would be made of urine!
Now, Dwight sighed. “Could you at least try to explain why you’re so upset? You obviously need to pee, so why don’t you go?”
Kenneth turned away from Dwight, “It’s… I don’t know why. I just can't. I just… It doesn’t work. I tried to go earlier before we went to sleep, and I kept hearing all these noises, and I just… It wouldn’t come out.”
Dwight paused. He remembered one incident that had happened to him a while ago. He’d locked himself into the restroom and was about to start peeing, when one of the children who bullied him began smacking his hands onto the door as hard as he could and hollering at him to hurry up. It had bothered Dwight, messed with his concentration, made him even feel a little frightened, and… He wasn’t able to go.
That had freaked Dwight out a bit, since it had never happened to him before. Every other time when he went to pee, he’d just pee. He didn’t have to think about it, he didn’t have to try to relax anything; It just came out. But, that time it had just been too stressful. He’d had to give up and just come back later.
So, did Kenneth just have that all the time or something?
God, that must have been just awful! Feeling that way just one time had been frightening to Dwight, he couldn’t imagine having to endure it every single time he needed to pee! “Oh,” Dwight said finally. “You mean you… Can’t.”
Kenneth nodded miserably. “I’m sorry. I’m just… Stupid. I’m terrible at everything. I can’t even pee right.”
“Hey, no. You’re not stupid,” Dwight said, trying to comfort him. “Don’t think that way. You just need…” He paused. What did Kenneth need? Well, he needed to pee, obviously. But, if Kenneth’s problem was as bad as it sounded, what could Dwight do to help make that happen? “It’s late, nobody should be out here, but… Would you feel more comfortable if I stood behind you and kept watch?”
Kenneth was stunned. Dwight wasn’t making fun of him. Dwight wasn’t yelling at him. Dwight wasn’t insisting that something was horribly wrong with him or calling him any of the awful names his Father always did. Dwight wanted to help? “You would do that?”
Dwight wondered why Kenneth was so shocked by the offer. It had seemed the most natural thing to do for him, like the kind of thing any friend would do. “Of course I will. Do you think it would help?”
“I think so,” Kenneth said, he struggled to stand up, now very eager to get moving if there was even a tiny chance he might actually get some relief. He started to leak when he got to his feet and he squeezed himself tighter.
Oh, wow… He really has to go… Dwight thought as he watched Kenneth fighting against gravity to avoid an accident. Of course, it had been obvious before that he was having an emergency, but now it was clear Dwight didn’t have much time to get him to an okay spot. He had, like, a minute. Tops.
Thank goodness they were in a forest. Lots of places to go.
Dwight shot to his feet and came to stand beside Kenneth. He noticed something else then. Kenneth’s shirt was torn at the bottom, and there was a very visible bump there. Kenneth was incredibly skinny, so the bump was totally out of place. Is… Is that his bladder? Dwight asked himself. That idea was frightening. Jeez, how long had Kenneth been making himself hold it?
No time to wonder about that, for now he just had to help Kenneth. He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder and directed him a few contorted steps over to a bush. It was too close to where they’d been sleeping, but they could just sleep somewhere else for the rest of the night. He wasn’t about to force Kenneth to walk any further. “Go here,” Dwight said, he stood right at Kenneth’s back. “I’ll keep watch.”
He heard Kenneth’s zipper being pulled down and waited for the gushing sound of a broken faucet that was sure to follow.
But, there was nothing.
Nothing, that was, but an anguished cry that tore through Kenneth’s throat.
Dwight spun around. “Kenneth, are you—“
“I can’t do it!” Kenneth interrupted. “I can’t! It hurts so much, Dwight! God, I’m so stupid! I’m so stupid I can’t even do the most basic things! I can’t even pee! What kind of broken excuse for a person can’t even—“
“Kenneth,” Dwight interrupted. His heart sank. He had a suspicion that the words Kenneth was using hadn’t been his own invention. They were more likely things his Father had repeated to him on various occasions. “Shh,” Dwight hushed. “It’s okay. You’re not broken, okay? You’re scared. That’s different. And, I’m here. You’re safe when I’m here, remember?”
Kenneth was breathing strangely, almost hyperventilating. He wanted this to stop. He’d do anything for this to stop. The fear flowing through his veins, cascading through all of his nerves and setting them on fire. The shame pulsing through his mind and blotting out all other thoughts, blotting out all rationality and reason. The indescribable, practically insanity-inducing torture that had encompassed his entire lower half. He just… He just wanted to pee. It was all he wanted. Why was that so much to ask for?
“Kenneth…” Dwight repeated his name. He was panicked now, too. He didn’t know what to do, and obviously his friend was suffering some intense anguish. He thought about taking Kenneth back inside, but it was a long, long walk back. Kenneth would either have an accident, or hurt himself before they made it. There had to be some way to get Kenneth to go where he was.
Well… First, Kenneth needed to stop breathing like that. It was clearly worsening his panicked state, and he wouldn’t pee if that kept up. Dwight turned around, he put his hands onto Kenneth’s shoulders. “I need you to hold your breath for a second, alright?”
Kenneth took a few seconds to obey, but he did.
“Okay, that’s good. Now, let it out very slowly.”
Kenneth did.
“Good. Now big breath in.”
Inhale.
“Out.”
Exhale.
“Big breath in,” Dwight repeated, noticing how badly Kenneth was trembling. He ran his hands up and down Kenneth’s arms, as if trying to warm him on a cold day. “Breathe out.”
After several seconds of this, liquid began to splash into the dirt. Contrary to Dwight’s expectations, it was nothing like a broken faucet, more like a faucet that had been just barely flicked on. Kenneth’s bladder was emptying in a slow, dismal trickle.
“Nnnnh,” Kenneth whined.
“No, that’s good,” Dwight said. “Keep going.”
“Hurts…” Kenneth whimpered.
Dwight felt alarmed at that, the last thing Kenneth should be feeling now that he was finally peeing was any sort of pain. It should have been feeling amazingly good, not bad in the least. He kept repeating to Kenneth to breathe, and after a few more times, his stream started picking up. Less like a leaking hose, more like a waterfall.
Dwight felt Kenneth start trembling again, but it was different. He wasn’t shaking like a panicked leaf, but it was more of a full-body shudder. A second after those convulsions had begun, Kenneth was moaning. His moan sounded so utterly filled with elation that Dwight knew right away that Kenneth was no longer feeling any pain. “Finallyyyyy,” Kenneth murmured.
Even though it looked like Kenneth had gotten a handle on things now, Dwight did not let go of his shoulders, did not stop rubbing them, did not stop telling Kenneth to breathe. He didn’t want to do anything that may cause his friend to lock back up before he was finished.
And, wow, it took a really, really long time for him to get finished. Dwight couldn’t believe someone could hold that much inside of themselves and not have an accident. Poor Kenneth, no wonder he’d been tearing up! Dwight began to wonder if Kenneth’s bladder was bottomless and they were going to be stuck there until sunrise, it took over a minute before his stream came to a rather abrupt stop and Kenneth slumped against Dwight with a loud sigh.
“Done?” Dwight asked.
“Yes…” Kenneth said, reaching to zip back up before fiddling with his hands. It was obvious that the embarrassment was beginning to creep in. “I… Thank you a lot for… That…”
Dwight wasn’t so sure what to say. This situation was hardly standard. He doubted many people ended up rubbing their friend’s shoulders while they gushed out a massive pee after hours of holding it in. “You’re welcome,” he said finally. “Uh… Any time.”
Kenneth looked down at his feet, “You can’t possibly mean that…”
“I do,” Dwight said. “If you have that… problem again, and I’m around, just. You know. Come get me, I’ll help you.”
“I…” Kenneth kept staring at his feet. His eyes were welling up again. Suddenly he pulled Dwight into a tight hug and just held him there, saying nothing.
Dwight felt himself begin to well up, too; Were such simple acts of kindness really so foreign to Kenneth? All he’d done was say he’d help Kenneth feel better when he was in pain. Just like any friend would…
“I… I just… Thank you. Nobody’s ever…” Kenneth couldn’t finish the sentence, just kept hugging Dwight.
Dwight rubbed his back, “I’m your friend,” he said. “Friends help each other.” |
“How much longer must we be here!?” Kenneth demanded. “This is ridiculous!”
“It’s… It’s a holding cell, Kenneth,” Dwight reminded. “Normally people don’t get let out of those very often.”
“Perhaps, I would be more understanding of these circumstances had we been captured by an enemy,” Kenneth said. “But, we weren’t! This is one of our own cells!”
“I know,” Dwight sighed. “You’ve been screaming about that for the past two hours. Could you just settle down?”
“Bryce is so juvenile!” Kenneth ranted. “We have important things to do, and instead he chooses to play a prank on us?”
“He only tricked us into getting locked up in here after you put silkworms into his canteen,” Dwight said.
“Irrelevant!” Kenneth declared.
Dwight shook his head. “Look, he’ll let us out when he gets bored. Or someone else will find us before long. Just sit tight for a little while, okay? I understand you’re angry, but—“
“How much longer can this possibly take!?” Kenneth carried on. “I have things I need to do!”
“Like he’s not even listening to me…” Dwight mumbled.
Kenneth quieted down a bit, but then he started pacing like a caged tiger. He’d pause at one end of the small cell every so often and bounce on the balls of his heels, then return to his frantic pacing.
“Kenneth, that’s not going to get us out any fas—“
“I can’t take it anymore!” Kenneth suddenly yelled.
“I know. You’re bored,” Dwight said. “Let’s… Let’s play twenty questions or something? That’s better than—“
Kenneth stopped pacing, but didn’t go still. He was bouncing up and down like his boots were filled with fleas. “Okay, fine,” he said.
Dwight suggested he sit down, but Kenneth refused to do that. Just continued anxiously bobbing up and down. Kenneth hated tight spaces. He refused to admit that his hatred for them stemmed from fear, but Dwight knew it did. Kenneth’s Father had locked him into small spaces for long stretches of time on numerous occasions, nothing good ever happened in small spaces. Dwight chalked Kenneth’s antsy behavior up to fear and tried to come up with ways to distract him. “Okay, I’ll go first, um—“
Kenneth chomped down on the knuckle of his pinky.
Oh.
That’s what he was going so stir-crazy over.
“You have to pee,” Dwight said.
Kenneth reddened and turned away, “Wow. Sherlock has deduced another miracle; Congrats genius, you figured it out!”
Dwight shut his eyes and took a deep breath. Kenneth’s constant barrage of complaints and insults was really beginning to get on his nerves. He’s in a tight space, Dwight reminded himself. He’s scared. He’s scared, and he’s stressed, and he needs a restroom really bad. Of course he’s gonna be extra volatile right now. Dwight repeated these things to himself a few times, trying to remind himself that Kenneth’s frustration and rage at the situation was completely understandable. He couldn’t expect Kenneth to be acting in a very cheerful way right now, and since Dwight was the only person around to listen to him, of course he would have to be the sounding board for all his anger. “Okay…” Dwight said finally. “That’s, hopefully, one thing that we can fix right now. I can’t get us out of here, but I can find some way to let you pee. Would that make you feel any better?”
“…Yes,” Kenneth admitted after a moment. “Sorry… I just… I’m really uncomfortable right now.”
“It’s okay,” Dwight said. He looked around the small room. There wasn’t a toilet, of course. Nor could Dwight see any sort of container. There was a sink and a bed. That was it. “How bad is it? On a scale of one to ten?”
“Is ten where I’m about to wet myself?”
“Yes.”
“Eight,” Kenneth answered miserably. “I forgot to go before I left the barrack this morning. I haven’t been since last night.”
“What?” Dwight exclaimed. “You never forget—“
“Well, I did today!” Kenneth said. “And, of course, I had to do it on the day we get stuck somewhere without a restroom.” A small sprinkle of pee escaped from his tip and he squeezed his eyes tight and fidgeted his legs. After a moment, he regained enough strength to open his eyes again. “S—Sorry, I don’t mean to snap at you. I just… Oh, this is bad.”
“It’s okay,” Dwight repeated. “Maybe Bryce will let us out soon.”
“He’s probably forgotten he locked us in here at all,” Kenneth said, his eyes twitching as his bladder convulsed once again. He felt the warm, clammy feeling around his cock increase even more and he gave in, pressing his hands down over his crotch. “Sorry…” he said.
“Don’t be,” Dwight said. “Just… Do what you have to do.”
“That’s what I’m trying to avoid,” Kenneth said under his breath. A quiet whine edged its way past his teeth while he writhed against his palms, every nerve ending in his pelvic region was screaming like they were on fire. “Nng…” He whimpered. His eyes squeezed shut once more. “Ah… It’s a nine now, I think.”
“Go… Go sit on the bed,” Dwight suggested. “Lay down, maybe it will be easy to hold it if you’re a little more comfortable otherwise?”
“No, I always need to pee worse if I’m laying down,” Kenneth said. “If I do that now, I’ll… I’ll… Have…” He was too mortified to even say the words ‘an accident’, scared that if he even mentioned that it was possible, it would happen for real.
“I didn’t know that,” Dwight said. “Normally, I can hold it longer if I lay down, so I just thought—“
“Nnn, don’t talk about that! You’re making it worse!” Kenneth whined, praying to every deity he could think of for a miracle that would grant him the ability to relieve himself. The hands gripping his dick felt like a feeble dam trying to hold back a flood from the biggest hurricane in history. “Ah! It’s a nine and a half now!” His voice began to tremble and his eyes stung with tears. His muscles were going so weak, he was going to release a torrent onto the ground below him any second now for sure! He could hardly breathe. He was trying so hard not to panic, not to do anything embarrassing, but his baser instincts were taking over as his ego was forced to step aside to make room for his desperation. “Dwight, help!” he cried, hating himself for it, as his hips jerked from side to side. “I don’t want to have an accident! Please don’t let me! Please! Please! Please!Pleasepleaseplease—“
That word quickly became the only word Kenneth knew, and Dwight’s eyes bounced around the tiny room frantically. He couldn’t pee on the bed, they’d be in trouble. If he pissed in a corner and Bryce smelled it, there would be Hell to pay. The only other thing was the sink—
Wait.
Duh.
“Oh!” Dwight said. “You can go in the sink!”
“What!?” Kenneth squeaked. “I can’t! That is disgusting, and utterly vile, and I absolutely—“ He stopped speaking abruptly as a long, long stream of liquid pushed through his penis and wet the front of his boxers, before warmly sliding down his leg. “I absolutely can’t hold it!” he finished, beginning to hobble to the sink while tearing at his buttons in a frenzy.
Dwight fought back a snort of laughter as Kenneth’s stubborn pride was devoured by the raw power of his need. Oh, Kenneth, he thought. You’re hilarious, you know that?
Once at the sink, Kenneth managed to get his uniform apart the rest of the way in record time. Then, he ran into a problem. Not his usual problem of ‘freezing up’ and getting anxious when he tried to relieve himself, this time the issue wasn’t psychological in nature; it was instead very physical. He hadn’t realized it until he’d pulled himself free of his uniform, but the sink was about level with the lower part of his chest, pretty far above his crotch. He was positive that when he let go, his stream was gonna have a great deal of force behind it, but he didn’t think he could angle himself in a way that wouldn’t result in him soaking himself and everything around him as he tried to pee into something that was way too high up.
That was it. He was too short to do this. “Dwight!” Kenneth whined.
“You need help relaxing yourse—“
“No, not yet,” Kenneth interrupted, wondering if Dwight was blind. The issue should have been obvious now that Kenneth was stood in front of the sink. “I can’t… I’m too..” He cringed. If there was one thing Kenneth hated (besides basically everything on Earth and probably a few things only found on distant planets), it was his height. He abhorred being small, he was teased for it relentlessly and it presented nothing but problems. Sometimes, Bryce would hold something Kenneth really wanted above his head so Kenneth couldn’t get it just to taunt him. Kenneth could never get things from high shelves and always had to, rather humiliatingly, ask for help. And now he couldn’t empty his painfully engorged bladder just because he was too short to let it out into a sink! “The sink is too high!” Kenneth finished, feeling less embarrassed to say that the sink was the one that wasn’t the correct size, rather than him.
“Oh,” Dwight said. “Yeah, I can see that now… Guess I wasn’t really thinking.” Dwight wasn’t that much taller than Kenneth, only a couple inches. He probably wouldn’t be able to pee in that sink without making a mess, either. Dwight was pretty strong, though, and Kenneth barely weighed anything… “I can lift you up a little.”
Kenneth felt heat pulse through him. God… Just the image of being held up in the air while he took a leak… Or worse, Dwight just holding him up for minutes on end while Kenneth failed to get his stream started… “Isn’t there something I can stand on top of?” he asked.
Dwight looked around. There were no crates, no boxes, no barrels… Certainly no step-stools…Dwight thought he could move the bed and have Kenneth get on top of that, but it would take several minutes to get it to the right spot, and Dwight could see that Kenneth had already leaked a substantial amount on the floor. By the time Dwight got the bed in place, Kenneth wasn’t likely to need it anymore… “Sorry, there isn’t.”
“Fine, I’ll hold it even longer!” Kenneth decided, now the heat assaulting his body wasn’t just embarrassment, but frustration too. He didn’t want to hold it anymore! He started to put himself back away, and the instant he gripped his zip to pull it up, pee was shooting into his boxers.
Panicked, he tugged his zip back down all the way and rescued his trickling cock. “Change of plans, can’t do it!” He said. The only way to make this less of an embarrassing shitshow would be to remind Dwight of exactly who was in charge in their relationship. Kenneth had to pretend that this was his idea. “Dwight! Get over here right this instant and assist me!” He couldn’t project very much authority into his voice when he could feel urine dribbling against his fingertips as he held his exposed dick. But, yelling always made him feel better, so he did it anyway.
“Yes, Kenneth,” Dwight said. He fought not to roll his eyes at his friend’s attempts to come off as authoritative while having an accident. He hurried over to Kenneth, trying to figure out the best way to grab him. He didn’t really have any time left to decide, a puddle was forming next to one of Kenneth’s boots and more dribbles were streaming out his tip nonstop. Dwight gripped him under his arms and raised him up as far as he could. Dwight’s arms were raised above his head as high as they’d go, and Kenneth was squirming in his grasp.
Kenneth’s bladder contracted with sick violence. The movement had been a serious shock to the bloated organ, and its walls squeezed in and pulsed in a frenzy. The drops that Kenneth had been unable to stop became a stream. He was peeing. “Ah!” Kenneth gasped twisting his legs, which were now dangling a bit below him.
“Is… That… Enough?” Dwight asked. He didn’t say it, but a few of Kenneth’s leaks had landed on him. And his arms were already feeling sore; Kenneth may have been pretty light, but he’d needed to be lifted quite far into the air.
Kenneth’s penis just met with the edge of the sink. It was enough. Just barely. The shocks that had befallen his bladder when he’d been picked up hadn’t stopped, and no matter how strange this was, it was still just Dwight. So, Kenneth had little trouble allowing his little stream to build into the massive waterfall he’d needed to let out.
HSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!
As it sprayed the hollow metal sink, Kenneth couldn’t help but cringe at the noise it made. He reminded himself that Dwight was the only other person around to hear it and tried to just concentrate on getting it all out.
And, oh what a relief that was! Dwight accidentally pinching his armpits a little couldn’t even register to him, all he could feel was the glorious sensation of his waters pouring uninhibited into the sink. He was pretty sure he was spraying with more power than the sink itself could, just gushing and gushing full blast, relief overtaking all other stimuli. He didn’t care how weird this was, he barely even noticed where he was at all anymore, all he knew was that he was peeing and it felt so good… “Ahhh…I just… I couldn’t hold it…”
“I know…” Dwight’s voice cracked, breaking through Kenneth’s reverie a little. “You… Almost done though? Because…I can’t hold you much longer…” His arms were getting sore, he was just grateful Kenneth was so skinny otherwise he probably would have dropped him by now, and that would be quite a mess… Even now though, Dwight was tiring out, and Kenneth was still peeing like there was no tomorrow. He knew from a previous incident that Kenneth could hold two liters of urine inside of himself. At least! Maybe that hadn’t even been his full capacity… Dwight didn’t know if his arms would last as long as it took Kenneth to piss out two liters.
“I’ll try and go faster,” Kenneth said. Usually, once he’d released and really gotten his stream going, his shy bladder would not rear its ugly head again before he’d emptied. So, it wasn’t too difficult for him to push down a bit and add some more power to his release. This did make it a great deal louder, and he blushed some more.
Dwight felt himself going red, too. It sounded like being right next to a waterfall now. Jesus… How did anyone pee like that?! He’d known Kenneth had to go bad, but good Lord… It was like he was trying to funnel the entirety of Lake Michigan through a coffee straw… Where had he even put all that? He was so small! His body must have been eighty percent bladder or something.
Pretty abruptly, the flow stopped, like a faucet suddenly being flicked closed. Kenneth sighed, “Okay, I am finished now.”
“Thank God…” Dwight said, allowing Kenneth’s feet to touch the floor again before shaking out his sore arms.
“Sorry…” Kenneth said. “I tried to… Finish sooner. That was as fast as I could—“
“Don’t worry about it,” Dwight said. “Feeling better?”
“Y…Yes,” Kenneth admitted. “Just… Thank you. Don’t know what I’d do without you,” he hugged Dwight close.
“Aw,” Dwight said. It was so rare for Kenneth to express affection like this. He was gonna enjoy it. He wrapped his arms around Kenneth’s back. “I’ll always be here, Kenneth. Don’t wor—“
“One thing, though,” Kenneth interrupted.
“Hm?” Dwight asked, rubbing Kenneth’s back. He was bony, all angles, and his shoulders were sharp points; He’d heard someone say once that Kenneth was about as huggable as a cactus, but to Dwight he was the most cuddly thing in the universe. Even if Kenneth wasn’t soft, having him so close made Dwight feel softer than anything. “What is it?”
“If you tell anyone about this I will play jumprope with your spinal column after I eviscerate you.”
Dwight shut his eyes and sighed, “You have a really beautiful way with words, Kenneth. You know that?”
Edited June 3, 2021 by segaface
(see edit history) |
The door to the private washroom in the barrack— The only place Kenneth could easily relieve his bladder— was stuck.
This had happened once before, the result of Bryce attempting to play a rather mean practical joke on Kenneth that had involved a lot of glue and some very powerful tape. That time, Kenneth had been unable to pee until it was fixed; He’d held it for so, so long that he’d gotten an infection and was unwell for several days.
This time, it was different. Bryce had had nothing to do with it, the door was just jammed. Dwight had tried to get it loose, but had been unable. The door would have to be physically removed from its hinge and set back into place. But, of course, everyone had much more important things to do than fix a stuck door. There were other places to pee, after all. Other, less private, toilets, and bushes and trees. The door could wait.
Kenneth couldn’t, though. He’d woken up unusually antsy for his morning pee, and had needed to fight down quite a bit of panic when he realized the door was not going to open.
Dwight had encouraged him to try getting relief elsewhere, and Kenneth had. He’d entered one of the more public restrooms, locked himself into a stall, and had tried to release his morning pee. But, he couldn’t do it. He could hear people talking just outside, and even though he couldn’t hear what they were saying, he managed to convince himself that they were all speculating on why he had yet to begin peeing. Hot shame pooled in his chest, and he’d given up.
Dwight could tell right away that Kenneth hadn’t been able to pee. “The bushes,” Dwight said. “You were able to go behind a few of those before, remember? Go try there.”
Kenneth felt more flames of embarrassment light up his face. He was too shy to use a proper toilet, and was having to resort to taking a leak in a bush instead. “Dwight, keep watch for me, okay?” He didn’t really have to request it, Dwight would always do it anyway.
“Of course, Kenneth,” Dwight said.
Kenneth scurried, red-faced, behind a large crop of bushes. They concealed his small body well, and Dwight was there to make sure no one got too close. He told himself he could do it. His poor bladder was aching, he had to let it relax somewhere…
He stood there for minutes on end, trying to will his body to calm down and do what it needed to do. Even after years upon years of dealing with his problem, he still could not understand how he could need to do something so incredibly badly, yet still be unable to when he tried. It was completely nonsensical. When he needed water, his throat did not constrict and make it so he couldn’t swallow any. When he needed to breathe, his lungs did not reject the air and insist he continue to suffocate. So, why this? Why did his bladder lock itself up tighter than a maximum security prison when he badly needed to pee?
He inhaled deeply, and mashed the flat of his palm into his middle. Pain erupted beneath his harsh touch, sending wicked pangs of need out to every cell in his body. But, the source of all the agony remained stubbornly full, the ground between his feet was dry as a bone.
“I can’t, Dwight,” Kenneth said quietly. “I hate this so much. I hate it more than I’ve ever hated anything— I think I hate it even more than I hate mosquitos!”
Dwight came a little closer. He considered telling Kenneth to just try and relax, but thought better of it. He’d made the mistake of saying that to Kenneth once before, and it had set him off on a rant. “You can’t try to relax, Dwight. That’s idiotic. If you have to concentrate and make yourself do it, then you can’t be relaxed!”
Kenneth had claimed on a separate occasion that he’d only relaxed once in his life, and that it had made him feel very tense.
Dwight had been unable to tell if that was a joke.
Instead of suggesting that his friend try and relax, he told him to think of waterfalls, and rivers, and flowing, and— Dwight stopped rambling about watery environments and trickling liquids when he realized that he hadn’t peed yet that morning either, and that his bladder was none too happy with him for that. Dwight’s evocative words hadn’t coaxed Kenneth into releasing, but it had made Dwight a lot more aware of his own need.
Dwight thought about if he could take a leak right now when Kenneth was struggling so much to do the same... That would be incredibly cruel. He’d hold it until Kenneth could go. He quickly became more eager to get his friend calmed down, and moved onto the next tactic. This one usually did the trick; He put his hands onto Kenneth’s shoulders and rubbed, speaking softly; “It’s okay, Kenneth. We’re alone here. It’s just us.”
Ignoring his own bladder’s protestations, Dwight went on “Just… Feel yourself going loose… Deep breath in… Let it out… Think of the nice steady pour of water into a cup… Think of the trickling, flowing… Nnnh… The trickling, flowing gush of water on a riverbank…” Dwight started to pace in place, and was having a very difficult time maintaining his calm tone, and keeping the strokes he gave to Kenneth’s shoulders light and soft. His body was tensing so much as he struggled to keep his flood inside while simultaneously describing things meant to stimulate a person’s bladder into releasing.
Come on, Kenneth… Dwight thought desperately. Hurry up… He felt his spine knot all the way up his back, felt his bladder throb, and he crossed one leg tight over the other. The fact that he was surrounded by the very bushes which, if he were being honest, he’d probably pissed onto at least thirty times by now when the line for the toilets was too long, was making his urgency worse. His bladder recognized this as a place it could be emptied, and was confused and angry that that wasn’t what was happening.
Kenneth squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to forget where he was. He tried to forget that once again he had needed to resort to having his friend stroke and coo at him like a scared kitten just so he could— hopefully— take a leak. He focused himself on how nice Dwight’s hands felt, and on picturing the environments Dwight described to him. He focused very hard on the image of a riverbank overflowing after a heavy rainstorm, unable to contain all the liquid it had been filled with. Kenneth finally felt that little tingle he usually got right before his bladder released. He started to open his eyes again so he’d be able to get his aim right, and at last the first trickles of release pattered the dirt between his feet. Finally!
Oh, thank God… Dwight thought when he heard liquid begin to splash against the ground. Now, I can—
Before Dwight could finish that thought, and before Kenneth could let the relieved breath out of his lungs, they heard a branch snap. Instantly, Kenneth’s flow cut off like a garden hose that was being bent. He cringed and had to fight back an audible wince of pain. Every time he was interrupted like that while peeing, it would feel like being pinched. Like being pinched in an incredibly sensitive part of his body. It was just awful! Not just the sharp pangs of agony, but the knowledge that he wasn’t out of the woods after all; He was right back to holding it. And, for some reason, even though some of his pee had come out, it always ended up feeling like he had to go worse than before!
“I can’t do it here,” Kenneth hastily buttoned his uniform back up, ignoring the confused jolts the action sent through his still incredibly full bladder.
“I… I’m sure it was just a squirrel or something!” Dwight stammered. “You can—“
“I can’t!”
“Okay…” Dwight paced back and forth, both trying to come up with an answer for Kenneth, and trying to distract himself from his own urgent need. “The… The restroom on the far-side. Normally, no one’s in there this early in the day. You can go there!”
“I’ll try,” Kenneth said, looking down at his tapping feet, “I’m so sorry about this. I’m inconveniencing you.”
“You’re… Not,” Dwight said. Although, he really wished he could just turn around and take a leak here… “It’s okay. It’s not that long a walk.”
The trek to the other restroom wasn’t long, but considering that they were both dying to pee, they couldn’t walk it very fast. Kenneth was trying so hard not to dance around and to walk like a normal human being, but every few steps he’d need to stop and regain his bearings a little. Dwight had tucked a hand into one of his pockets and was using it to give himself a few, hopefully discreet, squeezes. For both of them, each step sent hot bullets of need ricocheting through their bodies.
At last, they’d made it, and the restroom was blessedly empty. Dwight exhaled. Kenneth would surely be able to go here. Kenneth dashed for the stall, but found a note tacked to it stating it was out of order. He bounced up and down on his heels in dismay. His bladder throbbed and pounded with no mercy, it felt like entire oceans were colliding within it, and he gave in and pressed his hands against his crotch. “It’s out of order,” he informed Dwight in a panic.
Dwight looked to the side, “Use a urinal,” he suggested. Like I’m dying to, he added in his head.
“I can’t… What if… What if someone comes in and sees?” Kenneth stammered. “There aren’t even any dividers, I can’t— They’ll see—“
Dwight glanced back around at the door. Thank goodness, it locked. He slammed the mechanism into place. “Okay, I got the door locked,” Dwight stammered, half doubled over as he shifted from foot to foot. “No one will come in. It’s just us. It’s private. You’re okay.”
“I can’t…” Kenneth said quietly, but he still unclasped his belt with shaking hands. A few seconds later, he’d aimed himself at the urinal, prompting a handful of drops but nothing more.
“Y—You can!” Dwight insisted. Please, Kenneth! Please, just be able to do this, so I can go? “You can use the urinal!”
“I’ve never— I’ve never been able— I feel exposed,” Kenneth tried to explain.
“You just— Just feel like you are. But, you’re not. The door’s locked. I’m the only one here,” Dwight reminded, he unclasped his belt and exhaled at the tiny amount of relief that gave him. But, it lasted only a second and then he was back to feeling like he was on the verge of exploding into a million pieces. “Nnnh, here,” Dwight said. He grabbed Kenneth’s shoulders and started to rub. “Think of water— Ack!” he exclaimed, a small trickle of pee beginning to glide down his leg. “Think of pouring water, and gushing… And… And peeing! Think of peeing, and how good it will feel to just pee, because you really have to, and you haven’t since yesterday and— Ohhh, and you have to go so bad, and it’s all you can think about! And, all you want to do is pee, and you can’t hold it, and—“
Dwight abruptly stopped talking and rubbing Kenneth’s shoulders, he now needed his hands around his dick instead as a massive leak began to spurt from its tip. God… If he could just tear his zipper down and let everything flow into the urinal next to the one Kenneth was already standing at! “Think of how you can’t possibly hold it a second longer! It’s too much, you waited too long, it can’t stay in anymore, it’s coming out, and you can’t wait, and—“
HSSSSSS!
At that sound, Dwight looked down at himself in a panic, certain he’d just begun to flood his clothes and the floor surrounding him. It took him a few seconds to realize that his bladder was still shut, all his urine was still locked inside, save for a few maddening drips he couldn’t stop.
“Ahhhhh…” Kenneth breathed. He tipped his head back a bit as he moaned, his long-held pee spattering the urinal with the loudest, most powerful hiss Dwight had ever heard.
The sound went right to his bladder, and it became too much. The drips that had been steadily trickling from his tightly clutched dick gave way to a massive stream. He yanked his zip down in record time and pulled himself out. For a few seconds, his urine splashed against the floor as he tried to get himself in front of a urinal. He felt a little bad for the mess, but he could care about that later. Once he’d aimed at the right place and no longer had to try to hold back, his stream transformed into the world’s most powerful waterfall. “Oh, God!” he gasped, amazed that anything could feel as good as this did. He fought to catch his breath as wave after wave of liquid teemed through him and splashed into the urinal. God… He’d never been so grateful to simply stand at a urinal before… “Feel… Better now, Kenneth?” he asked between heavy breaths of air.
Kenneth could do nothing but moan. He knew he’d feel embarrassed and self-conscious once he’d finished— He couldn’t even believe that the noises he was hearing were seriously coming out of his mouth— But, for now, all he could feel was solace, comfort and relaxation. His mind was delightfully fuzzy, all that agonizing pressure leaving his body at long last. He never would have managed to feel this good if Dwight hadn’t helped him. “Thank…” he managed to say. “Thank you…”
“You’re welcome,” Dwight said, his stream beginning to slow and taper off. Once he was empty and had zipped back up, the unbelievably loud splashing of Kenneth’s stream was still going on and on. Dwight was amazed by that; He’d been ready to burst, and had started peeing after Kenneth had, yet Kenneth was still flowing like a creek after the biggest rainstorm in years. Again, Dwight wondered how in the world Kenneth could hold so much.
Kenneth’s cascading jet of liquid began to die down to a trickle, and Dwight assumed he was just about finished and started to ask how he was feeling, but before he could get one word out, another huge bursting hiss sprayed out of his friend. This one lasted almost half a minute on its own, and then Kenneth stopped gushing rather abruptly.
Even after he’d stopped peeing, Kenneth stood there for a moment more. He could feel his bladder still kind of squeezing; Desperate to ensure it really was empty, although he was pretty sure there wasn’t anything left. Once the pulsing stopped, Kenneth was reasonably sure he was finally done and zipped back up.
“Good Lord…” Dwight murmured, then felt his face going red. That hadn’t been what he’d meant to say at all. He’d meant to just ask Kenneth if he felt okay!
Kenneth blushed, but he still looked relaxed. He was almost kind of smiling, so hopefully he wasn’t too embarrassed by what Dwight had said. Or, maybe the feeling of letting out that much had simply made it impossible for him not to smile about it. “Um, yeah… Thank you,” Kenneth said again. “That was… Um… Very necessary.”
“I’m glad I could help you again,” Dwight said. “And I always will, I promise.”
They left the room after washing up, to be met with Bryce glaring at them rather angrily; “Who in the Hell told you you could lock that door?”
“Um— It was an accident?” Kenneth tried. “Force of habit, because I normally lock the door when I need to—“
“Christ, I’ve been dying out here!” Bryce ranted, working at his belt as he stormed over to one of the urinals. He released a stream and a brief sigh; “And, listening to that… Explosion of water you were letting loose in here was not helpful in the least!”
Kenneth felt his blood run cold, which was strange because the skin all over his body seemed to just ignite in flame. |
There's kind of a brief reference to masochism here. Not, like, hardcore BDSM stuff, but mentions of a character having an unusual relationship with/interest in pain. The section discussing that is marked in purple if the topic is uncomfortable for you.
After Bryce had finished up in the restroom and gone back to work, he couldn’t stop thinking about how Kenneth apparently had a bladder the size of an oil drum. He and Kenneth had been at odds for so long, nobody could even quite remember who had started their feud or why. Kenneth had been successful at outsmarting Bryce on a few occasions, but Bryce had always taken solace in the fact that he would always be bigger and much, much stronger than twiggy little Kenneth could ever hope to be.
But, apparently, there was one part of Kenneth’s body that was almost freakishly strong. And, Bryce could not get himself to stop thinking about it. The very idea that Kenneth could have him beat nagged at him all day. He couldn’t accept the possibility that Kenneth’s bladder could be even slightly stronger than his own was. He was not going to stand for it; He had to regain his certainty that he was far, far more powerful than Kenneth was in every way.
That night, he struggled to sleep as he tried to come up with a way to prove to this to himself. He eventually came to the conclusion that he’d challenge Kenneth to a little competition. Hopefully, the other would accept. If he didn’t do so right away, Bryce knew that a few well-aimed taunts would provoke his ego well enough.
Bryce was confident he could outlast Kenneth. Sure, he’d overheard Kenneth pissing out what sounded like the entirety of the Caspian Sea, but Bryce had experience with holding it for long periods, too. He knew he could keep a lot in, and he knew that his endurance for pain was high.
Bryce had an odd thing about pain. Not just in inflicting it upon others, but in experiencing it for himself. He’d been fascinated by how discomfort and suffering affected his mind and body, and sometimes he found those affects a little exciting. He’d fantasized sometimes about being captured and tormented in agonizing ways, proving to himself just how much he could tolerate and feeling all the more powerful at the end.
He’d sometimes done things to his body just to prove to himself he could handle them. He’d licked the blades of knives, he’d walked on hot coals, he’d even consented to being whipped rather violently on several occasions. Every time, the pain igniting beneath the top layer of his skin made him tingle, and once it was over and he’d outlasted the hurt, he’d felt like he could conquer the world.
He was sure that simply holding his pee a little longer than Kenneth could wouldn’t even scratch the surface of the things he’d endured and, truthfully, enjoyed.
The next morning, Bryce found Kenneth and Dwight outside of their barrack; “Paulson,” he said. “Was the door to the restroom fixed?”
“Yes,” Kenneth nodded.
“So, you were able to handle yourself easily this morning, I trust?”
“Why are you asking me this?”
“I was just making sure,” Bryce said. “I wanted to be certain that you are feeling well. Am I not allowed to do that?”
“You’re allowed to,” Dwight said. “But, we don’t really trust you. I mean, when Kenneth got Pneumonia last Winter you still told him he had to march in the snow.”
“So?”
“So, I had to go above your head to your superior so that Kenneth wouldn’t die!” Dwight said. “And you think we’ll believe you actually cared if he took a leak this morning or not?”
“Okay,” Bryce said. “You caught me. I was just asking because I wanted to challenge Paulson to a wager, and wanted to make sure it was fair.”
“What wager?” Kenneth asked, eyes lighting. He never turned down an opportunity to remind Bryce that he was a moron.
“I wanted to see which of us could restrain our bladders the longest.”
Kenneth stared at Bryce. He blinked once. Twice. Three times. “That’s vile,” he said finally.
“It’s not,” Bryce corrected, rolling his eyes. “Look, I won’t make you do anything else today— You don’t have to march, you don’t have to stand guard for hours— We’ll just stay in the barrack until you give up.”
Kenneth sighed, “Even if I agreed to this— Which I won’t— I would not be the one to give up. Remember that awful prank you played on me with the door? I did not relieve myself for over twenty hours that day. I doubt you have ever even gotten close to that.”
Bryce hadn’t, but there was a first time for everything. And he was planning for himself and Kenneth to drink quite a lot of water today, so it was unlikely either of them would make it that long. He was disappointed that his first jab at Kenneth’s confidence hadn’t been enough to sway his mind, though. Time to aim a little lower— Literally. “It is impossible for your bladder to be larger than mine is,” Bryce said. “Just look at how tiny you are—You could use a toothpick as walking cane.” Bryce gestured between himself and Kenneth. “I’m over a foot taller than you, everything about me is larger and stronger than your concave, little twig body.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Kenneth said. “And… And, I can hold two liters, we found out! Dwight, tell him!”
Dwight had been looking back and forth between the two as though watching a tennis match, but he stopped now. Kenneth had been mortified when Dwight had informed him he’d managed to fill a two liter bottle up with his piss, how the Hell did it go from an embarrassing little factoid to a point of pride? “Um, yeah, he can…”
Bryce took that in, trying to decide whether or not he believed them. As well as whether or not that was particularly impressive. He didn’t know how much urine a person could usually hold and if two liters was above average, below it, or just pretty much standard. Bryce had also never peed into anything that he could use to measure the amount, so he had no clue how much he could retain. Still, it sounded like Kenneth was caving. “Bullshit,” Bryce said. “A strong breeze would snap you right in half, so there’s no way you can hold that much!”
“But, I can!” Kenneth protested, growing red. “Dwight saw me do it! And, Elizabeth saw the bottle after! Go ask her!”
Okay. Good. He was nice and provoked now… “Prove it, then!”
“Fine! I will!”
***
“I think we should start with three canteens of water,” Bryce said to Dwight. The three were inside the barrack together, and Dwight was reluctantly filling the canteens at the sink. “Like, we’re doing drills. What do you think?”
“I think this is idiotic,” Dwight replied. “Because, Kenneth physically can’t pee if you’re near him, even if he ought to be having an accident.”
“That’s nonsense.”
“It’s not, though,” Dwight said. “You remember when he got the infection? The doctor said his bladder got too full and the urine back-flowed. I’m no medical expert, but I’m pretty sure that means his pee went back up instead of out like it was supposed to. He hurt himself real bad because his body locked itself down so much. So, either you’re going to piss your pants, or Kenneth’s going to damage something; This isn’t gonna end well. Just call this off, and stop egging him on to do this.”
“I don’t care if he breaks his bladder,” Bryce informed.
“Well, I do,” Dwight said. “Seriously, I hate seeing him in pain. Just—“
“If he hurts himself, it’s his own fault for being so stupid he can’t even figure out how to wet his pants.”
“That’s not— That’s— This isn’t his fault,” Dwight said. “He can’t help it.”
Bryce took the canteens and went over to one of the beds where Kenneth was waiting. “Ready to lose, you little twerp?”
“I am not going to lose,” Kenneth said. “But, I am ready to begin.”
Bryce handed a few of the canteens to Kenneth. “Okay, drink these as fast as you can, then!”
Kenneth unscrewed one of the caps.
Dwight sighed and sat down beside Kenneth to watch. He’d decided that if it looked like Kenneth was in too much pain, he would insist on calling the whole thing off, no matter what either of them said.
Over the next couple hours, Kenneth and Bryce continued to drink. Kenneth was the first to show signs of need— Though, only Dwight could tell— as he nibbled on his knuckles nervously.
Shortly thereafter, Bryce began to bounce one of his knees. He wasn’t desperate, and he repeated that fact to himself over and over. No, he wasn’t desperate at all. Just… The open door to the restroom was looking really tempting and he needed to distract himself somehow. He took another sip of water, and commanded Kenneth to do the same.
Kenneth sighed and obeyed. He could feel a few anxious pangs rippling through his abdomen. His morning pee was starting to feel like it had been eons ago. Perhaps he should have stayed at the toilet a moment longer, made extra sure he was completely drained. But, he hadn’t known this was going to happen…
Kenneth did not have an ounce of masochism in his body, unlike Bryce. He did not enjoy being in pain or uncomfortable, it was neither exciting nor triumphant. But, what Kenneth did have was an abnormally high pain threshold. He could endure suffering for long periods of time simply because he’d, unfortunately, been required to get a great deal of practice at it growing up.
So, now, he reminded himself of times he’d been much more desperate to go. He reminded himself that his limit was still miles away. Even if he was getting really uncomfortable, he wasn’t in danger of bursting. The hardest part though was not fidgeting; He couldn’t let on to Bryce that he was feeling anything at all. He was determined to make it appear as though all the water he swallowed was merely evaporating the instant it went down his throat. If Bryce thought that he didn’t need to go at all, then surely as his own urgency built, he would realize it was in his best interest to give up, right?
But… God, it was so hard not to squirm! He moved his legs closer and closer together as slowly as he could, hoping to play it off as totally natural. When he was at last able to squeeze his thighs together, the relief was magnificent. Some of the pressure faded away as he pressed his opening shut between his thighs. He hoped he did not appear too tense, and allowed himself to let out a sigh; Both because it felt so good to be doing something to help keep his urine at bay, and because it would show Bryce how very unbothered he really was.
Bryce heard Kenneth sigh, and saw the relaxed look on his face. What he didn’t notice was how tightly pressed together the other’s legs were. It caused a bit of panic to pound through his chest. How could Kenneth still be so at ease? Bryce was starting to lose his ability to keep still. His leg was still jiggling, and now it was doing so with far more urgency.
He could endure this. He would endure this. Pain was good. Pain made him strong. Just… God, this was really starting to hurt! This awful, intense throbbing pulsating through his most sensitive parts… He stopped bouncing his leg and instead crossed them together. He yawned, tried to pretend he was just getting tired.
Kenneth exhaled another sigh when he noticed Bryce was crossing his legs. Bryce was gonna give up any minute now, surely. Then, Kenneth could not only rub his victory in the bastard’s face, but he could finally go! He wasn’t sure which of those was going to feel best; Getting one over on Bryce was always fun, but his need for relief was getting worse by the minute. He’d drank all that water way too fast, it was moving through him at lightning speed now. It felt like more urine was being deposited into his bladder every second. He gnawed on his knuckles.
Dwight gave Kenneth a concerned look, and removed his hand from his mouth. “You are going to hurt yourself,” he said quietly. And, he didn’t just mean by chewing… Bryce and Kenneth were two of the most stubborn human beings to ever walk the Earth, and they antagonized each other like territorial dogs. Dwight didn’t think either of them would admit defeat until either urine was pooling beneath them, or they needed serious medical attention.
Kenneth tucked his hands beneath his thighs to keep from chewing on them any further. He realized with some dismay that squeezing his legs together wasn’t bringing much relief anymore. He wanted to unclasp his belt, but such an action would surely be noticed by Bryce. There had to be some other, more subtle way, to take some of the edge off.
Squeezing something in his hands sometimes helped him hold it longer… He looked around, but didn’t see anything he could hold onto. Except for… “Ah, you’re right, Dwight. My hand’s really sore now. That’s such an awful habit…” He held one of his hands out. “Did I damage anything?”
Dwight was confused, but took Kenneth’s hand to examine it, only for Kenneth to suddenly grip onto his hand like a boa constrictor. Dwight winced. It hadn’t hurt, Kenneth couldn’t squeeze him that hard, it had just been a bit of a surprise. He realized a second later that Kenneth probably needed to grab something so that he wouldn’t inadvertently grab onto his dick out of pure instinct.
Once the initial surprise wore off, Dwight felt warmth build in his chest. Kenneth was holding his hand… Sure, he was only doing it to try and stave off his desperation a little longer, but still. And, if holding onto Dwight’s hand actually helped him do that, that meant Dwight was comforting him, in a way. The warm feeling inside of his body took on a soft, fuzzy quality. This also helped him monitor how much discomfort his friend was in; Every few seconds, Kenneth would suddenly squeeze him tighter, and Dwight quickly worked out that he must have been doing that whenever his bladder sent him a particularly sharp twinge.
Bryce’s legs were now tucked underneath himself. He couldn’t believe this shit! He felt like he was about to explode! How was Kenneth still so blasted calm!? He inhaled sharply through his nose and let it out through his mouth as he tried very, very hard to get a grip.
He did get a grip a few seconds later. He got a grip on his cock. His hands dove between his legs before he’d even realized what he was doing. Oh God, oh God…No, he couldn’t lose. He was not weaker than Kenneth in any way, shape or form. There was nothing Kenneth could do that Bryce couldn’t do twenty times better.
Kenneth shimmied his legs and his hand clamped itself around Dwight’s like a mouse-trap as he felt a drop collecting on the very edge of his trembling urethra. He shut his eyes tightly for a moment, reminding himself he could do this. Even when he felt the drop seep its way into his boxers, he continued to tell himself that he could handle it. He forced a smile at Bryce’s hunched, desperately twisted body. “G—Getting a little uncomfortable, Bryce? Is there a break you would like to take soon?”
Bryce forced himself to straighten out a little, he allowed his feet to return to the floor and inched them apart little by little, ignoring the little trickle of urine the motion prompted. He could not, however, release his dick. “It… Has not even crossed my mind yet, Paulson.” He knew how ludicrous his claim was, anyone who looked at him would be able to tell he needed a urinal very badly…
Kenneth, naturally, didn’t buy it. He was about to retort with something, but was interrupted by a spurt of pee escaping his own bladder. Dwight almost did make a sound when Kenneth’s grip on him tightened that time. Kenneth managed to cut off his flow a second later, but could feel an alarming amount of dampness encasing his length.
Kenneth just hoped Bryce hadn’t heard anything.
Bryce had, though. He’d heard the soft hiss of liquid beginning to soak his opponent’s clothing. He realized that, perhaps, this wasn’t over. Kenneth wasn’t any less desperate for a pee than he was, he was merely better at hiding it. This knowledge gave Bryce a big enough boost in confidence that he gingerly removed his hands from between his tight thighs. He could still win this thing.
He took a few stabilizing breaths, adjusting to having to contain himself without the aid of his hands once more. Breathing had become a bit painful, he realized. His skin was stretching itself over the round, distended curve of his bladder. He unclasped his belt, and released an exaggerated sigh; “Ahhhh… That feels much better! I can wait a lot longer now!”
Kenneth shuddered as he saw Bryce remove the pressure of his belt from his bladder. He looked a lot more relaxed now, and the sigh that had come from his lips had sounded so at ease… Kenneth could only imagine how great the release of the strap had felt, his bladder being granted that extra tiny bit of space…
Hss!
A two second spurt of urine sprayed from Kenneth’s tip and, panicked, he let go of Dwight’s hand to unfasten his own belt. The second the awful, tight thing stopped pressing itself into his bloated bladder, Kenneth felt like he was in Heaven. “Ahhhh…” he exhaled. “Y—You’re right. That is a lot better,” he added, trying to play it off.
Kenneth went straight from Heaven to Hell when Bryce handed him a canteen. “You never finished your last drink,” Bryce pointed out. “Gotta keep this fair…”
Kenneth grimaced, but took the water and began to force it down his throat. As implausible as it was, it felt like his bladder filled more and more with each swallow. Like, the water wasn’t even being processed, it just went straight from his throat to his bladder. His sphincters burned, his holding muscles screamed. His eyes fixated on the door to the toilet.
God… He could actually see the toilet from where he was sitting… He cringed, and shut his eyes against the image, scissoring his legs together. He’d given up on looking nonchalant, he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t bursting anymore. His hands went right between his legs and he gave himself a badly needed squeeze.
“You look like you’re about to have an accident,” Bryce noted. The statement was a bit hilarious coming from someone who looked like they were on the verge of doing the exact same thing. Had Dwight not been so concerned by the clear pain on Kenneth’s face, he would have laughed.
About an hour passed in this fashion. Bryce and Kenneth managed to keep themselves right at the very edge of soaking the bed they were sitting on. They squirmed and fidgeted like they were covered in ants. They let out several, very undignified sounding whimpers. Their bodies became soaked in sweat, their legs glued themselves together, and they held their dicks for dear life. But, neither of them would concede defeat.
Dwight wanted to call it off, to insist that Bryce leave, and that Kenneth go relieve himself while he was gone. He didn’t care what happened to Bryce after he’d been thrown out, he only cared that Kenneth didn’t hurt himself. His heart twisted almost as much as Kenneth’s legs had.
Dwight didn’t think they were to the point that Kenneth’s health was in danger, though. He’d repeatedly asked Kenneth if he was feeling pain in his back— When Kenneth had gotten the infection, he’d been in tears, crying that he needed to pee so badly his back hurt, so Dwight assumed that was a sign he was hurting himself. Kenneth had insisted he wasn’t feeling that pain yet, however.
Kenneth had been telling the truth. There was no pain in his back. Only in his bladder. But, good God was that pain ever intense! He had actually ceased squirming, just sat there with his legs tangled ridiculously and his hands kneading his crotch as he took the shortest, most shallow breaths he could manage. Simply breathing too deeply would cause more dribbles to force their way down his shaft. His eyes were shut tight, his face pinched and full of agony. All he could think about was peeing. All he could think about was unzipping, yanking himself free, and letting everything loose at last. It would feel so wonderful, all that awful, horrible tightness that had been stretching inside him all day diminishing little by little until he felt nothing but light, glorious emptiness. He’d just tug his zip down, and go and go and go, and it would—
HSSSSSSSS!
He was startled from his daydream by a loud rush of liquid that quickly became the only thing he could hear; It was the only thing that existed anymore. No, no! He couldn’t be— He couldn’t be having an accident! No! Stop! He clutched himself tighter and tighter, his legs wrapping together more and more, and—
He realized after a couple seconds that his hands and the area around his crotch did not feel soaked at all. More importantly, his bladder was still throbbing with need, still trying to force its way passed the small ring of muscles keeping its contents inside.
He wasn’t peeing…
Bryce was.
“Ah! Oh my God!” Bryce exclaimed, bolting up to his feet. “Fuck!” He scurried to the restroom as fast as he could. He actually forced himself to run, he was already pissing full-force, trying to move slow would do nothing but ensure more of it ended up in his clothes. He slammed the door shut and tugged down his zipper, pulling his gushing, wet member free from the confines of his already soaked clothes. A spatter of piss hit the rim of the toilet as he aimed, his waters spurting unrestrained into the bowl with a loud, resounding spray that just would not stop.
As the relief crashed down onto him, so too did dismay; He’d lost. Kenneth had held it longer than he had. Kenneth was better than him at something. Unacceptable. Something had to be done. He thought of Kenneth out there, still miserably holding back his flood, and thought of something he could do;
“Ahhhhhhh….” Bryce moaned as loudly as he could. “Ohhhhhhh…. Yesss…. That feeels soooo goooood…”
Outside the restroom, still clutching himself on the bed, all Kenneth could hear was Bryce’s uproarious groaning and the distinct, impossible to ignore hiss of his pee splashing into the toilet. Kenneth whimpered at the sounds, he was about to tear open! A slow, unstoppable drizzle seeped into his boxers, and he felt his hands growing damp as he tried to make it stop. “Nnnnhhh!”
Dwight rubbed his back, “Kenneth, it’s okay. You won this stupid game. Just hold it one more minute.”
Bryce just kept pouring though, with more relieved sighing than necessary, while Kenneth fought to avoid doing the exact same thing in his pants. “I can’t! I can’t anymore!”
Dwight looked around frantically, seeing the dark patch forming over Kenneth’s crotch. “Okay… Okay… Let’s…” He then felt like smacking himself. “Got it!” He opened one of the canteens Kenneth and Bryce had drained over the course of the day. It was probably gonna take more than one of these to contain everything Kenneth had inside him, but there were plenty scattered over the bed. “You can—“
Kenneth was fighting with his zip already, his hands shaking so much he could barely grasp it. Still, more pee was trickling out of him. “I can’t— I can’t—“
Dwight thought fast. It was maybe a little uncomfortable, but… “May I?”
“Yes!”
Dwight took Kenneth’s zip and tugged it down easily, he readied the canteen as Kenneth got his still leaking cock out and positioned it at the opening. As soon as he was lined up, his bladder just gave up. Pee spattered the metal container so loudly it was almost painful to Kenneth’s embarrassed ears. The moan he gave a second later did little to help with his humiliation. “Ohhhhhhhhh….” His eyelids fluttered and he felt almost lightheaded.
As the first canteen grew fuller and fuller, Dwight told Kenneth he was gonna have to hold back for a second. Kenneth managed to restrain himself to a few pulsing dribbles, but that was it. Dwight moved fast and got the second container where it needed to be in record time. Good thing, too, because Kenneth was gushing for all he was worth again before Dwight could even tell him it was okay.
This one filled quite quickly too, and Dwight moved on to the third. He was beginning to get worried that maybe there weren’t enough canteens here after all… Hopefully Bryce would be done soon, and Kenneth could finish up in the toilet.
Sure enough, the toilet in the other room flushed and Bryce came out; “WHAT IN GOD’S NAME ARE YOU DOING!?” he exclaimed upon seeing Kenneth ‘refilling’ the canteens.
Unlike when Dwight had told him to hold back a moment so he could get him an empty container, when Bryce startled Kenneth, he clamped off completely. “I—I— Um…”
“We need those, you idiot! Don’t make a mess of them!”
Kenneth’s urethra burned and stung, and a pulse of piss spattered the canteen Dwight was still holding against Kenneth’s will.
“Can you yell at him in a minute?” Dwight asked. “He’s not finished yet.”
Kenneth’s face went bright pink, and deepened to a furious red when another long spurt of pee sprayed the canteen.
“Stop it!” Bryce ordered.
“I can’t!” Kenneth cried, feeling horribly embarrassed. The next time he lost it, it was only a few drops.
“Now!” Bryce barked.
Kenneth gripped himself once more, trying to pinch himself closed as he fought to get to his feet. He fumbled and stumbled for the restroom and locked the door, losing a few more leaks on the way. He released his tight hold on his dick and allowed his body to resume draining. “Ahhhh….” Now that he was in the right place and Bryce wasn’t yelling at him, he started to almost shiver with the pleasure of relief.
Outside, Bryce was looking at the canteens Kenneth had defiled. “Holy shit…” Bryce said.
“We’re very sorry,” Dwight said. “It was either that, or the bed.”
“He filled two and a half of those things and still wasn’t done?!” Bryce asked. He hated to admit it, but he didn’t think he could manage to do that.
“Um, yeah. Maybe don’t talk about it when he gets back, though?”
Kenneth finished up his pee, an almost violent shudder running down his spine. He washed up and stared at himself in the mirror. He could not believe he’d let Bryce see him piss into a canteen… Holy fuck…
A second later however, he realized that he’d won the contest! He’d held it longer than Bryce could! He’d proven that at least one part of his body was stronger and tougher than Bryce’s was! He felt a surge of confidence, the embarrassment fading as he left the restroom.
“I won!” Kenneth declared to Bryce. “Told you I could hold two liters!”
Bryce looked at the canteens, tried to add up how much they held, and to estimate how much Kenneth released into the toilet afterwards… “Well, you’re still an idiot,” Bryce informed after a moment. He looked down at himself, there was a huge wet patch over his crotch and trailing down his leg. Unfortunately, he didn’t stay in this barrack, so he didn’t have anything to change into for his walk back… “Could I borrow one of your uniforms?”
“Oh, but I thought I was just too small and twiggy compared to you?” Kenneth asked.
“It… Will be a little tight,” Bryce admitted. “But—“
“No,” Kenneth said.
“I’ll loan you some of my clothes,” Dwight said.
“Dwight, no!” Kenneth whined. “He’s a jerk!”
“Yes,” Dwight agreed. “But, he’s also in charge of us, and if we make him walk around in piss-soaked clothes he’s probably going to make us march back and forth somewhere for fifteen hours straight.”
“I was planning on seventeen,” Bryce corrected. “But, yes. I was going to do that.”
After Bryce had changed and left, Kenneth turned to Dwight; “I sure showed him!”
“You— Ugh…” Dwight sighed. “At least you didn’t hurt yourself.” He put an arm around Kenneth’s shoulder and rubbed. “Feeling better?”
“Much better,” Kenneth said.
“Guess I’ll rinse out the canteens you… Uh… ‘used’,” Dwight said.
Kenneth blushed, “Uh… Yeah. Sorry about that… Um… Thanks for… For thinking of them, though. That could have gone a lot worse.”
“You’re welcome,” Dwight said. He looked down at his hand, remembering the warm, amazingly soft feeling of Kenneth squeezing it so tightly. “Thanks for…” he trailed off.
“For what?”
“For… For, um… Letting me loan Bryce my clothes so we wouldn’t get into trouble,” Dwight finished lamely.
Edited June 8, 2021 by segaface
(see edit history) |
I saw this prompt on Tumblr for a story where a character who is not normally bladder-shy, suddenly is in a particular situation and gets really confused by it. I've also kinda been wanting to do a fic where Kenneth has to help Dwight go, so I decided to use them for the prompt. The idea for the situation comes from my partner telling me that if he's trying to pee while in a vehicle, he can't go if he can feel it moving. Like, if he's got to use a bottle in the car, the car's got to be stopped first or else he won't be able to. Decided to give Dwight the same issue here.
***
Dwight was confused.
Here he was, his bladder ready to explode, standing at a toilet, and nothing was happening. He couldn’t understand it. He’d been needing to go for ages as he waited for the train, Bryce refusing to let him use the restroom at the station because there was going to be a toilet on the train and he didn’t want Dwight to cause them to be late. Dwight had been nervous that Bryce wasn’t telling the truth— The last train he’d been on had had no facilities— but, once he was able to walk about and explore, he quickly found the place he needed to visit, locked himself inside, unzipped, and—
Nothing.
His pee just remained where it was. He was constantly aware of the movement of the train. Every few seconds a bump would not only make his bladder spasm, but make his body tighten and clench, preventing anything from coming out. It was really freaking him out; He’d only gotten ‘frozen up’ like this once in his life when someone had been bothering him too much. Every other time he’d ever peed, it hadn’t mattered where he was or who was near him, he’d just go.
But, that wasn’t happening now.
He felt a weird fear seize him. Was this how it felt to be Kenneth? Dwight had seen many, many times just how painful having a shy-bladder could get for his friend. He’d seen Kenneth doubled over in tears, red in the face with humiliation as his holding muscles continued to refuse to grant him what he needed. Dwight didn’t want to know what it felt like to be that desperate and still unable to release his flood.
He mashed the flat of his palm over his bladder and practically jumped out of his skin when the pain pulsed through him. Good God! It felt like his urethra was burning, and like his entire lower half was gonna disintegrate! But, even with the unfathomable amount of pressure his poor bladder suddenly found itself under, it didn’t release. The confused dread he felt amplified; Maybe there was something wrong with him? Like, could his ‘pipes’ be plugged up with something somehow? Was this what a kidney stone did?
A loud knock resounded off the door and Dwight sighed. He’d been here too long, and it didn’t look like he was gonna get any peeing done in the next few minutes, anyway. He reluctantly zipped back up, and a violent spasm crashed through his bladder as he turned away from the toilet he needed so badly. Just the mental affect of leaving behind the place he was supposed to be able to get relief seemed to make his urge deepen and bloom into a very severe state of need. Frustration surged into his mind; If his bladder was seriously this full, then why the Hell wouldn’t it empty when he told it to?!
He opened the door and stepped aside as another man headed in. Then, he returned to his seat with Kenneth and Bryce. “Have you handled yourself now?” Bryce asked in a bored tone.
Dwight was too… Not ashamed, but rather… Apprehensive, to admit that he’d been unable to make himself go. He just nodded and resigned himself to holding it a bit longer. He’d try again later.
Dwight spent the next half hour squirming in place, grinding his thighs together and jiggling his knees. He kept looking at the door to the restroom, wishing he could try again. But, it hadn’t been long enough. Kenneth and Bryce both thought he’d just peed. Going again now would raise questions. He had to wait longer. Just a tiny bit longer, until it would be okay, and Dwight could relieve his poor bladder.
He didn’t last much longer, however. His bladder was swollen and convulsing beneath his belt, and the feeling of heaviness was just awful! It was well and truly an emergency now, and he was certain that whatever weird thing was going on earlier wouldn’t happen again; He was just too full to not be able to pee!
He stood to his feet, ignoring the look Bryce gave him, and shuffled back to the restroom on stiff legs, with his arms kept straight against his sides so he didn’t hold onto himself. He locked the door to the toilet, tugged down his zip and took aim. This was gonna feel amazing…
Every few seconds, though, he felt slight jolting beneath his feet. And every time it happened, he clenched. His pee refused to come out, his muscles refused to ease. He finally made the connection between the sensation of movement and the strange tightening of his sphincters, and felt a bit ridiculous. He was about to burst, but getting jostled around a little bit was preventing him from going?
If that was the cause, he supposed he was a little less scared. Nothing was wrong with his body—Apart from the fact it was completely filled with piss, anyway. Deciding that maybe the bumpiness wouldn’t affect him as badly if he wasn’t trying to stand and aim, he pulled his pants down the rest of the way, sat himself down, and waited for what was sure to be a magnificent flood of relief.
And waited.
And waited…
The panic was returning now. Every time he felt himself getting bounced, he clenched and braced himself against the toilet. He kept feeling like the pee was starting to trickle through his overtaxed urethra, only for the feeling to fade back into the desperate pulsating misery of his bladder yet again.
It hurt. It hurt so much.
There was another knock on the door, and Dwight sighed to himself. He didn’t know what to do now. Apparently, he couldn’t pee. But, he couldn’t not pee, either. The excruciating contractions shooting through his middle made him want to scream. He realized with some dismay that his knees had started to bounce and he was twisting on his hips; He was squirming up a storm despite being on a toilet where he was free to pee as much as he wanted!
And, oh, how he wanted to pee! He wanted to pee out an entire ocean! He wanted to pee until his body was so dried out he looked shriveled! He wanted to pee until this awful, impossibly painful trembling of his straining pelvic muscles finally evaporated!
God… He just wanted to pee!
More knocking, much sharper and ten times more impatient, and Dwight gave up once more. He cringed as he got to his feet, hands pressing almost cruelly against his exposed dick for a moment before he finally pulled his pants back up and zipped. He couldn’t bring himself to close his belt, just the feeling of his pants cutting into the round, hard curve of his aching bladder was making him rock his hips back and forth and squeeze himself even tighter.
He opened the door, certain he was going to look more than a little disheveled to whomever was on the other side. And, of course, it just had to be Bryce. “Finally, I’m bursti—“ Bryce stopped and looked Dwight’s body up and down, eyeing his pink, flushed face. “What in the world were you doing in there?”
“Peeing,” Dwight lied.
Bryce was about to retort, but evidently he was more eager to empty his own bladder than he was to tease Dwight. Even if Bryce didn’t say anything more, he still managed to taunt Dwight quite a bit without even realizing it. Because, only a second later, Dwight was unable to block out the sound of Bryce’s zipper being pulled, and especially not the sound of his relieved sigh as a stream of liquid began to trickle out of him.
Dwight threw himself down into his seat beside Kenneth, cringing as this succeeded in sending a sharp tremor of need through his pulsing bladder. He clenched his holding muscles tight, and fought not to grip himself again. He crossed his legs together, and the relief this granted was nice, but lasted only a couple seconds. A sudden spasm rocketed through him and he couldn’t stop himself from doubling over. “Kenneth…” He said. “H—How much longer until we arrive?”
Kenneth gave his friend an odd look. He was confused. It looked as though Dwight needed a pee in the worst way, but he couldn’t figure out why. As far as Kenneth knew, Dwight had just emptied his bladder a couple minutes ago. Even when Kenneth had had that awful infection, he hadn’t needed to go this often! Maybe it wasn’t a need to pee that was troubling him, maybe it was something else. “Are you okay?” Kenneth asked. “Are you motion sick?”
In a way, Dwight supposed he was. The feeling of being on a moving vehicle had rendered him incapable of peeing, and he had to go so incredibly badly that he was actually starting to feel nauseous. “Nnno,” Dwight said nervously.
“What’s wrong?” Kenneth asked. “You look… Not okay.”
Dwight couldn’t believe he felt anxious about admitting his problem to Kenneth of all people— The man whose shoulders he’d rubbed for minutes on end countless times just to coax him into taking a badly needed piss. The man whom he’d shared everything with since they were eight years old. The man that was the entire reason he got up in the morning, and the one thing he was sure he could never live without.
“It’s…” Dwight winced and kicked his feet out, before drawing them back closer towards his body— A small spurt had just wet the front of his boxers. He was losing it… “I… I have to pee. Bad.”
Kenneth tilted his head in bafflement; “You just went,” he pointed out.
“I didn’t,” Dwight said. “I tried to, but—“
Bryce returned and sat himself across from them. “You are whispering,” he said. “I do not like it when you whisper— And what in the world is wrong with Smith?”
“We were talking about how you need a nose-job!” Kenneth snapped.
Bryce stared at Kenneth for a moment, his expression transforming into a scowl. “Oh, when we get back, I’m going to make you march until your feet fall off,” he warned.
“We’re gonna go look around,” Kenneth informed. “Come on, Dwight.”
Once they were away from Bryce, and in a secluded area, Dwight whispered furiously to Kenneth as he bent almost double at the waist. “What the Hell did you say that for!? Now he’s mad!”
“Yes,” Kenneth said. “But, he is distracted. He has forgotten about all that squirming you were doing.”
“So, you did that so—Ah—“ Dwight’s hands flew between his thighs, his legs pressed together. “Ssso that he wouldn’t figure out I have to— Oooh— Really, really have to pee?”
“Exactly,” Kenneth said. “Now, what is wrong? Why have you not gone?”
“I can’t,” Dwight said.
“Huh?” Kenneth asked. “But, you don’t have… My… Um… You know… My ‘thing’…” His voice got softer and softer with each word, until he was speaking so quietly that not even a bat would be able to pick up on the sound.
“I don’t,” Dwight agreed, remembering all those wonderful, easy times where he’d just peed in whatever location he felt like going that wouldn’t get him into trouble. He’d just feel the urge, turn around, and let it flow nice and simply. This situation was like being on an alien planet. “It’s… I can’t go when we’re moving,” he admitted. “I tried standing and sitting, and I just— I don’t know. I couldn’t relax.”
Kenneth had never even tried to pee in a moving vehicle before, it was a foregone conclusion that it would be impossible for him. He hadn’t expected Dwight to struggle with it, though. If Kenneth had a shy bladder, then Dwight had an extroverted one. More than once, Kenneth had been a little embarrassed by his friend’s tendency to just whip it out and pee whenever they were outside, no matter how many people were around. Although, if he were being honest, Kenneth felt not just embarrassment but perhaps a small touch of envy in those moments as well. His friend could get relief right away, without a moment’s thought to his surroundings. Meanwhile, Kenneth would be stuck holding it and holding it until a secluded space presented itself, and then still he’d normally need Dwight to come rub his back and soothe him into going…
Oh.
“How about I help you?” Kenneth asked softly. “Like, how you help me? Do you think that would make it better?”
Dwight was willing to try anything to get this piss out of himself, and he nodded. “Yeah. Okay,” he said graciously. “But, let’s try it in the toilet in the back of the train?”
Kenneth had thought Dwight would want the shortest walk possible! “Wh—“
“I just… I don’t want Bryce to see us go into the restroom together…” Dwight said.
“Oh, okay.”
Shortly, the two were in the restroom. Dwight had suffered more than a little bit of leakage on the walk there, but rather than dismay he felt hopeful— Maybe since he’d started going in his pants he’d finally be able to let it out!
It was a tight fit for the both of them, though. Even with as small as they were, there wasn’t much space. They didn’t need too much space though, Dwight didn’t think. He unzipped and aimed, hoping his pee would spray out automatically like it usually did. Of course, that wasn’t what happened, though. “Nnnnhhh…”
“It’s okay,” Kenneth said, gripping his friend’s shoulders. “I’ve got you. I’ll keep you nice and steady.”
Some of the tension in Dwight’s body loosened then, Kenneth felt his shoulders slacken ever so slightly. Still, his bladder remained taut and full.
“I’ve got you,” Kenneth repeated. “Um… Breathe in now.”
Dwight did.
“Let it out.”
Dwight exhaled.
Kenneth tightened his grip, “Breathe in.”
Inhale.
“Breathe out.”
Exhale.
Kenneth continued instructing Dwight to breathe, holding onto him tightly, and trying to make the bumps beneath their feet feel a little less jarring.
The deluge began suddenly; A gush of clear, hot urine hissed in a rapid torrent into the toilet. Dwight’s head dropped forward and his eyelids fluttered blearily as a groan fell from his lips. The sound of Dwight’s pleasure-filled, almost perverse moaning told Kenneth that it was a good thing Bryce hadn’t seen them enter this space together— Who knew what ideas he’d come up with when he heard that!
Dwight’s bladder kept pouring away, bliss flooding every nerve and synapse, the wondrous sensations of release practically overwhelming him. After a few more seconds of intense, nonstop spraying, Dwight realized that Kenneth was holding him. Kenneth was holding him, and rubbing his shoulders, and speaking so very softly into his ear. So much affection from Kenneth was rare, and hearing his friend talk in anything below a shout was rarer still. Fluffy, tender feelings crashed down upon Dwight, and it made the relief of finally peeing after such a long hold feel even better.
The spill continued to build in intensity, showing no sign of stopping any time soon. Kenneth didn’t comment on it, simply continued standing there and holding his friend until at last Dwight’s firehose petered out and the final drips had fallen.
“Better?” Kenneth asked, just as Dwight always had for him.
“Yes, that’s a lot better,” Dwight said as he zipped up. “Thank you. I needed that.” He wondered if Kenneth would be okay with a hug… He badly wanted to wrap his arms around Kenneth and pull him into a tight embrace. Purely out of gratitude of course, he told himself. Nothing else.
To his surprise though, Kenneth was the one to hug him. “I hope you’re not sore later, Dwight,” he said. “And, if this happens again on the way back, you know where to find me.” |
Thanks!
***
The handcuffs were supposed to be for their captured enemies, but now they were joining Kenneth and Bryce together by their wrists. “Explain to me what you were trying to do when this happened,” Dwight prompted.
“I was demonstrating how they worked,” Bryce said.
“They’re handcuffs,” Dwight said. “Who needs a demonstration? Everyone knows how they work!”
“That’s what I said!” Kenneth added. “But, Bryce insisted that there’s a certain way you have to test to make sure the person can’t break out of them, and next thing I knew, he was cuffing himself to me.” He didn’t add that he’d been on his way to the restroom when Bryce had insisted on this idiotic demonstration, and that now his bladder was really starting to throb.
“And, I guess the test was successful?” Dwight gathered. “You can’t break out of them?”
“Not at all,” Kenneth said. “This dumbass lost the freaking key!”
“How dare you speak to your superior with such language!?” Bryce barked.
“What else am I supposed to call you!?” Kenneth demanded. “You handcuffed yourself to someone without checking to make sure you knew where the key was first!”
“We’ll just get them cut off,” Bryce pointed out. “Tomorrow, when we’re back from our marching drill, I’ll be able to look for something to use on them.”
“T—Tomorrow!?” Kenneth stammered. No. No way in Hell. He would not be able to handle being glued to Bryce’s side for that long. Especially not when he badly needed to—
“Yes, tomorrow,” Bryce said. “You and Smith have both been slacking on your drills, and I need to be sure you are in shape.”
“How am I supposed to march when I’m freaking attached to you!?”
“I have noticed you struggle with moving in time with others, this will give you an opportunity to correct that,” Bryce said.
“But, I— I can’t be attached to you for that long,” Kenneth stammered. “There are… Things I have to be alone for.”
“You’ll just have to postpone your next jerk-off session one night,” Bryce said.
Kenneth wasn’t sure if the heat filling him up was embarrassment or fury. “That’s not what I— I need to—“
“You need to be quiet,” Bryce interrupted. “This will be much less painful— For me— if you just stop saying things.”
Kenneth went silent. He didn’t want to tell Bryce he needed a pee, but he knew he had to. He couldn’t go with Bryce right next to him, and his bladder was already uncomfortably full. He hadn’t relieved himself since early that morning, and now it was late afternoon. He couldn’t last until tomorrow! “Bryce, I need—“
“Shh!” Bryce interrupted. He knew exactly what Kenneth needed, and he knew that he could easily break them free of their handcuffs before they went out into the woods to march. But, after losing to the twerp in a holding contest, he greatly desired to see Kenneth’s limit broken. Knowing that Kenneth couldn’t relieve himself in his presence, Bryce thought he had a good chance at seeing him drenched, shaking and sobbing at some point in the next several hours.
Once they were in the woods and their drill had begun, Bryce continually instructed Kenneth and Dwight to hydrate. Kenneth was obviously very wary of each sip he took, and at one stage was clearly just faking that he’d swallowed some water.
It wasn’t until Dwight needed his first pee break that he realized exactly how big a problem Kenneth’s current situation was going to pose for him. As his own bladder emptied, Dwight couldn’t help but worry about the state Kenneth’s was in. He couldn’t even get Kenneth alone and ask him if he was alright, because Bryce would still be right there. And, he didn’t think his usual methods for helping his friend out would work with someone else so close— Especially if that person was Bryce!
Dwight finished up and wondered if he ought to hold his own pee until tomorrow out of solidarity with his friend. Wait. Until tomorrow? Surely Kenneth couldn’t do that, could he? But, what choice did he have? Dwight had seen Kenneth hold it for twenty hours straight before, he’d once seen Kenneth actually try to piss his pants so the pain of his full bladder would go away, but not be able to do it. He’d seen Kenneth so desperate for a pee that he was sobbing from the agonizing hurt, and incapable of walking, yet still not be able to just release until Dwight had pulled out all the stops to put him at ease.
Dwight and Kenneth spent almost every second in one another’s company, so Dwight tried to remember when it was that Kenneth had last gone. It had been… Immediately after they’d woken up. Meaning Kenneth had already held it much longer than Dwight could, and had countless hours left to wait until he and Bryce would be unjoined. Dwight looked over at his friend with great concern; Kenneth was gnawing his knuckles like they were chicken wings, and having clear trouble marching like Bryce ordered him to. It was clear he needed a pee pretty bad.
Bryce, on the other hand, was delighted by Kenneth’s obvious distress. He kept pretending that he didn’t know why Kenneth was tripping over his feet so much and attempting to somehow march and cross his legs together at the same time. He insisted Kenneth was only so clumsy because of dehydration, and instructed him to drink even more. He forced so much water down Kenneth’s throat that Kenneth ought to have sprouted gills!
Then, when Bryce began to feel a bit of urgency in his own bladder, he saw an opportunity. “Paulson, I apologize,” he began, trying to keep the amusement he felt out of his voice. “But, I simply must relieve myself now. I know it is not time for a break, but you don’t mind, do you? It’s an emergency, I just have to go so bad, you have no idea!”
Kenneth bit back a groan that would have immediately told Bryce that he definitely did have an idea. Kenneth was still under the impression that Bryce didn’t know what was bothering him, and he intended to keep it that way as long as he could. He just nodded, knowing that Bryce would duck off for a piss no matter what Kenneth had said.
Bryce dragged Kenneth behind a bush and unzipped himself, a powerful jet of urine wetting the grass at his feet. “Ahhhhh,” he exhaled, deliberately shivering in the most exaggerated manner he could. “That feels really good… I needed this…”
Kenneth started to shift his weight from foot to foot. The sound of Bryce’s stream spraying out was like a knife to his bladder. The convulsions that tore through him made Kenneth want to unzip and at least try, but he knew nothing would come of it and he’d only end up feeling worse, if anything.
About an hour later, Kenneth was fighting back whimpers and whines. He could barely breathe, and he definitely couldn’t manage to march. Still pretending he had no clue why Kenneth was so shaky on his feet, Bryce gave a groan; “I suppose we have done this long enough for one day, it is getting late. We should get some rest.”
Although ‘rest’ was the furthest thing from Kenneth’s desperate mind, he thought that perhaps this would be good for him. Maybe, when Bryce fell asleep, Kenneth could just turn over a bit, unzip, and actually get everything out. He hoped with all his heart that that would work.
Bryce laid down in the dirt, tugging Kenneth down harshly. The impact of falling beside his enemy caused the first spurt of liquid to shoot from Kenneth’s overtaxed urethra. “Nng!” he cried.
“Bryce,” Dwight called over to him. “Don’t hurt him, please.”
“Not my fault he can’t even lay down correctly,” Bryce replied.
Kenneth gritted his teeth and took short, choppy breaths as he tried to regain control over himself. After that first leak, two more had pulsed through immediately afterward. It felt like his pelvic muscles had caught fire, and he clenched them as hard as he could, tightening his thighs and praying that he could get out of this without having an accident in front of Bryce. He hadn’t even brought a change of clothes, not that he wanted to have to disrobe while tied to Bryce.
Kenneth just hoped Bryce would fall asleep quickly. It was the only way, Kenneth knew, that he’d be able to remedy his plight.
Dwight fell asleep fast; Kenneth could hear him start to snore. Normally, the sound of Dwight snoring was strangely soothing to Kenneth. It was strange, but he actually slept better if Dwight was snoring near him, it was a constant reminder that he was close. Trying to sleep without hearing it would set Kenneth on edge, reminding him that he and Dwight were separated for some reason.
But, tonight, the noise wasn’t as comforting. Kenneth worried that it would keep Bryce awake longer. Kenneth kept glancing beside himself to Bryce, hoping to see his chest begin to slowly rise and fall, hoping to see his features slacken, hoping to hear him snore like Dwight was; All the things that would confirm he was so deeply asleep he wouldn’t bear witness to Kenneth spraying a gallon of piss into the grass.
Kenneth had begun to ponder the logistics of how exactly he was going to do that. The handcuffs did not allow him very far to move away from Bryce. He’d literally have to unzip and gush it out right next to where he was going to sleep. That was going to be so disgusting; he’d have to smell it all night and worry about accidentally getting some of it on himself.
But, at the same time, being forced to smell his piss all night long was still going to be monumentally better than keeping it inside of himself for all that time. Now that he was laying down, his urge had increased to an unfathomable level; Whenever he badly needed to pee, if he laid down, it just got ten times worse! He could seriously feel the way his skin stretched to accommodate the pulsing misery inside him. His thighs were now squeezed so tightly that he was starting to feel sore. His legs were tangled together to such an absurd degree he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d cut off the blood circulation. The hand that was not entrapped by the cuffs was gripping onto his member like he’d grip onto a ledge if he’d ever found himself dangling off a cliff. Still, it didn’t feel like it was enough!
He wished he could use his second hand— One hand just didn’t give him enough pressure to stop his flood. He needed a double-handed hold, but he couldn’t do that without disturbing Bryce and, worse, inadvertently moving Bryce’s hand way, way too close to the most private area of his body.
Please… Please just fall asleep? Kenneth silently begged in his head. I can’t take it much longer! He’d been desperate to pee before more times than he cared to count. He’d been in numerous situations where his urgency had begun to get genuinely painful. He’d held it for hours upon hours on numerous occasions. But… This time he… He’d genuinely never felt anything like this time.
All the water Bryce had forced him to consume throughout the day, all the hours and hours he’d been made to hold it… It was all catching back up to him fast forward. He’d heard people say that they need to pee so badly they feel like they’re going to explode several times, but none of them had known the true meaning of that phrase in the way that Kenneth did now. He felt the most horrific pain assail his back; He’d felt that before, but never to this degree. It felt like his entire lower back had been trampled on by a stampede of raging buffalo. The grotesque weight within his middle felt less like a full bladder, and more like a serious medical ailment; It was the kind of pain that justified a stay in the hospital. His bladder was a swollen, hard boulder and he fought to breathe around it. His lungs burned, his legs ached from how tightly they were clenched, his dick hurt from the bear-trap like grip his hand had upon it.
It made him want to scream. It made him want to break down into sobs. It made him want to pee! He had to… He just had to, right here, right now! It didn’t matter if Bryce was still awake, he needed it out, and he needed it out now, or else he was certain he would actually die. He gingerly released his cock, and fought to get his belt apart with the use of only one hand. Even when his belt was unclasped and no longer pressing against the firm swell of his bloated bladder, there was no relief. He was so full that nothing he did helped ease the hurt even a little.
He tugged down his zip, harshly turned over on his side, and hoped that when it came out, it did so with enough force he didn’t splash himself.
But, it didn’t come out with very much force. Because, it didn’t come out at all.
The first tear fell from the corner of his eye, and it made him angry. That was not the sort of liquid he needed to expel; It wasn’t the type of release that made him feel better, that made the pain stop, it was the type of release that made him into a weak, soft little excuse for a human being.
The pain in his back somehow managed to worsen, now it felt like he was being violently whipped by the strongest man in the universe. Along with the mind breaking bolts of pain assailing his body, memories assailed his mind. Memories of himself, small and frightened, clutching himself and shaking, but unable to stop wave after wave of urine from trickling down his crossed legs. Tears beginning to fall down his face as he knew the punishment that was to follow.
His father laughing; “God, you’re a pathetic little brat, aren’t you? Can’t hold your piss like a big boy, so you’re gonna cry about it?”
More sobbing, more pain, being beaten so badly he couldn’t even crawl away…
Kenneth tried to fight the memories back, but they were all he could see anymore, and all he could feel was the agony of his desperation.
Bryce popped his head up and looked over at Kenneth’s trembling, shaking body. “What’s the matter, Paulson?” he asked in a soft, taunting tone.
“Shhhhut up, Bryce,” Kenneth pleaded brokenly.
Bryce reached for his glasses and put them on, “Ohhh, I see. Poor Paulson can’t go pee because I’m too close to him, isn’t that right?”
“Please shut up,” Kenneth repeated, and his voice was odd. It didn’t sound right. It took Bryce a second, but then he figured it out; There was no anger in Kenneth’s tone. No rage. No frustration. Just… nothing.
Kenneth forced himself up onto his knees, still aiming his cock into the grass even though he knew now that nothing would be leaving his bladder. He felt so pathetic. This was such a basic thing. It should have been automatic. It should have been natural. He shouldn’t have had to try to do this, it should have just happened. He squeezed his eyes shut as tears flowed with the ferocity he wished that his pee could.
“Well, I guess that’s too bad, isn’t it?” Bryce asked. “Can’t even manage to figure out how to take a—“
Bryce’s taunts were cut off by a realization; Kenneth was crying. Not just crying, but sobbing. Shudders tore through his body as he struggled to catch his breath, his eyes puffy and tearful. What…? Kenneth had never cried any of the other times Bryce had insulted him, he’d just responded in kind, and Bryce didn’t think his latest bit of teasing had been any harsher than anything else he’d ever said to Kenneth.
“It…hurts…” Kenneth sniveled. “Make it stop… Please… It hurts…” He was bawling, and Bryce didn’t think Kenneth was even actually talking to him. Nor was Kenneth just talking to himself. He was pleading with some unseen entity— Maybe God?— to put a stop to his suffering. “I can’t… I can’t take it…” He could barely get the words out, his tone was wet and phlegmy, he was crying so hard. “I can’t… Just… Please…”
When Bryce understood that it was the pain that was causing his enemy to cry, he felt something new. He’d seen Kenneth get shot several times. He’d seen Kenneth break his fingers. He’d seen Kenneth mauled by wasps. But, he’d never once seen Kenneth shed a tear during any of it. Kenneth took pain like it was nothing, insisting that no injury, no matter the severity, could stop him.
But now, needing to pee was so agonizing that it had rendered him to this shaking, sobbing mess? Bryce had always thought that if he ever got to see Kenneth completely come apart and break, it would feel good. But, this didn’t feel good at all. Kenneth had freaking huge eyes— Bryce had made fun of him for them on many occasions— and now they were magnified by all the tears. The sight made Bryce feel like he’d just kicked a puppy. Bryce dropped his voice; “Hey…” He said timidly. “No— Don’t… Don’t cry.”
Kenneth continued sobbing. It was not just the woeful torment assailing his midsection that was causing his tears to continue, but the knowledge that, of all people, it had to be Bryce who saw him in this terribly wretched state. “Just… Say what you’re gonna say,” Kenneth managed to choke out around the suffering weight that seemed to now be encompassing his entire body.
Bryce had long ago come up with a whole host of nasty things he’d love to say to Kenneth if the other ever made the mistake of crying while in his presence. But, now that the moment had come, Bryce found he no longer had any desire to say any of them. “It’s… It’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated instead. “I’m sorry that I did this…”
Kenneth carried on, he didn’t understand why Bryce was suddenly speaking so nicely to him. Surely, the other shoe would drop soon and Bryce would do something terrible, like haul off and punch him as hard as he could right in the bladder, and immediately laugh when unfathomable amounts of pain fired through Kenneth’s abused body.
Bryce didn’t punch him though, he just kept repeating how sorry he was. The only thing he did was help Kenneth onto his feet, apologizing every time Kenneth winced from the hurt. “Hey… Um… You know what?” Bryce gestured with his free hand to the thick glasses Kenneth was always teasing him about. “Remember the day you hid my glasses from me, and I yelled at a bush for thirty minutes because I thought it was you?”
Kenneth tried to nod, his entire body spasming and his tears slowing only slightly.
“Well… Then you know how totally blind I am without these things, don’t you?” Bryce continued. He removed his glasses and placed them in his pocket. “I can’t see anything now, Paulson, especially not with the dark. You’re just a fuzzy blob, I wouldn’t be able to make out anything you do now if I tried.”
Kenneth’s teary eyes widened. He took aim and tried to relax and let out everything that had accumulated in his poor bladder onto the ground at his feet.. Still, the valve stayed welded shut, and a wail of anguish tore through his throat.
That wasn’t enough, Bryce realized. What… What is it that Dwight always does for him? “Um… Okay, Paulson. Uh… Breathe in now.”
Kenneth had to take a few seconds to get his crying under control enough to obey, but he did eventually.
“That’s good,” Bryce said. After a few seconds he was reasonably sure that his free hand was rubbing its way down Kenneth’s arm. “It’s alright… I can’t see what you’re doing… I’ll—I’ll even shut my eyes for you, too!” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Now, breathe out…”
Kenneth did so.
“In and out, that’s good,” Bryce praised. “Stay calm…”
Kenneth shut his eyes as well, when he did that, he could almost pretend it was Dwight rubbing his arm and not Bryce. Their voices were distinctly different, but Bryce had adopted that soothing, slow tone Dwight had always used for him, and it almost felt the same…
Release did not come quickly to Kenneth; Even when his bladder finally eased and decided to empty, it did so in a shuddering, dribbly excuse for a stream that was much more like a leaking sink than a shower nozzle cranked to full blast. But, when it happened, the relief Kenneth felt was immense. After not peeing a drop for so, so long even this weak, dismal trickle felt like absolute Heaven.
He kept trying to picture Dwight in his head. It was Dwight that was touching him. It was Dwight that was reminding him to breathe. He told himself this so many times that it started to feel like the truth, and his stream picked up in speed until it actually felt like his bladder was beginning to deflate. When the pain at last began to ebb away, no matter how tight Kenneth clenched his teeth, he couldn’t stop himself from moaning.
As Kenneth moaned and moaned, Bryce had to try very hard not to make any mocking comments. He didn’t want Kenneth to clench back up again; He couldn’t handle seeing that look on his face ever again, he couldn’t handle hearing him cry. Those things hadn’t been the victories he’d always thought they’d be. He didn’t know why; Kenneth was still the annoying thorn in the ass he’d always been, but seeing him lose his sense of pride, his hyperfocus on his ‘image’, and his ability to mouth off when upset… It had been disturbing; Everything that had made his nemesis his nemesis had disappeared, and it felt like the planet was off its axis. Bryce just wanted that little twerp with the big mouth to come back and tell him how stupid he was again.
Going toe-to-toe with Kenneth was fun, kicking him while he was so down and broken just… Wasn’t.
Bryce began to grow a little disturbed by the amount of liquid Kenneth was outputting. He’d known Kenneth’s bladder was huge, but this was more than Bryce had ever heard anyone pee. This was more than he thought possible. If he hadn’t been standing right there, listening to it gush and gush, he never would have believed someone had actually peed out such a huge amount of liquid in one go. Bryce tried to imagine what it would feel like to have that much inside of himself, and he couldn’t do it. It actually started to worry him that Kenneth might be hurt after all this.
Kenneth just kept pouring and pouring, it was like every drop of liquid on Earth had been contained in his overstretched bladder. Shivers and shudders tore up and down his spine and his breathing became nothing but sighs broken apart by pleasure-filled groans. Even all the other times Kenneth had been desperate, the release had never felt anywhere near this good. Kenneth didn’t think anything had ever felt this good. It was a full-body experience of good, every nerve ending was flooded with unbelievable amounts of good. It was hard to tell when he’d completely finished, his stream stopped a few times and he’d thought it was over, only for more long spurts to soak into the absolutely drenched ground between his feet. He’d doused the grass with so much liquid that it would probably continue to grow even if the planet went into a twenty year long drought.
At last, his stream wound itself down to a dribble, and after a few more seconds, he was empty. God… What a wonderful feeling. He stood there, dazed and blinking, becoming re-accustomed to how it felt not to be so full of urine. Reality crept back in slowly, most importantly, the knowledge of who exactly had been with him this whole time.
“Holy fucking shit…” Bryce said once he heard Kenneth’s zipper being pulled back up and was positive the other was finally finished.
“Oh my God…” Kenneth cried, miserable with humiliation. “I… God…”
Bryce clamped his mouth shut. Kenneth still had that broken voice; the one that lacked anger. He still wasn’t himself yet… “Hey… Um… That was impressive?” he tried.
“Sh—Shut up…” Kenneth begged. “Just… Make fun of me for something else, anything else.”
“I’m not making fun of you,” Bryce said. “I mean it, that was impressive. You were… Uh, going… For two minutes, at least. Maybe three. That’s… You are strong, or at least one part of you is.”
Kenneth didn’t reply.
“And, uh… How about we say this… whole thing… counts for your next endurance drill? How about that?”
“Really?” Kenneth asked.
“Yes,” Bryce said. “Putting up with… With holding that takes way more strength than any of our drills would, anyway.”
“Thank you…” Kenneth said. “And… Thank you for… Everything.”
“Hey, if one of my subordinates is so dumb he can’t figure out how to piss, that looks bad on me!”
“A—At least I’m not so dumb I handcuff myself to somebody without making sure I have the key!”
Kenneth was arguing with him again. All was right in the world. |
This one was, again, inspired by a writing prompt on Tumblr.
***
Kenneth did not like going to the bar. It made him uncomfortable. He didn’t like the way they smelled; the harsh odor of alcohol often mixed with cigarette smoke. It was the stench that clung to his Father like spots clung to a leopard. Nothing good ever came from that smell.
Kenneth did not drink, a fact that netted him plenty of teasing from Bryce. Even if Kenneth abstained from alcohol, he was still often required to tag along when Bryce and others who served underneath him visited the bar.
Being in the bar, having to inhale the stench of alcohol, it brought back a whole host of memories that Kenneth wished would just stay buried.
Dwight did not drink either. He only did so one time, but seeing the way Kenneth looked at him after a night of intoxication, like he didn’t know for certain if he could be trusted anymore; It made Dwight decide never to do it again. Dwight couldn’t recall what all he’d done while under the influence, he didn’t know if he’d done anything bad, and Kenneth hadn’t told him. The look in his eyes had been enough to make Dwight decide that a few drinks wasn’t worth Kenneth’s worry that he may turn into an abrasive alcoholic like his Father had been.
The issue was that being the only two sober people in a bar wasn’t very fun. Especially not when one of the people drinking was their superior. Bryce didn’t get any meaner than he usually was when he drank, at least. “Paulson,” Bryce said, slurring the word. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?”
Kenneth glanced at the empty water glasses that lay in front of him, and the single still-full one in his hand. “No, Bryce,” he said. “I am fine.”
“Real men drink, Paulson,” Bryce said. “Stop being such a pansy.”
“You are the one always saying I should present myself better while in uniform, so why are you getting drunk while in yours!?”
“I’m not drunk, Paulson,” Bryce said, though the way he was wobbling said otherwise. “I’m just having fun.”
Kenneth took another sip from his water, more as a way to avoid responding than out of a need to quench his thirst. Because, if there was one thing Kenneth wasn’t in that moment, it was thirsty. He was hydrated enough for five people, and his bladder had made it very clear that it wasn’t very happy about that fact.
This was another reason he hated it when he had to go to the bar with everyone else; He still at least had to drink something so he could avoid feeling too awkward, and these soirees would typically last many, many hours; well into the night. Add to that the restroom at the bar was the furthest thing from ‘private’ and Kenneth would always leave feeling like a small poke to his middle would genuinely cause him to explode into ten thousand pieces.
In spite of how he’d prepared for this, not drinking anything all day, and relieving his bladder seconds before he’d needed to leave, he had once again found himself in a very bad place. When Dwight sat beside him and set down his own glass of water, Kenneth’s eyes fixated upon it against his will; as the water sloshed ever so slightly in the glass, the liquid inside of Kenneth’s bladder seemed to move in time with it.
“I know you hate coming here,” Dwight said quietly. “But, look on the bright side. Maybe Bryce will get so drunk he embarrasses himself again, and we can make fun of him for the next three weeks, at least.
Kenneth tried to force a smile.
Dwight assumed Kenneth’s fidgeting was because the odor of the alcohol laden beverages was bothering him. Dwight had heard that smell was one of the most primitive of the senses, and that nothing could bring back a memory quite as fast as a smell associated with that memory. It made sense Kenneth would be on edge when surrounded by the smell of his monstrous Father.
Kenneth shifted in his seat a little as he turned to Dwight. He lowered his voice; “How much longer do you think we’ll have to stay here?”
Dwight shrugged. “You know how Bryce gets, it could be a few more hours. I’m sorry.” Dwight tried to distract Kenneth from what he was certain was only the scent of the bar.
Kenneth tried to pay attention to the words Dwight was saying, but he couldn’t manage it. All he could think about was how, even if Bryce did get so wasted he humiliated himself, Kenneth was at risk of being even more embarrassed tonight; He imagined himself being one of the only sober people in this building, yet still managing to be the only one to leave it with urine soaked clothes.
He chewed on his pinky as he tried to come up with a way to avoid that fate. But, the image of himself flooding his uniform and the barstool he was sitting in was becoming more and more clear in his mind’s eye. Perhaps, he could go outside somewhere? Pee against the wall of the building? It was late, very dark and few people around. Maybe he could do that?
His bladder sent a sharp twinge that made him cross his legs; It seemed to think that that was a fine idea! But, Kenneth hated himself for even thinking of it. There were perfectly fine toilets not but a short walk from his current position, yet he was thinking of urinating onto a wall like an animal instead? And really, who was he kidding? He couldn’t just let it flow on a public street, no matter how deserted that street may be. He knew what would happen; He’d lock up, smash his hand into his bladder to no avail, and leave a handful of minutes later feeling so frustrated he could scream, and so desperate he could cry.
No. He would not do it. It would be a waste of time. But, even in the few short minutes he’d spent thinking that awful plan over, his kidneys had continued pumping more and more water into a bladder that could no longer accommodate more liquid. Without really thinking, he slid himself off the barstool. His short stature had meant his feet did not even come close to touching the ground when he’d been in it, and when they hit the ground tremors of need ricocheted up the lines of his legs and pummeled his bladder with no mercy. “Nnnh!” he whined aloud, skipping in place with his eyes scrunched tight.
Dwight watched his display and realized that it wasn’t just the smell of alcohol that was causing Kenneth so much discomfort. His mind raced, trying to come up with a solution as he watched his friend’s hips twist and his weight rock back and forth upon his heels. “Kenneth, do you—“
“B—Be back in a minute!” Kenneth said, walking a little twistedly through the crowd. He didn’t know what he was doing, he knew this wouldn’t work, he knew he’d only make himself angry… Still, he tried to allow himself a tiny glimmer of hope as he flung open the door to the men’s room. Please, he thought. Please, let me do this. It’s an emergency.
This was, perhaps, the single worst public restroom Kenneth could have picked to try this impulsive little ‘experiment’ in. The urinals were visible from the doorway, and none of them had a partition between them. Three men were stood at them, blissfully letting go as Kenneth tried to block out the sounds of their streams.
One urinal remained between two of the guys, but Kenneth wasn’t even going to try that. He couldn’t even manage that sort of thing in his wildest dreams. Literally. He’d had numerous dreams— nightmares, really— in which he’d been absolutely bursting to pee, and the only available place to do it was in a urinal between two people he didn’t even know. In his dreams, the people beside him would always gush implausibly loudly, moaning with relief as he begged and pleaded with his body and mind to just let him do the same thing. Sometimes, the urinals would even be on a big stage somewhere. Every time he woke up from such a dream, his bladder would feel on the verge of rupturing, and he’d barely manage to hobble to the restroom in time.
He had a feeling that the dream wasn’t merely letting him know that, in the waking world, his bladder was getting full. It was probably trying to tell him something else, too.
Kenneth stumbled on shaky legs past the urinals towards the stalls. He stepped inside the first one and turned to lock it… But the lock had been broken off. The second stall didn’t have a door at all, obviously the result of some kind of vandalism. The third stall had a lock, but also a window, because clearly Kenneth had managed to piss off a very incompetent architect in one of his past lives or something. Still, Kenneth decided the third stall was his best bet. He fumbled the lock into place, unclasped his belt, fought with his buttons for a few maddening seconds, then yanked down his zip. Finally, free to pee to his heart’s content, his sphincters decided it was time to remember how to hold it in.
His bladder cramped and spasmed, angered by the fact a toilet was now within Kenneth’s field of vision, yet still not being used. Kenneth winced and shuddered, dreading what he was about to do to himself, but knowing it was the only hope he had left. He smashed his hand against his lower abdomen as hard as he could. The pain that followed this was enough to make him yelp out loud as he fought not to double over on himself. His middle felt like it was made of stone, and his hand was like a sledgehammer attempting to shatter it. But, the sledgehammer was not powerful enough. All it could do was scrape the stone, not destroy it. All Kenneth could do was make his bladder hurt worse, not empty it.
He felt his eyes begin to sting as he dug his hand into his flesh harder and harder, praying for a miracle; Please, God. Just a drop. Just one drop, that’s all I’m asking!
But, he couldn’t have even that. The alcohol smell was strong even in here, and the scent of nicotine was more powerful inside the restroom than anywhere else. The stench swirled around Kenneth, penetrated his nostrils and worked its way into his brain; What would Father say to him if he were alive to see him in this wretched of a state? What would Father do to him?
“Christ, brat…” Father had said so many times. “Do you think I am standing here for my fucking health? You have five seconds to piss, and if you don’t do it, there will be all Hell to pay. Do you understand me?!”
And, young Kenneth would tremble and shake, so overcome with equal parts terror and urgency, mushing his little hand into his rock hard bladder, begging it to empty so that Father wouldn’t beat him and he wouldn’t have to suffer the shame of another accident later on.
But, it never worked. It never, ever worked. Nothing ever worked.
In the present, Kenneth tried to shake off the memories, he tried to shake off the fear flooding his veins, he tried to shake off the immense shame pulsing through his mind. But, he couldn’t do any of it. And, he especially couldn’t pee.
It took him several seconds of harsh breathing to stabilize himself enough to zip back up. He hobbled back out of the restroom, wincing when he once again heard streams spraying the urinals.
Within a few minutes, he was back beside Dwight. Dwight took one look at Kenneth’s red face, sweaty body and disheveled hair and knew something had to be done. His friend was miserable and the sight made Dwight’s chest tighten. He had to get Kenneth out of here. Had to get him somewhere else. Anywhere else.
“Ohh,” Bryce said. His voice was even more off-kilter than it had been previously. He turned to the man he’d been chatting to. “This guy…” he flung a hand towards Kenneth. “This is the guy… Paulson, I was just telling…. Uh…”
“Hank,” the man supplied.
“Hank, yeah. I was just telling Hank about how obnoxious you are,” Bryce said.
Kenneth didn’t rise to Bryce’s bait. The insult barely even registered to his ears. All he could hear was the frantic shrieking in his own mind; “GOTTA PEE! GOTTA PEE! GOTTA PEE!” His knees turned inwards towards each other and he rubbed them together as pang after pang pulsed through his body.
“Lemme tell you, Hank,” Bryce said. “Paulson’s got a set of pipes like you wouldn’t believe. If you get him mad, he can yell so loud you’re gonna wish you could shove ice-picks into your ears just to make it stop.”
Kenneth stuffed a hand into his pocket, maneuvering it until he could kind of get a grip on his dick as he stepped in place.
“And, his voice…” Bryce continued. “He is seriously just…So shrill. Five minutes listening to this guy yell, and you’ll have the migraine from Hell, I’m telling you.”
Dwight looked to Kenneth and shrugged. “Sorry… I don’t mind your voice,” he assured.
Bryce raised his glass to his lips and took a sip; “Seriously, just listening to him scream and complain for thirty seconds could have you head for the hills, really.”
Kenneth seized upon that last sentence. He realized something; Sure, maybe there were a lot of things he couldn’t do. He couldn’t reach stuff in high places. He couldn’t lift anything that was particularly heavy. He couldn’t pee while in earshot of other people… But, he did have his talents; He could be loud as absolute Hell and let absolutely everyone in his immediate vicinity know what he wanted, and that they’d better give it to him if they knew what was good for them.
“Dwight,” Kenneth said. “I have a plan.”
Dwight looked around, “You aren’t going to try and prank Bryce again, are you? I know he’s saying mean stuff about you, but—“
“No,” Kenneth interrupted. “It doesn’t involve Bryce. But, even if it works, I still might need you to help me. So, come along, please.”
“…Okay,” Dwight said after a moment.
As Kenneth led Dwight towards the back of the bar, every step he took bounced his bladder as if it were on a rollercoaster. His heart pounded as he hoped that this would work. That this would give him what he needed. He was so close to his limit now, and before he made it to the door, the first leak had already slipped out. He removed his hand from his pocket, squeezed himself properly and jiggled up and down as he tried to both curtail his leak and psyche himself up.
“Kenneth,” Dwight said. “I know, you need to go really bad. But, I can’t follow you into a stall in a crowded public restroom and help you. It wouldn’t look right. Let’s try and find you somewhere outside.”
“Mmmaybe,” Kenneth squeaked out, finally managing to get his spurting back under control. “I want to try something else first, though.” Kenneth was being weirdly cryptic, and now Dwight was concerned his friend was going to try and murder everyone in there so he could piss in private.
But, Kenneth didn’t get violent. Dwight’s confusion only grew with what Kenneth did. Kenneth shoved open the door with enough force it slammed against the wall and bounced back off of it. Then, he opened his mouth and launched into a rant.
Kenneth ranted a lot. Dwight had never minded it. Kenneth had a way of empowering words with such a devil-may-care attitude that his long, rambling speeches about the various things that had annoyed him could usually get Dwight to start to feel something as well.
But, the rant Kenneth had begun now had very little in common with his many, seemingly endless diatribes about how much he hated mosquitos, or how Bryce was an asshole, or anything like that.
“ALRIGHT, EVERYONE! I’VE GOTTA TAKE A MASSIVE FREAKING FIRE-HOSE PISS!” Kenneth yelled at the top of his voice.
What the absolute fuck? was Dwight’s first thought upon hearing that. Usually, Kenneth did everything to avoid saying he had to pee. Instead, he’d say something like “There is an issue I must attend to.” Something that really beat around the bush and could honestly mean anything at all. The fact that a phrase like ‘I’ve gotta take a massive freaking fire-hose piss’ even existed in Kenneth’s vocabulary was a bit of a surprise.
“MY BLADDER IS ON THE VERGE OF RUPTURE, I AM GOING TO FREAKING EXPLODE!” Kenneth continued yelling about how badly he had to pee for a few seconds. The man whom was at the sink gave him a strange, perplexed look and exited. The men at the urinals quickly finished and hurried out. A man that had been on his way to a stall just kind of froze and backed out of the room.
And then, Dwight understood what Kenneth’s angle was.
The room was empty.
When Kenneth realized that, he dashed for a stall and instructed Dwight to assist him as usual, just in case there was still a problem. But, Kenneth didn’t need too much help, just a few seconds of gentle shoulder-rubs and his stream was blasting into the water. “Ohhhh, God, that feels good…” Kenneth murmured. And, it did. Not just the relief of no longer needing to hold back this enormous flood, but the knowledge that he’d used his… ‘unique’ skills to get himself the privacy he needed.
As more and more liquid exited his bladder and splashed into the bowl, Kenneth’s body started to shiver. He knew he shouldn’t take this much pleasure in a basic biological function, but for whatever reason whenever he got a chill while mid-pee, the pleasurable sensation that cascaded over him was just mind-numbing with how good it was. He moaned as the intense feeling swept through him.
Dwight stroked his shoulders some more, “So…” he said. “Um… That?”
Between panting sighs, Kenneth explained. He’d needed to speak a little loudly to be heard over the rush of liquid still spraying full force from his tip. “Got them to leave. So I wouldn’t have to be embarrassed trying to pee around them.”
Dwight blinked a few times, “So wait, it’s NOT embarrassing to—“
“Ahhhh…” Kenneth groaned again. He could practically feel his bloated bladder beginning to shrink back down to its proper size. Somehow, the relief continued to get better and better. It just kept coming and coming, so light and so freeing. He barely knew what to do with himself, all he could do was moan and take it all in.
His stream came to an abrupt finish and he shook himself off before putting his uniform back together.
“…That better?” Dwight asked after an awkward silence.
“Yes. Much relieved,” Kenneth said.
“Well, that’s good…” Dwight trailed off, waiting for the pin to drop. And, he thought. Three… Two…—
“Oh my God…” Kenneth said suddenly. “I can’t believe I said that!”
There it is, Dwight thought. |
Dwight and Kenneth had been tasked with taking inventory of the ammunition for their various weapons. Kenneth knew that Bryce only made them do this so often to keep them busy and out of his way, and he was pretty sure Dwight knew that as well. So, rarely did they actually count out all the bullets, they’d just write a random number down at the end of the day instead. Bryce never actually checked if it was accurate or not.
So, instead of completing their pointless task, the two just sat and talked to each other. It was strange that, even after knowing one another as long as they had, they never seemed to run out of things to talk about. They talked about how much of an ass Bryce was. They talked about their dreams for the future— Kenneth in particular could go off on long-winded speeches about how badly he wanted to go live somewhere bright and sunny by the ocean. They talked about their favorite memories together. They talked about Kenneth’s new favorite thing.
Kenneth had recently discovered a particular kind of orange soda that he really loved. It was so sweet and fizzy, and the flavor was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. The fact they were able to get several cans of it here had been a delight to Kenneth; and he’d downed so many of them that morning. He loved the way the bubbles felt on his tongue, and the way it fizzed all the way down his throat.
As they talked about it though, Kenneth realized he may have really overdone it on the sodas. He couldn’t actually remember how many cans he’d had to drink; He’d started guzzling them basically from the instant he’d woken up and then only stopped because Dwight had reminded him it would be difficult to get more and so he shouldn’t run through them so fast.
He tried to remember… Okay; One when he woke up… One while he waited for Dwight to finish in the restroom… One after he got dressed… One more while he shined his boots… Then another as he walked out of the barrack… And another when Dwight was scolding him to slow down… Then, one more after he and Dwight had come to a compromise.
He nervously counted it up on his fingers; Seven. He’d had seven of them. Seven big cans of fizzy liquid. His knees knocked against each other; How could he have done this? He knew he’d be here ‘working’ all day, he knew he had difficulties with emptying his bladder, how could he have been stupid enough to drink so much?
But, he remembered his new strategy to get everyone out of a public restroom so he could pee via yelling bizarre things until they got uncomfortable and left. He’d just do that again, he decided. “I… Must attend to something,” Kenneth informed Dwight, standing up and briskly walking off.
Dwight was a little confused he hadn’t been asked to accompany his friend; He knew that sayings like “I must attend to something” were just how Kenneth said that he needed to take a pee break, and would have figured he’d want help relaxing like always. Maybe he just wanted to give it a try by himself today, Dwight thought. He wouldn’t press the issue.
Kenneth was soon to learn that his new tactic was not always going to have the desired results. When the occupants he hoped to remove were all strangers to him, then yes his angry screaming and threats were enough to get them to back off. But, when he was dealing with people he knew, it was not going to work at all.
Because, everyone who knew Kenneth knew that he was basically a particularly angry chihuahua that had been given a human body through some strange twist of fate; He had weirdly large eyes, was tiny, and while he may have shouted and made a great deal of noise, he was nowhere near strong enough to pose an actual threat to anyone. He was all bark and no bite.
When Kenneth entered the restroom, his bladder nervously tingling beneath his belt, he tried to use his new strategy on Bryce and some of the other guards. He mustered up the full power of his shrill voice, and shouted out the most vulgar, discomfort-inducing thing he could come up with; “I GOTTA PISS SO FREAKING BADLY! BETTER LEAVE NOW, OR YOU’LL BE CAUGHT IN THE SPLASH-ZONE!”
But, rather than any of them leaving him to his blessed privacy, they just laughed. “If you have to take a piss so damn bad, why don’t you go?” Bryce asked simply.
“I—I, um…” Kenneth tried to call back his angry, loud shouty voice, but now faced with the prospect of trying to relieve himself in such a crowded restroom, his nervousness took over instead. “N—Never mind,” he said, turning for the door and trying to block out the laughter he heard coming from behind him. He told himself this was okay, he didn’t even have to go that bad; Just… It would have been nice to have a pee right about now. But, he didn’t need it. He just wanted it. That was all.
He returned to Dwight and sat back down, before gnawing on his index finger. Dwight noticed immediately and knew that Kenneth’s attempt to relieve his bladder had been unsuccessful. “Kenneth?” Dwight asked. “Do you need something?” He always had to be so careful about asking Kenneth if he was ready for his assistance; One wrong word and Kenneth would become defensive and insist he didn’t need to go at all, then force himself to endure until he was full enough to start leaking. It was always simpler to wait for Kenneth to come to him and ‘demand’ help.
Kenneth preferred to ‘demand’ it. He used a commanding tone and usually finished his requests with something like “And that is an order!” as if he were forcing Dwight to do this against his will. Dwight was pretty sure Kenneth understood that he would always help, that he didn’t need to speak in such a firm tone, but decided it was probably Kenneth’s desire to feel like he had control in an uncontrollable situation. Kenneth may not have been able to command his bladder to empty, but he could command Dwight to help him, and perhaps that made it less humiliating to him.
“N—Need something?” Kenneth repeated, plucking his finger from his teeth.
“Yeah, is there... something you’d like to do?” Dwight tried again, pointedly trying to avoid using the word ‘need’. In Kenneth’s world, to have a need was to have a weakness.
“Oh, yes,” Kenneth nodded now, and Dwight smiled. He’d used the right words; Ones that wouldn’t make Kenneth shut down and hide his fragility behind his egotism. “Yes, I would…” he lowered his voice, even though he and Dwight were the only two people around to hear him. “I would very much like to… to relieve myself.”
“Okay,” Dwight said, trying to act like he’d been unable to tell that Kenneth had to go. “Would you like me to—“
“And I order you to assist me!” Kenneth added, louder now. “If you know what is good for you, you will find me somewhere private at once, and—“
“I will, I will,” Dwight said. “Come on.” He stood and Kenneth followed.
Kenneth felt much better now. He’d started to get worried he’d have to hold it in for too long again, that he would once more find himself filled to the brim with urine and have no way to release it. But, Dwight was here, and Dwight always made it better. Kenneth was gonna get to go before it became an emergency.
Or, so he thought.
When they stepped outside, Bryce was waiting for them. “What are you two doing?” Bryce demanded. “Have you completed your task?”
“…Yes,” Kenneth said after a moment’s hesitation.
“I doubt that,” Bryce shook his head. “You know, last week we ran out of bullets for one of the guns much sooner than we should have. I believe a mistake was made while you were counting, so it’s in the best interest of everyone that I observe you this time and make sure you do it correctly— I am stunned that you are both so stupid you can’t even count, but with me there I’m sure you’ll remember how to do it.”
“Okay,” Dwight said. “You can do that, but first we need a restroom break.”
“Paulson was just in the restroom,” Bryce said. “Sure, he didn’t use it, but that still counts for his break.”
“I haven’t had one yet, though,” Dwight said.
“I don’t care,” Bryce said. “You have work to do. And, if you give me an inaccurate number again, there will be consequences.”
Kenneth’s heart sank, and he hoped they could get this asinine task completed quickly. “Bryce, counting hundreds of bullets by hand is dumb, and you’re dumb for making us do it.”
“That’s a pretty rude way to talk to someone you’re wanting a favor from, wouldn’t you say, you little moronic gnat?”
Dwight sighed, not wanting to be caught up in one of their arguments again. “We’ll probably count better if we don’t have to pee.”
“Or, perhaps a full bladder is the motivation you need to get the job done properly,” Bryce suggested. “Come along now, get back to work.”
Kenneth and Dwight re-entered the storage building. Kenneth grimaced when he saw the huge sack of ammunition on the table. It would take forever to count all that! He sat down, and his belt compressed his bladder, reminding him rather harshly that for some reason he’d thought it would be a good idea to chug down seven cans of soda in under an hour.
It hadn’t felt like too much of an emergency a few minutes ago, when he’d thought relief was right around the corner. But, now that he had to hold it for who knew how long, his urge was cataclysmically strong. He shifted in his seat, shimmying his hips and tapping one of his feet. He was beginning to feel a bit of panic, his need was building and building at an alarming rate. It was as if just the mere knowledge that he had no choice but to keep it all inside of himself was enough to make it feel more urgent.
Half an hour later, and nowhere near finished with Bryce’s pointless busywork, Kenneth was twisting and shuddering in his chair. His belt felt like its true purpose surely must have been to be used as some sort of wicked, bladder-squeezing torture device. He was being forced to take the shortest, most shallow breaths he could as just inhaling too far squished the sensitive walls of his bladder, made his sphincters pulse and beg him for permission to slacken.
He’d bitten his fingers so much that one of them now sported a gash, his legs were so tightly coiled around one another that they’d begun to tingle from the lack of decent blood-flow. Sweat was pouring off of him in waves, which he hoped would help prevent his bladder from filling any further, but by that point it wouldn’t have made much of a difference; the torment assailing his midsection no longer felt like something of this Earth; It now felt wholly unnatural, like a punishment from a cruel and vengeful spirit.
At some point, he’d begun to hold himself with one hand, an action that had slowed down his progress at counting out the ammo tremendously. Not that he could count at all, anyway. His mind was so utterly devoid of any thought that didn’t involve finding somewhere to release the pressure inside his body, that he’d actually managed to momentarily forget what came after two hundred fifty three.
His hand was pressing itself firmly into his groin, and he bucked his hips forwards into the pressure, hoping to take at least a tiny percentage of the edge off his desperation; But, it didn’t work. He needed to go, and he needed to go immediately.
Beside him, Dwight was trying to count as fast as he possibly could. Kenneth’s trembling and the tiny, whimpering whines that he couldn’t stop himself from making were seriously concerning him. This was, perhaps, the most desperate he’d ever seen his friend get, and that was really saying something.
“Br—Bryce!” Kenneth cried out. “I can’t concentrate!”
“Not my problem,” Bryce informed, lazily turning a page in the book he’d been reading.
“There is something I must attend to,” Kenneth squeaked. “And, I— Ahhh!” he exclaimed as the first pulse of urine sprayed from his tip. It hadn’t been a small leak at all, it had felt enormous, like a hose turned on full-blast. “I—I really must take care of this! I will be better able to complete this afterwards!”
“Whatever you have to do,” Bryce said, as if Kenneth wasn’t currently doing what had to be the most blatant pee-dance in recorded history. “It will need to wait until you have finished.”
That could take at least another hour. Kenneth couldn’t wait an hour. He couldn’t wait a minute. After his first agonizing, bursting loss of control, three more had followed. He could feel his thighs growing damp and warm, and his hand pinched his opening closed tighter and tighter.
“Bryce,” Dwight said. “We’ll get done a lot faster if—“
“No.”
Kenneth’s second hand plunged down to join the first already buried between his legs. A second later he realized with some horror that he couldn’t move either of his hands now. They were the last barrier left separating his unbearable agony from transforming into total disgrace. “Nnnnh… Nnnhh…” He squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, wished that he could at least have the small mercy of being alone before he had the accident that now looked inevitable. Why did he have to drink so much soda?! Why?!
Leaks and dribbles continued to push their way past his weakening dam, each one stung his straining urethra on the way out. He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t. He really, really couldn’t. He needed somewhere to go. Anywhere. He’d settle for literally anywhere. Just… He needed it out now!
But, Bryce was here! He’d gone in front of Bryce once before, yes. But, Bryce had been acting… Well, not like himself. He’d been trying to be nice, trying to apologize to Kenneth after realizing he’d gone too far… But, now Bryce was back to his usual assholery, if Kenneth tried to relieve himself somewhere in this room, Bryce would be obnoxious the whole time and do things that would make Kenneth’s shy bladder lock itself up tighter than the gates of Hell.
He had to get Bryce to leave. Then, he’d piss somewhere in this room. In a trash can, in a bottle, and if there weren’t any of those here he’d do it up against the freaking wall. To Hell with the consequences when Bryce inevitably came back and saw the stain he left. Nothing Bryce could do to punish him for urinating in an improper location could compare to the pain he was feeling now from not urinating at all.
He struggled to come up with a way to entice Bryce into getting lost. He writhed against his clenched hands, and to his horror another massive jet of pee shot from his tip. He pressed down harder and harder to stem his flood. “Dwight!” Kenneth whispered, harsh and raspy. “Please, I can’t do it anymore. It’s already… It’s coming out! Please, I gotta do it here somewhere, but Bryce is here— Please, please, please--“
Dwight understood right away. He was a little nervous about trying to trick one of his superiors, but Kenneth had begged him. Kenneth never begged unless he literally could not do without the thing he needed a minute longer. Dwight thought fast; “Bryce,” he said.
“I already told you morons, no leaving this room until—“
“Well, it’s just that I… I, um… I heard something being knocked over outside,” Dwight said finally. “Didn’t you? Perhaps an enemy is here, attempting sabotage?” His heart pounded in his ears as he hoped Bryce bought it.
“… Alright,” Bryce said after a moment. “I’ll go check this out. But, if I come back and either one of you has snuck out the window, there will be Hell to pay.” And with that, he turned sharply on his heel, and walked off.
Even if Kenneth had wanted to sneak out the window, there was no way he could have done it. He was too short to reach it, for one. And, more importantly, all the squeezing would be way, way too much for his bladder. As Kenneth gingerly forced himself to his feet, losing a few more wayward streams along the way, Dwight went over to the door. He frowned when he realized it didn’t lock. “Sorry, there’s no lock,” he said. “But, if you have trouble, I can—“
Zzzzziiip!
Kenneth had yanked his zip down so quickly that the noise was loud enough to make Dwight go quiet. He was surprised Kenneth had found something to pee into so quickly— And then realized his friend had completely foregone that idea and had instead just darted for the closest wall… Which was now being hosed down relentlessly as Kenneth moaned his head off. “Ahhhh… Yesssss….” His eyelids began to flutter, then opened a little wider as he suddenly remembered that he would like a bit more privacy than this; In the moment, as he’d readied himself at the wall, he’d literally been so desperate to just unleash that no other stimuli could register to his brain. Now that he was letting it flow, his awareness of his surroundings had returned. “D-Dwight, please stand behind me while I go, okay?”
Dwight thought it was a little silly that Kenneth would ask for that now, since he’d already been peeing for several seconds, but did as was requested anyway. Being so close to Kenneth as he made all those relieved little noises always felt a bit intimate, but Dwight had never, ever heard Kenneth moan quite this much before. The sound of his piss spattering the wall was loud as Hell too, it hissed and splashed ferociously. Dwight thought it sounded more like he was standing beside an enormous water-ride than a guy emptying his bladder.
Dwight, of course, was aware of how much pee Kenneth could hold. He was aware of how, even when he was letting loose with such an extreme amount of force, it could take him a while to drain completely. As a minute passed, and Kenneth was still spraying like his life depended on it, Dwight began to worry that Bryce would return before Kenneth managed to finish. He considered telling Kenneth to hurry it up, but couldn’t imagine he was capable of pushing it out any harder than he already was, and telling him to cut it off midstream before Bryce came back would just be cruel and unusual.
Kenneth’s knees had begun to buckle underneath him, his entire body was turning into extremely relaxed liquid. He slumped against Dwight’s back, whom quickly turned around and began to support him by the shoulders. Dwight noticed Kenneth’s expression then, and saw he looked almost dazed. Kenneth shivered as though he was naked in Alaska, and his stream began to slow. Dwight hoped that meant he was nearly done; Ordinarily, when Kenneth’s body shook like that as he peed, it was because he was close to being finished. Good. Bryce wasn’t going to catch him midstr—
“WHAT THE FUCK!?” Bryce yelled from the doorway.
Kenneth jumped, and his jelly-like limbs began to tighten back into their usual, tensed state. His stream ceased immediately, and a burning feeling assailed him; It felt like getting a burning hot poker shoved up his most intimate place, and he found he could not continue peeing.
“I—I—“ Kenneth stammered as he hurriedly zipped up. “I told you I had to take care of something,” he said. “You wouldn’t let me. I was out of options.”
“Great,” Bryce huffed. “Now, I have to smell your piss while I supervise you!”
“Um, well,” Dwight said. “Kenneth was super hydrated, so it doesn’t smell…that…strong…” he trailed off, getting quieter and quieter as he noticed Kenneth going red in face and shooting him a look that could kill.
“Get the fuck back to work,” Bryce commanded. “And tomorrow you’re cleaning that wall.”
Kenneth hadn’t been able to finish, he could still feel a bit of tingling in his midsection, and having been stopped midstream his muscles were really stinging; But, he no longer felt the threatening tremble that told him he was seconds away from peeing his uniform, so got back to work. He could hold what little still remained inside him until later. What he couldn’t hold back until later, though, was the embarrassment. He was disgusted with himself for doing something so totally desperate and dirty, and had to remind himself several times that it was either pissing on the wall or flooding his pants.
A couple hours later, Bryce accepted the tallies they’d taken on the ammunition and they were dismissed. Kenneth walked rather stiff-legged back to the barrack; His bladder had been very unhappy about its release being interrupted and had begun to once again issue him several urgent pangs. He was so relieved to lock himself in the private restroom and allow the remainder of his urine to slowly drain away. “Ahhh…” he breathed as he zipped himself back up afterwards. He exited and looked at the remaining cans of soda under his bed. It would probably do him well not to feed his addiction so generously any more.
“Dwight?” Kenneth asked. “Um… Don’t ever let me drink so many of those sodas again, okay? Even if I beg or threaten you, you have to promise you won’t let me do that to myself again.”
“Heh, okay Kenneth,” Dwight said. “I won’t.”
Kenneth absolutely would do that to himself again many, many times in the future. He just loved that soda. |
Okay, so I have a huge backlog of fiction updates to post to this site, but since I don't want to put up a ton all at once I'll just do a couple each day. (Like, one chapter for each story). You can view my AO3 account if you want to see more right away. (Link to that on my profile.)
***
Kenneth had not pissed in seventeen hours.
He wished he was dead.
He thought that, perhaps, he actually was dead and this was his punishment in Hell.
To spend eternity holding a bladder that refused to empty no matter what he did to try and force it to.
And, oh, how he’d tried to force it to.
There was no reason this should have been happening. This was supposed to be a good weekend, a couple days of leisure just strolling through town. No responsibilities to attend to, no Bryce bothering him, nothing to cause him agony. He was supposed to have two nice days of just him and Dwight enjoying themselves!
But, they were staying in an inn. And, the walls of that building were very, very thin. Kenneth could hear people in all of the other rooms wherever he went, including the restroom. And, no matter what he did, his bladder would not ease and allow him to pee when he could hear such a racket! Kenneth had peed at the barrack before leaving Friday evening, hadn’t let out anything since then, and now it was mid-afternoon on Saturday. And, he’d had a lot of water and soda to drink in that time; Because he’d thought he’d be able to pee with no trouble!
But, then he’d locked himself in his restroom, unzipped, realized how loud everyone was being, and that was it! He tried smooshing his bladder as hard as he could stand it, and then a little harder than that; He pressed against his swollen middle so forcefully he practically saw stars! But still, not even a drop. He tried to hold his breath, and did so until he became so lightheaded he nearly passed out. But still, not even a drop. He gave up then, no methods ever worked for him, and he’d tried plenty.
He’d spoken to a doctor about his issue several times in the past, which was an absolutely humiliating thing to have to do. The doctor had given him many methods to test; One of which was the breath-holding thing that had failed him over and over and over again. Another suggestion was to try doing simple Math equations in his head. Allegedly, this was supposed to distract his brain enough that his pee would start flowing.
Kenneth did give that a shot a few times, and it had backfired tremendously; He never did manage to pee by solving multiplication problems in his mind, oh no. No, instead, he’d tried to do it so many blasted times that now whenever he had to do Math in his day-to-day life, he became overcome with an urge to pee. He could seriously have a perfectly comfortable, empty feeling bladder, then be asked what eight times seven was and as he thought about it, he would suddenly feel like his bladder was gonna rupture.
Kenneth had no clue who “Pavlov” was, but he knew that if he ever met the guy, he’d sock him in the face as hard as he could.
Still, he had tried the multiplication thing a few times during the last seventeen Hellish hours. Unsurprisingly, it hadn’t helped.
He and Dwight were not sharing a room on this trip, a fact which Kenneth was none too happy about. It had been difficult enough trying to fall asleep last night while his bladder thrashed, he wished he could have at least had the comforting sounds of Dwight’s snores to lull him into a state of relaxation.
He knew he should probably tell Dwight that he couldn’t pee, and that he needed help. But, he was ashamed to. It was one thing to ask for help when they were outside somewhere, or when he was attempting to use a urinal; Situations where someone really could walk in and see him gushing away, and it made sense he was feeling shy. But, it was another thing entirely to admit he couldn’t make himself use a private toilet that had a lock and a door and everything just because he could kind of hear the murmur of voices from elsewhere in the building.
Which was why, when they went out to walk around town, Kenneth tried not to show any signs of need whatsoever. He even had to fight down the urge to engage in his nervous tick of knuckle-chewing, since he knew Dwight would recognize it and know what it meant. He didn’t intend to make himself hold it until Monday of course. Just… He was sure Dwight thought he'd peed right before leaving the inn, so he only had to wait until they’d been out long enough that it was reasonable he’d need to go again. Then, he could ask for help.
Simple.
But, there were still so many variables to consider. If there was nowhere suitable in town that Kenneth could relieve himself, Dwight would probably just bring him back to the inn to go… And he’d be back at square one of not being able to pee in that building, and being totally unwilling to admit to it.
Not to mention, after over seventeen hours without a pee, hiding his urge until he felt ‘safe’ enough to request assistance wasn’t easy. As they walked, Kenneth couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands. They kept creeping towards his crotch, and he’d have to stop them from pressing down. After which, they would immediately raise up to his mouth and he’d bite his lip to keep from chewing on them. He decided on just stuffing them into his pocket, where hopefully he could give himself a few, discreet squeezes. But, just as he was about to give that a shot, the weirdest thing happened.
Dwight reached over and took hold of one of Kenneth’s hands. Then, gave it a squeeze. He didn’t say anything when he did this, he didn’t even look at Kenneth, just continued walking, as though nothing out of the ordinary was taking place.
Kenneth’s heart pounded so loudly in his ears as he squeezed Dwight’s hand back… God, it felt so nice to squeeze SOMETHING as his bladder continued throbbing and pulsating. Kenneth’s eyes flicked around the area. A few people were nearby… “Dwight,” he whispered harshly. “What are you doing? Someone could see. They’d think—“
“Hey, brother,” Dwight said. “Remember when OUR parents tried to convince us that chocolate milk came from brown cows?”
Kenneth was confused. He and Dwight were not related, and Kenneth’s Father would have never tried to amuse him with silly myths. “But, Dwight, we’re not brothe—“
“And remember when OUR parents grounded us for throwing a rock through someone’s window, when really it was the neighbor kid? OUR Dad said to me ‘Dwight, you’re the older BROTHER, you need to look after Kenneth since he’s younger and make sure he stays out of trouble.’”
Kenneth blinked, fighting back a wicked pang of need from his midsection. He tried to understand what Dwight was saying, but his brain was so filled with the mantra of ‘PEE NOW!’ that it took him a few seconds to work it out; Dwight just wanted everyone around them to think they were holding hands because they were brothers. Kenneth supposed that they did look similar enough to pass for relatives, they were both short and fair-skinned, and had pointed noses.
“O-Oh, yeah,” Kenneth said. “You are a great older brother.” He was a little annoyed Dwight had claimed to be the older one, when Kenneth was older by three months. And, he still didn’t understand why Dwight wanted to hold his hand so much, apparently enough to concoct a whole story to dissuade on-lookers from speculating about them. But, Kenneth liked the fact Dwight was holding his hand, not just because squeezing something was helping quell the fury from his bladder a little bit, but because Dwight’s hand was so warm. It had always been warm, and soft. It was a bit more calloused now, but it still had that soft, tender quality to it under the surface.
This did mean that Kenneth had to walk at the same pace Dwight was, though. And, that wasn’t easy to do with a full bladder. Every step sent a harsh tremor through his feet and up the lines of his legs to clobber the walls of the bloated organ. He squeezed his thighs, and tucked his other hand into his pocket, straining to reach his cock. When he was able to give it a meager squeeze, the teensiest bit of the pressure faded away.
Had it been long enough yet, Kenneth wondered. At most, it had been an hour since they’d left the inn. Was it reasonable to think he’d need a pee break so soon? Maybe… Maybe he could say he just ‘forgot’ to go before they left, rather than admit that he’d been unable to. Yeah, that could work. “D—Dwight, I—“
Before Kenneth could get the words out, Dwight was tugging him off. “Oh, let’s try this cafe,” he said. Kenneth hadn’t expected to suddenly be pulled in the opposite direction, and as he scrambled to catch his footing, his boots harshly thwacked the pavement and the impact coaxed a few spurts of liquid into his boxers.
When he bore down on his holding muscles, fighting to plug the leak as though his bladder were a boat about to sink in the middle of the ocean, he tried to be hopeful. The cafe would have a restroom. Maybe even one he could use! Maybe, it would be nice and quiet, and his bladder would decide not to clam up and get stage-fright as though it were an aspiring politician being told to deliver a rousing speech to thousands of potential voters. Perhaps instead, it would remember that it was just an organ, and that its purpose was to contain urine and, most importantly, EXPEL it once it had been brought to an appropriate place.
Kenneth was not so lucky though. The cafe was crowded. So crowded that, when he spotted the restroom, there was a massive line for it. His heart sank, and from the surplus of throbs that began to radiate in waves within his midsection, Kenneth was pretty sure his heart sank until it was perched on top of his bladder and had begun to violently kick it. There was only one thing that could make Kenneth’s shy bladder worse than it was to begin with, and that was knowing someone was waiting on him to finish.
It wasn’t that he was worried about drawing out another person’s desperation— He’d always be so caught up in his own that he couldn’t spare a thought for someone else’s. But, instead, the knowledge that someone was so close, waiting on him, growing impatient… It was all too much like what his Father had done. All the screaming insults of “Hurry it up, you little brat! You’re wasting my time with this bullshit!” would return to flood Kenneth’s mind, and he would become convinced that that was exactly what the person waiting on him was thinking, too.
His mind would concoct detailed, horrible fantasies about what the other person was thinking of him. “What is taking that guy so long? He’s been standing there for twenty minutes! I don’t even think I hear a stream! He must have a serious problem, how dumb does a person have to be to not know how to take a piss? What a freak!”
He knew that, realistically, very few people would be thinking that way. But, knowing that didn’t stop his brain from supplying him with more and more potential insults and comments that could be hurled his way if he didn’t hurry up and pee. Which, in turn, would make it even more impossible to let anything flow.
It was worse when someone knocked on the door. If someone knocked on the door, that was just… It. He would zip up immediately, splash some water on his hands, and shamefully slink out of the room.
So, upon seeing the line for the toilet, and hearing the crowd that had already congregated in the cafe, Kenneth knew that he would not be peeing any time soon.
But, God… He just… Had to! He had to so much! It felt like a watermelon was smooshing against all of his other organs. The skin over his bladder was pulled taut, like a rubber band stretched to the limit. Even with his uniform on, he could sort of see the bulge that had formed there, and worried someone else could see it, too. Kenneth was so thin, and the bump didn’t look like it belonged at all.
If someone noticed, would they know it was his bladder? Would they wonder why in the world he was holding so much? Or, would they think he had some kind of horrible tumor?
Dwight released Kenneth’s hand, and without thinking, Kenneth immediately tucked it between his legs. Ohhhh, relief…. Just finally holding himself felt like a reward he’d waited years to earn. But, after a second, the pressure returned, and his other hand tore itself out of his pocket to join the battle.
Dwight had found a table, and when he turned around to look for Kenneth, Kenneth quickly removed his hands and stuck them behind his back, like a kid caught taking candy they weren’t allowed to have. Dwight waved him over, and Kenneth shuffled his way through the crowd. He’d hoped sitting down would alleviate some of the pressure, but it didn’t. It just made it worse. His bladder felt like it was being run through a taffy puller, his belt squishing it and the change in position stretching its walls. A single drop flew from his tip, and he was grateful for the cover of the table because now he could hold himself again.
“You look a little pale,” Dwight said. “We were walking for a while. Let me get you something to drink.”
More liquid was the last thing Kenneth wanted. “N—No, I’m fine!” he said. His teeth were chattering, grinding against each other. He wanted to chew his hands; God, he wanted to bite something!
Dwight gave him an odd look. “You’re sweating,” he said. “You need water. Hold on.” He stood from his seat and left.
Kenneth allowed his head to fall against the table, he shut his eyes tight, both hands kneading his crotch as his legs twisted around beneath him. He didn’t want water. He couldn’t fit any more water. There was no room left. None at all. It already felt like he should have had liquid coming out of his ears and nostrils, where the Hell was he supposed to put more of it?
Dwight returned a few minutes later with two glasses of water. He looked at Kenneth and knew he’d gotten him a drink just in time. Kenneth got dehydrated pretty fast, and the effects it had seemed to be extreme. Poor thing was so out of sorts he couldn’t lift his head up! “Here you go,” Dwight said, placing the glass in front of his friend. “Drink up, you’ll feel better.”
Kenneth was positive if he allowed even one drop of that water down his throat, he would feel so far from ‘better’ that he wouldn’t even be in the same zip-code. “Nn—No,” he said again.
“You have to,” Dwight said, unsure why Kenneth was acting like this. “I know, it’s not that soda you like so much. But, they don’t have that here, I checked. And, you’re obviously dehydrated, so just have the water. Maybe we can find you some soda somewhere else.”
Kenneth cringed. He didn’t want to make Dwight worry, so he forced himself to sit up a little more, painfully dragged one hand away from his dick, and grabbed the water. When he brought it to his lips, he hesitated, finding it difficult to force his mouth to open. His bladder spasmed violently, like it was screaming at him ‘No! Please! I can’t! No more!’
He managed to part his lips, and began to take in the water. He was surprised by how refreshing it felt pouring over his tongue and down his throat. He hadn’t thought it possible he could actually be dehydrated when so much water already had to come out, but the way his senses jumped to the water in his mouth, he now realized how much he needed it.
But, his middle was convulsing already, protesting the addition of new liquid when he was still so far from being able to deal with the old. Once the glass was empty, Dwight said “See? Told you. Feel better?”
Kenneth didn’t feel better; His throat was less dry, but that was about it. His bladder was still a swollen, hard rock that commanded all of his attention. He nodded anyway, though.
“You’re quiet,” Dwight noted. “Oh, is it the crowd?”
Kenneth nodded again. Whatever. It was as good an explanation as any.
“That’s okay, we can go somewhere else. Anywhere you wanted to go?”
‘Yes,’ Kenneth thought. ‘Somewhere quiet with a private toilet!’ But, instead he said; “N—No, I’m not familiar enough with the area. You pick.”
It was so unlike Kenneth to not try and take command of everything they did… “Are you feeling okay?”
“N—Never better!”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure I’m sure! Nothing is wrong, everything is fine. I…” His mouth snapped shut, his teeth ground together so hard he was probably gonna wear them down to nubs. His feet continued sliding around the floor, his legs bouncing, his hands clutching. It was getting worse than bad now; Sometimes, when Kenneth had to pee this catastrophically urgently, the pain would not confine itself to his bladder. It would begin to move upwards. It would begin to reverberate in horrific waves through his lower back, the focal point being just beneath his ribcage. That was what was happening now. “Nnnnnnhhh!!!” he exclaimed through his clenched teeth.
“Kenneth, what’s—“
“I haven’t peed in almost nineteen hours!” Kenneth announced, way, way too loudly. People at other tables were staring, and he felt his face practically catch fire as embarrassment doused him like a bucket of cold water.
Dwight stared for a moment. He had to…go? But, he hadn’t been chewing on his hands? And… “Nineteen hours!?”
Kenneth gave a miserable nod.
“But… No, that can’t be right.”
“I’m living it.”
“You would be in agony!”
“What do you THINK I’m feeling right now!?”
Dwight sighed, realizing that yeah, that had been a dumb thing to say. Kenneth looked like he was well passed the point of agony. “Why!?”
“Can’t go at the inn,” Kenneth admitted at last, so overcome by need that his pride basically fell off a five hundred foot tall cliff and died on impact. “Too noisy there.”
“Oh my God— Why didn’t you— I would have helped!”
“I was embarrassed,” Kenneth said. “I thought I could find somewhere to go while we were out, but it’s crowded and noisy here, too!”
“Ahh, oh jeez, Kenneth!” Dwight was beginning to panic. Nineteen hours without a pee?! Should… Should Dwight take him to a hospital?! “Let’s… Let’s get you… Somewhere!” he said finally. His own anxiety was causing him to shake, and he gripped Kenneth’s arm and tugged him up a little too quickly.
“Ahhhh!” Kenneth cried out, feeling his bladder squeeze itself with such force that he was sure a leak was coming, but it didn’t. Rather than feeling relieved that he hadn’t disgraced himself, he felt a little frightened. He couldn’t even leak? He was seriously locked up now…
“Come on,” Dwight said through his fear. “I’ll… I’ll get you somewhere, I promise. I’ll make it better!”
Once outside the cafe, Dwight scanned the surrounding area. He still thought that maybe Kenneth needed medical attention, but he didn’t see anywhere that would provide him with that. There were some shops, all of which were crowded, and which he knew would bring Kenneth no relief. “Let’s— Go back to the inn!” Dwight decided. At least there, he knew, the toilet would be private. If the noise was too much, Dwight could help calm him.
Or, at least he hoped he could.
The walk back was agony for poor Kenneth, and tears began to pour down his cheeks. The crying disturbed Dwight. Kenneth only cried if the pain he was under was extreme enough that it would be enough to knock any other person off their feet. Finally at the inn, Dwight realized they were now faced with the task of climbing the staircase that led to the rooms. He again glanced at his miserably desperate friend. Dwight realized Kenneth had ceased squirming, he was instead just doubled up on himself, hands buried between his legs, not moving.
Dwight thought that maybe Kenneth was wetting himself, and that was why he’d stopped squirming, but his clothing was not darkening, and there was no sound of trickling liquid. All of Kenneth’s urine was evidently still inside of him.
Kenneth had stopped moving because the pain he was under was so extreme that even the smallest twitch of any of his muscles would make it intensify. His holding muscles felt like they'd been covered in paper-cuts before being smeared with lemon juice. His urethra was shuddering, and it felt as though the sharp tip of a knife was repeatedly poking into it. His eyes widened as he looked at the staircase, remembering that they separated him from the potential of relief. “I… I can’t…” he whimpered.
Dwight wasn’t about to force him. “Okay… Um… Just let it out here,” he said.
“What?” Kenneth cried. Kenneth had always had a shrill voice, but not even Dwight had ever heard it reach that high of an octave before.
“Just do it here, alright?” Dwight said. “The stairs would be too much at this point. Just… Go, and then run right up to the room. I’ll find an employee afterwards, I won’t tell them what happened. Just go, no one else is around to see it. It’s just me.”
Kenneth squeezed his eyes shut, and he tried to do as Dwight said. He tried to unclench his bladder and allow its contents to flood down his legs and create a massive puddle at his feet. He tried telling his body it was okay. He tried to pee.
But, nothing would come out.
He was desperate well past the point of severe physical strain, yet he couldn’t even wet himself. He couldn’t even manage a little, leaky dribble. The pain in his back intensified until it felt like he’d been trampled by a herd of rampaging buffalo. The fear he felt overpowered all other feelings; He could scarcely even feel the agony past the terror. Was it possible for someone to actually burst their bladder? What happened to someone if they literally couldn’t pee ever again? Was his life now going to be nothing but the constant torment of ever increasing desperation that he could never relieve even the slightest bit?
“I can’t!” Kenneth exclaimed. “I can’t do it! It won’t— It won’t come out! Dwight, please?” He wasn’t sure what exactly he was begging Dwight for, just… Dwight fixed things for him! Dwight made him feel better! He needed Dwight to fix THIS. “Please, Dwight! Please!?”
Dwight wasn’t too sure what Kenneth was asking for either. But, obviously being here was upsetting him. “Okay, want to go up to the rooms?”
Kenneth nodded, and Dwight took him by the arm and tried to gingerly lead him up the stairs. “It’s okay if you can’t make it up the stairs. It’s okay. Just keep trying to make it come out, alright?”
As they maneuvered up the stairs, Kenneth tried to force his bladder to release itself into his clothes. He was in so much pain that he just didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care if he had an accident. He just cared about getting all this piss to go somewhere that was outside of his body. But, he couldn’t. Dwight was making him move too fast! But, really, any speed would have been too fast for Kenneth’s bloated, water-logged body.
The pain Kenneth felt every time he set his foot down on a new step was the sort of thing that could drive a man to insanity. Kenneth had felt extreme physical pain before, he knew pain like he knew the back of his own hand, but he’d never felt anything even close to this. He genuinely believed that he was going to explode, that something inside of his body was going to rip him apart limb from limb.
Once they’d reached the landing, Dwight tugged Kenneth into his room. He reached his other hand downwards, unclasping Kenneth’s belt, undoing his buttons and tugging down his zip for him as he helped his poor friend hobble into the restroom. “Y—You’re here,” Dwight said. “This better?”
Kenneth trembled as he pulled himself free and aimed. “Nnnh, I can’t! It’s loud!”
Dwight tried to catch his breath for a moment, and then he did notice it; The faint sound of people talking in other rooms. Dwight could barely hear it, but apparently it was still enough to lock Kenneth’s bladder up. “You can do i—“
“I CAN’T!” Kenneth exclaimed, frustration and rage in his tone. “I can’t do it! Don’t you think if I could, I would have by now!? But, I can’t! I can’t, and it hurts! It hurts so bad!” His rant was interrupted by a heaving, choked sobbing sound. “Please… I can’t take it…”
Dwight came closer. He rubbed Kenneth’s back as he repeated every soothing word he could think of. “I’m here… I’m here… I’ve got you… You’re okay…”
“I’m not,” Kenneth whimpered, pushing down on his pelvic muscles as hard as he could, not a single drop managing to snake down through his urethra.
“You are, I’ve got you…” Dwight said. “You’ll be okay. I’ve got you.” He began kneading Kenneth’s shoulders, trying to get as deep into his tensed, rigid muscles as he could manage. “I’ve got you, you’re okay. You’re safe. Deep breaths now.”
Dwight ran him through their usual breathing exercise for a couple minutes, but still Kenneth’s bladder remained fuller than should have been physically possible. Dwight tried not to let the panic he was feeling enter his own voice. “Kenneth,” he said. “You can do this, I know you can.”
“I can’t…”
“You can,” Dwight repeated. “You’re not the kind of person that gives up, Kenneth. You’re the kind that keeps fighting, even when it seems impossible. Ever since you were little, you never gave up; You always kept moving forward, you always kept trying, you always survived.” He pressed his hands as deep into Kenneth’s shoulders as he could.
A few of the seven billion knots of tension in Kenneth’s body began to loosen, his panic began to fade.
“You’re a fighter, you’re not a quitter. You’re so much stronger than everyone says you are. That’s why I lo—“
HSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!
“OH! GOD!” Kenneth cried out in ecstatic euphoria as a deluge of urine erupted from his overburdened bladder. His body instantly felt like it were made of gelatin that had been left out in the sun for fifty hours. If Dwight weren’t already holding onto him so tightly, he would have collapsed. He didn’t know if he even would have noticed he’d fallen over if he had. All he could comprehend was intense, mind-breaking relief. All he could do was moan and allow shivers to work their way up and down his spine. “Ohhhhhh…. Yesssssssss… That’s the stuff… Mmmm…”
Holding onto Kenneth’s shuddering body while he made such… intense noises was doing something to Dwight. Something that was beginning to have a very physical effect. ‘No, no!’ Dwight thought. ‘Not now!’ He begged his body to stop sending an unnecessary amount of blood downwards. ‘He’s right up against… He’ll feel it! Not now!’
If Kenneth noticed, or knew what it was, he didn’t react. Hopefully he was too caught up in what he was doing to pay attention to anything else that was happening around him. Kenneth just kept moaning away, as what surely must have been gallons of liquid intensely sprayed through his tip. He was inhaling and exhaling as if he was trying to catch his breath after a three mile run. His stream dwindled down to a trickle, only to ramp back up to its forceful, gushing state a couple seconds later. When he started dribbling again and felt pretty empty, he reached for his zipper, only to be surprised by another huge pulse of liquid. Then another. And another.
Then, finally, he was drained. “Ahhhhhhhh!” He sighed loudly.
Now that Dwight was reasonably certain Kenneth could keep himself upright on his own, he let go of his friend and stepped back, trying to cover his crotch with his hands. Kenneth didn’t notice, just headed for the sink to wash his hands off and splash a little water onto his face. “That’s better…” he murmured, his mind and body were still trying to readjust to how it felt to not have a medieval torture device shoved inside his abdomen.
“Okay now?” Dwight asked, his face turning red as he took in his friend’s disheveled appearance. Kenneth’s face was pink, his hair mussed, his eyes glazed over… It looked like he’d just gotten through doing something other than taking a leak… “All better?”
“So much better…” Kenneth confirmed. “I… I just… Thank you. You have no idea how badly I needed that.”
Having seen the size of the tsunami Kenneth had just unleashed, Dwight thought he did have a pretty decent idea… Though, he could not for the life of him imagine what it would feel like to have that much urine locked up inside his body. “You’re welco—“
Before Dwight could finish, Kenneth’s lips were on his.
This was not the first time Kenneth had kissed him; Pretty far from it. The first time they’d kissed had been immediately after the death of Kenneth’s Father. Kenneth’s emotions had been running so high then; Scared that it didn’t look enough like a real suicide, scared that what had really happened would be obvious, and that no one would understand that he’d been left with no choice, that it was either Father’s life or his own. But, beyond the fear, there was also elation; a dizzying sense of freedom that the monster whom had terrorized him his entire life was finally gone and would never hurt him again.
Kenneth had been so totally overcome with so many conflicting feelings, pinging through his body, obviously he had to get them out somehow; And, he’d just drawn Dwight to him and kissed his lips hard, begging his friend to never leave him even after what he’d been forced to do. Dwight had just melted then; The idea that his friend had taken the life of another had been frightening at first, even knowing that he’d only done it to defend himself… But, when Kenneth had kissed him, brought him so close that he could hear his heartbeat… He knew Kenneth was still the same person. Just, he’d been forced to do a terrible thing.
They’d kissed a few times since then, too. When one of them was frightened, or incredibly upset, the other would sometimes just give him a quick kiss on the cheek. They had done more than kissing, too; Once when they’d been extremely stressed out, they’d gotten into bed together. It had only happened once, and neither of them ever spoke of it. It was as if it had never happened.
Dwight was sure lots of friends had done things like that before, but just like he and Kenneth, they never, ever talked about it.
Just… Dwight couldn’t lie to himself; He wanted that to happen again. Kenneth taking command of him, dominating him and sending rushes of… of just pure ‘feeling’ through his body in ways he’d never before experienced. He wanted that experience again, but for now he was content with just having Kenneth kiss him, like now.
All his memories of the previous times Kenneth had deigned to kiss him told Dwight that ‘kissing’ was reserved for times when Kenneth was completely overwhelmed by a whole spectrum of emotions. This was a little different from the other times Kenneth had wanted to kiss him; Seeking reassurance that Dwight still loved him after he’d committed a murder, wanting to be cheered up after being hurt, or just wanting comfort when super scared were all a bit… Different than being so grateful that Dwight helped him take a piss that he could literally kiss him for it.
Still, Dwight kissed back, he wasn’t going to waste this moment, as weird as it may have been. Kenneth’s tongue forcing its way past his teeth did nothing to help Dwight with his below-the-belt issue, which he was positive Kenneth MUST have been able to feel with as close together as they were. But, he didn’t care, he wanted this moment to last as long as possible, and he wanted to let himself feel everything it made him feel.
When Kenneth paused for breath, exhaling another “Thank you,” Dwight immediately drew their lips back together a second later. When they finally parted and looked at each other, neither knew what to say. They never knew what to say after these sorts of things happened. “Uh~Um…” Dwight said finally. “You’re… You’re very welcome.”
Edited February 5, 2022 by segaface
(see edit history) |
“No,” Bryce insisted. "You may go when we arrive at our destination.”
Dwight paced in place as he stood on the train platform, desperately eyeing the sign designating a mens’ room just a few short paces away. “But, Bryce,” he complained. “You said that this will be a five hour ride! And, I already really, really need to—“
“No,” Bryce barked. “Contain yourself. Be an adult. I will not allow you to make us late!”
Kenneth rolled up the sleeve of his coat. Bryce hadn’t thought it was that cold, but Kenneth had still shown up with a heavy coat over his uniform. Kenneth must have had a very low tolerance for cold, and Bryce thought it may have been funny to take his jacket from him somehow so he’d have to freeze.
Kenneth eyed his watch. “Bryce,” he stated. “Stop being a moron. We have fifteen minutes until the train is supposed to get here. That’s plenty of time for Dwight to pee.”
“Keep pushing, Kenneth,” Bryce glowered. “Keep calling me a moron and see what happens.”
“Moron,” Kenneth repeated. “Moron, moron, moron!”
“I swear to—“ Bryce turned around, noticing that Dwight was gone. His annoyance grew; The little twerp had just wound him up so much that he’d been distracted enough to let one of his subordinates slip away and disobey his orders.
When Dwight returned, his face was back to its usual color, no longer tinted with a pink hue. He was able to stand still again as well.
Bryce huffed, “Feel better?” he asked in a mocking tone.
“Yes,” Dwight nodded. “Lots better. No way I could have held that the whole ride.” He lowered his voice and stepped closer to Kenneth. “Do you have to go, too?”
“N—No, I remembered to… handle that… before we came here,” Kenneth said quietly.
Bryce rolled his eyes up to stare at the clouds. Why did he have to get stuck with these two? They were such children. They were a disgrace-- One of them couldn’t even PISS, unless someone did that bizarre shoulder-rubbing ritual thing for him. They were— Bryce noticed a slight tingling in his lower abdomen, and realized he’d neglected to relieve himself before departing for the station. He glanced furtively to the mens’ room, then immediately looked away. He couldn’t go for a piss after he’d just made such a big deal out of Dwight doing the same thing. He didn’t even have to go that much, it could wait until they’d reached their destination.
When the train arrived and Bryce took his seat, he grimaced slightly as his belt compressed his bladder ever so softly. Perhaps, he needed to go a bit worse than he’d initially thought. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t a childish idiot like his subordinates were. His bladder would stretch to contain however much liquid it needed to, and would accept the fact that it would not be getting emptied until Bryce decided it was convenient to do so.
This could be a nice endurance challenge for Bryce as well, to prove to himself how much he could take. His confidence in his strength and pain tolerance had been off balance ever since he’d somehow managed to lose to Kenneth in a pee-holding contest. And, truth be told, witnessing so much piss pulse out of Kenneth’s body the night they’d been handcuffed together had made Bryce feel… Weirdly jealous?
He never thought there would come a day that he’d envy another man for his bladder capacity, but he just did. Bryce had been unable to stop thinking about how much fluid Kenneth could carry around inside himself. How could someone that was so tiny have enough room in their body for so much pee? He’d cast out a few of his more ridiculous theories, such as thinking Kenneth had gotten an operation to install a second bladder, or that he’d been granted such phenomenal capacity by a genie.
But then he realized that, in spite of how Kenneth’s bladder was obviously obscenely huge, Kenneth still got desperate to relieve it all of the time. Part of that was because Kenneth got thirsty pretty fast and tended to drink a lot, but most of it was because he just didn’t have that many opportunities for relief thanks to him practically being the poster child for shy bladder syndrome. Then, Bryce concluded that the reason Kenneth could withstand holding back stunning quantities of urine was merely because he’d been forced to practice at it every single day of his life.
It made sense; One’s holding muscles were surely like any other muscle, they got stronger the more you worked them out. And, there were a lot of days where Kenneth evidently went once in the morning before leaving his barrack, filled and filled throughout the day, and then finally had his second pee late at night after being dismissed. Kenneth’s holding muscles got worked out as much as an Olympic marathon runner’s legs.
After figuring that out, Bryce had intended to ‘exercise’ his bladder a bit in the hopes of someday being able to best Kenneth, but there just never seemed to be a convenient time to try it. Now, he thought, he had the perfect opportunity. He’d hold it through this entire ride— Hell, maybe even a bit longer than that— and his bladder would start to get stronger as a result.
A slight pang from his midsection seemed to request that he stop thinking so much about peeing when he was so far from being able to do so. He instead looked out the window at the passing scenery, feeling the pressure inside his body build.
For the first hour, Bryce was okay. He wasn’t comfortable, but he wasn’t desperate, either. His urge to pee was more of an annoyance than a solid ‘need’. Nothing more than a constant thrumming tingle just below his belt that was barely intense enough to distract him from the book he’d begun to read. He’d become acutely aware of the rattling of the train beneath him, each little shake would make him flex his thighs ever so slightly as an irritating throb coursed down his length. But, he was fine. He was okay.
Kenneth and Dwight were occupied by talking to one another, they hadn’t seemed to have picked up on how tense Bryce’s legs had gotten. They certainly hadn’t noticed the way his teeth would sink into his bottom lip every so often. That was one thing Bryce had to ensure; That no matter how full he got before their arrival, he could not allow either of those morons to pick up on it.
He spent the next hour that way, occasionally squeezing his thighs together, trying to distract himself by reading, and reminding himself that he could easily hold this; That his bladder was getting stronger. He enjoyed pain, up until a point, it was fun to see how much his body could withstand, this was just more of that. And, while the pain-games he sometimes liked to play were always based on external pain (being whipped, being cut, getting stomped on) and this was a very internal pain, it was the same idea more or less.
And, he told himself, this wasn’t pain. Not yet. He was merely a little uncomfortable, his bladder was nowhere close to painful.
But then, Bryce picked up on what Kenneth and Dwight were talking about. Namely, Kenneth was babbling about the tropics. And, more specifically, how nice the ocean sounded when one was walking along a beach. “It’s so relaxing,” Kenneth said. “As soon as I can go to the coasts, I will never leave. We can live there together, we can live in a beach house, and we’ll be able to hear the ocean as we go to sleep. It will be so soothing to hear the water lapping at the sand all night, and when it rains it will sound even better; The rain striking into the thrashing waves and trickling on the roof all night. It will be so soothing!”
Bryce’s bladder seized, the constant trembling transformed into mighty throbs; Kenneth’s painfully evocative descriptions were now the only thing on Bryce’s mind. He could hear the gushing, roaring waves Kenneth babbled about, he could see the liquid sloshing up onto the sand. Aside from these tortuous, watery visions, the only other thing Bryce could think of was; ‘Is he doing this on purpose? Can he… tell?’
Bryce couldn’t figure out how Kenneth could have possibly figured out that he needed to go. He’d been very steadfast in keeping himself as still as humanly possible. Besides, he reminded himself, Kenneth always talked about tropical things like beaches and oceans; He was obsessed with them. He was so obsessed with palm trees, sand and sun that sometimes Bryce thought it was some kind of bizarre sexual fetish of his. He always talked about this sort of thing, he always fantasized about places like that when he was bored. Just because he was doing it again now, that didn’t mean he was able to tell Bryce was starting to really need a pee-break.
Even if Kenneth wasn’t intending to irritate Bryce at the moment, he definitely still was; Every word that came out of his mouth, every elucidation of just how ‘relaxing’ the noise an ocean made was, every bit of commentary on exactly what those noises were like… All of it made Bryce feel as though a gorilla was squeezing his bladder in a vice-grip.
Suddenly, it was too much; “Paulson,” he barked. “No one cares about your weird beach fetish. Shut up.”
Dwight raised a hand slightly; “I care.”
“You don’t count,” Bryce informed.
“Oh…” Dwight looked down sadly.
“And it’s not a fetish,” Kenneth said, feeling himself blush.
“Oh, sure. I swear, I wouldn’t be shocked if I caught you jacking off to photos of palm trees,” Bryce said, bouncing a knee.
“That’s vile,” Kenneth said. “Why can’t Dwight and I talk? Just ignore us.”
“You are…” Bryce struggled to come up with a way to finish his statement. Something other than ‘You are making me have to pee really badly!’ “You are… Distracting me from my book,” he said. “Be quiet.”
“Fine,” Kenneth huffed out. “The first stop is soon, anyway. Maybe you’ll be less of a jerk after you get some fresh air.”
Bryce looked back up then. “There’s a stop?” he asked, trying to keep the elation he felt from entering his tone. That was good.. He was really starting to second-guess this whole self-imposed challenge. If he wanted to give his holding muscles a work-out, it was probably best to do it somewhere that he could easily relieve himself once he’d decided it was time to stop.
“Yes,” Kenneth said. “This train stops about halfway between where we left and where we’re going.”
Oh. Wow. Yes. If they weren’t even at the halfway mark yet, then the signals from Bryce’s bladder were telling him there was NO way he could make it through the entire ride. Bryce just nodded to Kenneth, pretended to go back to his book, and hoped that the stop came soon.
Bryce was lucky; The stop occurred only a small handful of minutes later. He eagerly shot to his feet and tried not to cringe as a painful twinge shot through his middle. ‘Soon,’ he told himself. ‘Just a couple more minutes, and you’ll be peeing.’ His bladder throbbed even stronger then, as if to say ‘Not soon enough!’
Dwight and Kenneth stood as well and followed Bryce off the train and onto the platform. Kenneth stretched out, mentioning how uncomfortable it was to sit in one place for so long. Dwight told Bryce he needed another pee-break and started in that direction. Kenneth looked down at his feet. “Um… I would like to… Take care of something as well,” he said, following his friend.
Bryce didn’t really want to follow them, and allow them to find out how much he needed to go, but he didn’t have a choice. If he didn’t empty himself before getting back on the train, he would regret it deeply. Perhaps, he could do something to annoy Kenneth while they were in there. Like, insist on going directly next to him, and then talking to him the entire time so he wouldn’t be able to go. Maybe, he could keep that up for so long that Kenneth would be unable to urinate before they had to head back to the train.
But, when the three reached the door to the restroom, Bryce realized that none of that would be happening. The mens' room was currently out of order. Kenneth whispered something to Dwight, his face so red it looked like he was sunburned.
“I—It’s alright, Kenneth,” Dwight said. “You won’t have to hold it the whole ride. There’s a nice wooded area right over there, I’ll keep watch for you and everything.”
As the two quickly made for the small, forested space to the side of the platform, Bryce swayed back and forth in indecision. If he went behind a tree as well, that would be admitting that he didn’t think he could wait through the rest of the journey; That would mean showing Kenneth and Dwight that he was bursting for a pee. Absolutely not. He would not piss on a tree and let those twerps think he was no more capable of holding his bladder than they were. Because, he was way more capable. He knew he was. He just needed to stop thinking about it; Mind over matter.
His bladder was cramping, though. His vision kept being drawn to the trees, the most primal part of his brain screaming at him that any one of them would make for a perfectly suitable urinal. Perhaps, the other two wouldn’t even see him going there? But, no. With as full as Bryce’s bladder was feeling, he knew it would take some time to drain it all away. If those two got finished before then, came back and couldn’t find him, they’d probably do something really stupid once they realized they were unsupervised.
Bryce would hold it. He turned swiftly on his heels to face himself in the opposite direction from the trees. He told himself to just pretend they weren’t there; Therefore, there was nothing in the surrounding area he could use to relieve himself. So, he may as well just deal with it and keep holding on.
That same primitive part of his mind screamed back; ‘For God’s sake, KENNETH is peeing outside behind a tree! The guy that’s so pee-shy he had a meltdown when he couldn’t catch a fly that was buzzing around the restroom! If he’s doing it, you sure as shit should!’
Bryce ignored it, he bounced on his toes and paced in place ever so slightly. He could feel the urine inside him swishing and sloshing about his body. Why did the mens' room have to be out of order!?
Wait. The womens' room wasn’t!
But, he wasn’t THAT desperate, was he?
An angry pounding throb from his bladder warned him that, if he wasn’t now, he was certainly GOING to be pretty soon. He hadn’t even seen that many women on the train; What were the odds anybody was in there? And, if there was, maybe he could just pretend it was an honest mistake? He reached a hand to the door—
Dwight and Kenneth returned. “Ahh, that’s better!” Dwight said. “I really have to stop drinking so much water before long rides.” He smiled at Kenneth. “And you prattling on about the ocean sure didn’t help!”
Kenneth smiled slightly, but his face was pink. Obviously, he was embarrassed that he’d needed to pee outside. Or, maybe he hadn’t been able to? Maybe he was still holding it? Bryce hoped so; And he realized his hope wasn’t purely based in a desire to see Kenneth humiliate himself by doing that little dance of his. No, Bryce hoped Kenneth still needed to pee purely so that he wouldn’t be alone in his suffering for the rest of the ride.
Bryce’s hope shattered like an egg thrown against concrete when Kenneth lowered his voice and spoke; “Eheh, sorry… And, thank you for… Helping me, uh, ‘go’ again…”
So, he HAD peed, then. Just great. So, Bryce WOULD be the only one of the three needing to nurse a full bladder for the rest of the voyage. Maybe he should just put aside his pride for a moment; If Kenneth had just gone, that meant he had outlasted him already, after all. He opened his mouth to excuse himself to the trees, but was interrupted by the announcement that the train would be departing in a couple minutes.
Kenneth and Dwight dashed back on board, and Bryce trudged after them. When he sat down, his belt felt like a thirty pound weight slamming into his midsection. He looked down at himself for a second, startled that he may have leaked. He was dry, but he noticed a very slight bump in his lower abdomen. His bladder had been feeling swollen for quite some time, but now it looked that way as well.
When the train started to move, Bryce cringed at the sudden jolt. His bladder lurched in time with the train, and his sphincters had to work at least five times as hard to keep any of its contents from spilling. He ground his teeth together, and his ankles crossed against one another of their own volition.
He. Had. To. Go.
He’d made a horrible decision. He’d made a whole host of horrible decisions. He should have gone before they’d left for the station. He should have gone before the train arrived. He should have gone behind a tree at the last stop. He should have gone, and now there was nowhere to go, and he was trapped, and he was just so, so desperate! He grabbed up his book, placed it face down on his lap, used it for coverage as his hands wrapped themselves around his cock and squeezed away.
He looked outside, trying to see if he could recognize anything and gauge how far they were from their destination. But, of course, he knew they must have been quite far if they’d only just passed the half-way point. He felt cold chills shudder through his body as he began to consider the fact that he actually might not be able to make it. He actually might have an accident. He actually might flood his uniform with gallons of piss with Kenneth and Dwight sitting right across from him, watching the entire thing unfold.
Another hour later, and Bryce was experiencing the very definition of the word ‘agony’. He pulled his feet up from the floor, and tucked them underneath himself. He didn’t know why, but curling up on himself like that always helped him hold on. And, he needed all the help he could get if he was gonna have even the smallest chance of making it in time. His book had fallen from his lap when he did this, not that he noticed, and the grip he had on himself was now clearly visible between the straining crease of his legs.
“Bryce?” Kenneth asked, a hint of laughter in his voice. “By any chance, do you need to relieve yourself?”
“No,” Bryce snapped, aware of how ridiculous a statement that was when he was coiled up in a fetal position and squeezing the ever-loving fuck out of his dick.
“Why didn’t you go when we stopped?” Kenneth asked.
“Because I don’t have to go,” Bryce insisted. “I don’t… I don’t need to go.” His bloated bladder throbbed tyrannically as he denied what he needed. ‘No, you need to go so bad! You have to! You can’t hold it anymore—‘
“I don’t have to hold it,” Bryce said. “I don’t have to hold anything. I don’t need to pee.” He didn’t need to pee, because he couldn’t need to pee, because there was nowhere for him TO pee. Simple.
It didn’t matter how much it FELT like he needed to pee. He just… Didn’t have to.
Kenneth covered his mouth with his hand as he laughed, nudging Dwight.
“Be nice,” Dwight scolded. “You’ve been there before, and—“
“And he’s always an absolute dick to me about it!” Kenneth interrupted.
“I know,” Dwight said. “But, you should still be the bigger person.”
“He can’t be,” Bryce choked out, twisting around and trying to press the heel of his boot against his crotch. “Because he’s… He’s too short.”
Dwight threw his hands out. “Alright, fine then,” he said. “Kenneth, do your worst.”
Kenneth grinned like a six year old that had just been told they could have anything they wanted at the toy store. “H—Hey, Bryce? Think you can hold it until we get there?”
“No,” Bryce answered automatically. “I—I mean, no. Because… I… Don’t have to. I don’t have to hold anything. I just don’t need to pee.” He jiggled in place in spite of himself. “I don’t need to at all.”
“Well, if you don’t need to pee,” Kenneth said. “I guess you won’t mind if I talk about the ocean now, would you?”
What followed was a painfully endless diatribe about the beautiful, sparkling ocean of the coast, with careful and intense detail paid to the sight and sound of the way the liquid moved about on a windy day. When Kenneth could no longer think of new ways to describe waves, he moved on to babbling about how comfortable it was to have a nice, flat and empty bladder; “It was not easy for me to go behind the tree earlier, but I am so glad I did! I was starting to really need it, and it just… It felt so amazing to just let it all flow. Didn’t it feel good, Dwight?”
“Um, yes,” Dwight said. “I was… Starting to get kinda desperate.”
“I could tell! You were peeing so much, I’m surprised you didn’t peel the bark off the tree with all that! And, it must have felt really good, you were sighing so much and trying to catch your breath. But, I know that’s not the worst you’ve ever had to go. When was the worst?”
“Uh, one of the other times we took a train ride. Remember? The time we ended up having to go together once we’d arrived?”
“Yes, I remember that!” Kenneth said. “I had to go SO bad that day! And, when I finally got to let it out, it felt SO good. It actually made me shiver a little bit! You ever have that happen?”
Dwight nodded. He was, quite frankly, a little weirded out by Kenneth’s sudden willingness to discuss his bladder so openly. Apparently, his hatred of Bryce outweighed his self-consciousness. Which was really saying a lot… “Yes, I’ve gotten that before.”
“It feels really good when that happens, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Dwight agreed. “I don’t know why, but I guess it does make the relief a little more… intense.”
Bryce tried so hard not to listen to this. He couldn’t stand it. Every word that came out of those two dunderheads’ mouths caused a drip of urine to force its way down his urethra. He couldn’t even believe it was possible to need to pee this badly. He’d seriously never felt anything close to this before; Not even during the holding contest. His need to pee was now a full-body experience; The extreme, mind-breaking levels of pain he was under were no longer restrained to his bladder. He felt an intense, indescribable surge of white hot torment flare through his lower back. He had never, ever felt such an awful sensation before, and it honestly terrified him.
Was it actually possible for someone to need to pee so badly that they exploded? Bryce was starting to wonder, because it really DID feel like his body was being torn apart by the crushing, straining pressure it was under. The leaks had started up at some point, he wasn’t even sure when, but now they just wouldn’t stop coming. And they were getting bigger and bigger. He was certain there was a visible wet spot now, but didn’t dare raise himself from his position or move his hands to check.
The torture continued on and on; The assault from within Bryce’s body, the assault of Kenneth and Dwight’s discussion and the vivid, tantalizing images they conjured in Bryce’s mind. He could picture it so clearly, a long held stream of liquid gushing unabated into a blessed urinal… Oh, please, please let them get somewhere with a urinal soon! Please… Just… He needed one so bad… He’d do anything for one… He’d give his left arm if it meant he could pee…
He wasn’t sure how much time passed—Time had become a completely lost concept to Bryce with seconds somehow stretching themselves into years— but finally the train pulled into the station. Bryce got to his feet as gently as he could, but no matter how slowly and gingerly he moved, the humongous leak that followed couldn’t be stopped.
“Well, okay. We’re here!” Kenneth said. “Now, I guess since there’s nothing we have to do here at the station, we should just head straight to—“
“I HAVE TO GO!” Bryce exclaimed, shuffling for the doorway.
Kenneth quickly followed after him. Once they were on the platform Bryce’s eyes desperately scanned the area for a sign with the promise of a restroom while piss audibly hissed into his uniform.
Kenneth asked; “Go where?”
“To pee, you moron!” Bryce cried, bobbing in place, clutching his trickling cock for all he was worth as the pain below his ribcage became like something straight from the depths of Hell itself. “Ohhhh, I have to pee!”
“Are you sure?” Kenneth asked, standing on tip-toes so he could more easily block Bryce’s view of their surroundings. “Because, I thought you said you didn’t have to?”
Dwight had caught up. “Kenneth, you’ve had your fun,” he said. “Let him go.”
Kenneth sighed, “Okay…” He lowered himself from the tips of his toes.
Bryce’s eyes kept darting around desperately, as the swishing, trickly noises coming from his crotch grew louder and louder. Where the Hell was the restroom? He walked closer to the building at the platform, step by painful step, finally finding it tucked away in a crevice. He could make it… He could make it… Just…
Left foot, right foot.
Hss—
Left foot, right foot.
HSSSSSSS!
He… He couldn’t make it. He was peeing. He was a few yards from the urinal he so badly needed, but he just couldn’t get to it in time. He was peeing with the force of ten firehoses, all down his legs. A puddle formed quickly at his feet as his body forcibly rejected every drop of liquid within it. He stood there, stock still. His hands were still gripping his cock, but all that was doing was getting them soaked as the deluge built and built. He let go of himself, his heart pounded tyrannically in his chest.
This could not be happening. This. Could. Not. Be. Happening.
But, it was. Bryce was having an accident. In public.
His vision started to blur, cloudy fragments forming on the lenses of his glasses. A second later, he realized this was because he’d begun to tear up. Great. Even more liquid he couldn’t contain.
Urine just kept pouring and pouring, the puddle at his feet reaching an unbelievable size as it spread further and further out. He tried not to think it, but he did anyway; ‘God… What a relief…’
It both was and wasn’t. He couldn’t deny that the way his bladder slowly deflated after hours of constantly building pressure was very pleasant, but it was far outweighed by the disgust of his wet clothes clinging to his thighs and legs, the humiliation of this having to have happened in public, and the horror that— of all people— Kenneth was here to see it.
Bryce had given Kenneth zero reason to be merciful about this. He’d instead given him an entire surplus store’s worth of reasons to be as cruel as he could possibly be about it.
Bryce bore down on his muscles, trying to speed up the process. He had no idea what he was going to do after he was finished, but he very much wanted the rest of this piss out of him so he could try to move on.
It took a long time, though. He’d been so catastrophically full that this wasn’t going to end quickly. Rivulets streamed down his legs for almost two full minutes before he felt that he was finally getting empty. His body shuddered as the last of it streamed out, and that made his body heat up even more; How humiliating was it to get a pee-shiver while having an accident!?
He just stood there in his puddle, trying to catch his breath and to stop his tears.
Kenneth ran over to him, Dwight calling after him; “Be NICE.”
“Wow…” Kenneth exhaled.
“Shut the fuck up,” Bryce hissed out.
“I… You didn’t make it,” Kenneth stated the obvious.
“I’m aware of that!”
“I didn’t think you’d…” Kenneth covered his mouth, fought down a laugh. “I didn’t think you’d wet yourself!”
Bryce didn’t respond.
“You…. Uh… Feel better?”
“No,” Bryce snapped immediately.
“You must feel at least a LITTLE better…”
“Fine. A little bit,” Bryce admitted.
“I… Don’t know where I can get you different clothes to wear,” Kenneth admitted. “I mean… I can take off my coat and you can cover up with that, I guess.”
Bryce actually looked at him now. “You hate the cold.”
“I know,” Kenneth said. “But, what would people think of ME if they know my commander can’t keep his pants dry?” |
Every time Kenneth, Dwight and Bryce met with The Leader at his private villa, all three of them were a bundle of nerves. Impressing the most powerful man in the country was not easy, and they couldn’t afford to make even the smallest of mistakes. But, on previous visits, they certainly had.
The very first time they'd met The Leader, Dwight’s bladder had burst. He’d been unable to find the restroom in time, and the very second The Leader came down from one of his private rooms to greet them, Dwight had begun peeing all over the floor, completely unable to stop. It had soaked his uniform so thoroughly it looked like his lower half had been caught in a hurricane. And it had just kept coming and coming, drenching the carpet beneath his feet. Kenneth had dashed in front of Dwight, trying to block The Leader’s view of him. Kenneth proceeded to speak as loudly as he possibly could while he waved his arms up and down like he was trying to fly. Still, the puddle left on the carpet had been impossible to miss.
Once, it was requested that Kenneth model the march he’d been practicing. It had gone well for a few minutes, but eventually Kenneth suffered the most painful muscle cramp he’d ever experienced in all his days. A tightly knotted ball of pure, white-hot agony formed in the back of his knee. It had felt like someone had driven a knife deep into his muscle and was twisting it around. It completely immobilized that leg and he crumpled to the ground on his hands and knees. Kenneth had an amazing pain threshold, but it was still enough to bring tears to his eyes. When the pain finally ebbed to an intense, but manageable, throbbing, Kenneth realized that the only thing worse than the torturous torment of the affliction in his leg was the fact that he was now laying on the ground, close to crying, in front of The Leader.
Another time, Bryce had thrown up. And he hadn’t merely done it IN FRONT of The Leader either. No, Bryce had thrown up directly ON The Leader. And it had been a lot. The Leader had, understandably been incredibly furious and Bryce could hardly believe he’d been allowed to leave with all his limbs still intact.
This time, Bryce was very concerned that he would be humiliated before The Leader once again; The coat Kenneth had given him concealed the visual aspect of his accident from earlier that day, but it didn’t do a thing for the smell. The very second they arrived at the villa, Bryce was going to change out of the sodden, clammy clothing that was clinging stickily to his legs. In addition to the disgust he felt at the way his soaked pants clung to him, the liquid had cooled very quickly as they’d walked, and he now felt uncomfortably chilled. He was very eager to change.
But, he was also getting a little eager to pee again. He was shocked he already felt so full, but he assumed that his muscles were probably a little worn out after he’d… After he’d pushed them ‘too far’ like that… He was not about to run for the toilet the minute they’d arrived, though; Not with Kenneth and Dwight there. He was positive they already thought of him as a weak-bladder’d baby after what had happened earlier. Dashing off to pee the second he was able to would only confirm it to them.
When they were about halfway to the villa, Dwight stopped at the doorway to a small shop. “Guys,” he said. “I—“
“No shopping, idiot,” Bryce interrupted. “We can’t afford to be late.”
“I just wanted to use their restroom,” Dwight said, bouncing on his toes.
“Hold it!” Bryce barked. “We’ll be there soon.” ‘If I can’t pee, you can’t either!’ he added silently in his head.
Dwight gave a longing glance to the shop’s door before picking up the pace. He’d needed to go a little bit before they’d left the station, and he’d tried to relieve his bladder there. But Bryce had denied his request, and accused him of only asking to pee in order to mock him for having an accident. Dwight had insisted that no, he just really DID have to go, but Bryce had merely ordered him to get moving.
It hadn’t been an emergency, so Dwight reluctantly obeyed the command. But, now after about half an hour of walking, his need had become an impossible to ignore tingle in his midsection. He knew they were close to their destination, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how good peeing would feel right about now.
“A—Actually,” Kenneth said. “I would like to take a break now as well?” he requested. He, too, had tried to pee at the station only for Bryce to angrily deny him the opportunity. Kenneth shouting back at him “Just because YOU pissed your pants doesn’t mean I should have to do it, too!” hadn’t defrosted Bryce’s icy anger at all.
He also knew for a fact that the restroom in that shop was one he could use very, very easily. Only one person could use it at a time, the door locked, and it housed a very noisy fan. When turned on, the fan both kept sounds from outside the room from reaching Kenneth’s ears, and blocked the hiss of his stream from reaching anyone outside. It was so easy to pee there, much easier than at the villa. There he’d always be worried about The Leader hearing his urine trickling into the toilet, and Dwight would be unable to come assist him unless they were certain no one was around to see them going in or coming out together.
A few of the times he’d gone to the villa, he’d had to hold it in until night fell. Until after The Leader and all the servants had retired to bed. The relief he felt those nights was always out of this world— enough to leave him weak at the knees as his shivers made it almost look like he was vibrating— but, he already
had to go quite a bit and would prefer to do it now. Maybe he could convince Bryce somehow. “Um, don’t YOU need to go?”
He realized a second later that that was not the right thing to say. Bryce turned sharply on his heel, scowling over his shoulder at Kenneth. “Of course not,” he insisted. “How dare you patronize me?”
Kenneth gave his pinky a quick nibble, squeezed his thighs together, and resigned himself to yet more time spent holding it in. Maybe his bladder would cooperate a little more easily than usual once they’d arrived? He certainly hoped so…
“Now, pick up the pace, you morons,” Bryce demanded. “I will not let you make us late!” He walked at a much faster speed than was comfortable, his bladder protesting with every step, but he was just so eager to get to the villa, change out of his wet clothes, stand at the toilet and let it flow…
Following his fantasies, a pulse of liquid surged downwards and he abruptly stopped and snapped his legs together.
“What’s wrong?” Dwight asked, shifting from side to side as he made himself stop walking.
“Nothing,” Bryce said. “Just… Um…” He groped for an excuse. “Paulson, you are good at directions, aren’t you? We are going the correct way, right?”
“Yes?” Kenneth answered, a little confused. They’d walked this path more than once…
“Ah, thank you. Just making sure,” Bryce said. “I was concerned we were lost.” He forced himself forward, ignoring the angry throbbing from his bladder that demanded to know why he hadn’t done as the others had suggested and stopped for a pee-break at the shop. ‘Soon,’ he told himself. ‘You just have to wait for now.’
Eventually, they arrived at the villa. After being greeted by one of The Leader’s servants, Bryce quickly made his way to one of the guest rooms, peeled off his drenched uniform and put on a fresh one. He already felt better now that the fabric touching his skin wasn’t chafing against his flesh. After looking himself over in the mirror, and pressing a hand to his groin for a second to stem back a more insistent pang of need, he left the room and started for the toilet.
Then, he noticed that one of the servants was speaking with Kenneth and Dwight. Dwight was twisting around on the spot, stepping in place with both hands shoved into his pockets. Bryce was fairly certain he was using the cover of his pockets to conceal the grip he now needed to place onto his dick. Bryce couldn’t believe the servant hadn’t commented on it, or offered Dwight the restroom yet. It was plain as day that he needed it really bad.
Kenneth wasn’t exactly pee-dancing, at least not how Dwight was, but he was visibly uncomfortable. He was gnawing his fingers, and his body was shaking just the slightest bit with obvious tension.
Bryce smirked, delighted that they were being made to wait even longer. They should piss themselves too now, that way they wouldn’t be able to mock Bryce for doing the same. Bryce was about to proceed to the restroom to answer his bladder’s now very urgent pleas, when he realized what the servant was actually talking to them about.
The Leader’s personal chef was out sick for the day, so the servants would be the ones to prepare dinner. This wasn’t the part that freaked Bryce out. No, what freaked him out was when Dwight immediately said “That’s okay, we can do it today!”
Bryce knew what happened when either of those two cooked. It was practically a war-crime. Whenever Kenneth tried to cook something, there was fire and destruction and just… So much smoke. Dwight may not burn the everloving shit out of everything and cause accidental explosions, but… He really, really loved hot sauce. He put it on everything. Literally everything. Bryce had seen Dwight put hot sauce onto kiwi fruit before. And then he ate it. It was disturbing. And, Dwight just didn’t seem to understand that other people did not like hot sauce to the extent that he did. If those two tried to prepare dinner, The Leader’s private villa would likely explode, and the resulting dish would be a nauseating concoction of hot sauce and completely random items.
Absolutely not.
Bryce stomped over. “Yes, we can do it,” he interrupted. “But, I am in charge. I will be monitoring.”
“No problem,” Dwight said. His legs twitched beneath him and turned inwards.
“I suppose that will be acceptable,” the servant said. “You have shown yourselves to be trustworthy, if a little… unusual.”
Bryce scowled.
“Do you think you can get it done by six?”
Dwight nodded quickly, bouncing a bit more harshly where he stood. “Yes. We can get started as soon as I—“
“No,” Bryce said. “No wasting time.”
“But, Bryce, I—“
“No,” Bryce repeated. “We must get a decent start on the preparation, you two may relieve your puny, tiny little bladders after we’ve got the ingredients chosen.”
“Okay…” Dwight said. That part shouldn’t take too long, at least.
Kenneth plucked his hand from his mouth long enough to scoff at Bryce; “We’re not the ones with tiny bladders, you’re the one that had an—“
“If you keep talking, then there won’t be any break at all,” Bryce informed. “Now, come.”
Once in the kitchen, the three quickly settled on a recipe, and Bryce instructed Kenneth and Dwight to accompany him into the walk-in pantry to fetch all the ingredients.
Dwight followed Bryce in quickly, eager to get the ingredients out so he could finally unload his straining bladder, which was beginning to feel like it must have been the size of a watermelon. Kenneth did so a little more reluctantly. He just… He didn’t like places like the pantry. It was really small in there, that was for sure. And dark. The shelves made it feel even tighter. It was suddenly kind of hard for Kenneth to breathe… He looked back towards the door. He could leave now, if he wanted. Make this weird tight feeling in his chest go away. Make the sound of the blood rushing in his ears a little quieter.
But, if he disobeyed Bryce, he might be denied his promised pee-break in a few minutes. And, Kenneth really, really couldn’t do without it at this point. He was getting dangerously full. He felt the liquid swirling and swishing, colliding with the irritated and straining walls of his overstretched bladder. He pressed his legs against each other, trying to pin his opening shut between them.
Once they’d each grabbed a few cans from the shelves, Bryce turned to open the door and lead them out. His own bladder was already loosening itself in anticipation. Soon, he’d be in front of the toilet, his belt would be apart, his zip would be down, and he’d be able to just… Let everything out. God, that was gonna feel so incredi—
Click…
What the Hell?
Bryce twisted the knob again. It still didn’t budge. Horror flooded his veins as his bladder swelled and pinched, the liquid inside it slamming full-force against his sphincters. Bryce pushed himself against the door, trying to force it open. But, it just wouldn’t. It was jammed. “I—I think we’re stuck in here,” Bryce stammered out.
“What?” Kenneth asked flatly, praying to every last God he could think of that he had misheard that. But, apparently he’d done something to make God really angry, because Bryce just repeated his statement, unchanged.
No, no, that couldn’t have been right. Kenneth was well and truly trapped in this tiny, darkened space with no way out. He felt like a rat in a cage. Shit! A flood of memories cascaded into Kenneth’s mind’s eye before he could stop them. And these weren’t like normal memories where he could only really see them in his head and his imagination; No, these filled up his frame of vision just like the events had when they’d actually taken place. It was as vivid and real as anything else that had actually happened that very day.
His Father holding a gun as he swayed drunkenly on his feet, completely out of it.
His Mother yelling; “Put that down! It’s dangerous!”
His Father’s voice was so slurred one could barely make out his words, his tongue lolling from his mouth; “No, it isn’t. It’s not even loaded. See?”
A noise so loud it made Kenneth’s ears ring, and then blood, and screaming, and more blood, and suddenly Kenneth didn’t have a Mother anymore, and Father was dragging something out of his closet and slapping him and hitting him and hurting him. He felt all the stings, all the bruises being formed. He felt the heavy weight of his Father’s arms as he was forced to lay in the dark box, heard the lid slam, heard the lock clicking. He saw the darkness, felt the sides of the box pinching him as he tried to move even a fraction of a centimeter.
God, God… No, that was a long time ago. That was a long time ago, and his Father was dead now, and Kenneth was the one in charge of everything, the rest of the world had to sit back and watch, and obey, and do what he wanted, and… The memories faded and he saw the shelves of the cupboard once more, except… There… There wasn’t any air in here! Why wasn’t there any air!? He was going to die, he was going to die— But, Bryce and Dwight weren’t suffocating, something else was wrong. His heart was racing and his chest hurt so bad, like he just got tackled by every football player that had ever lived. He was gonna keel over dead in this stupid place, with the walls getting closer and closer together and the light fading to nothing, and—
Dwight’s arms were around him, Dwight was holding him tightly against his body. “Shhh, shhh…” Dwight said. “You’re safe. I’m here. It’s okay…” He ran a hand up and down Kenneth’s knotted spine. “I’m here… I’m here…”
Kenneth’s fists bunched themselves in the material of Dwight’s shirt. His breathing began to even out, he started to remember where and who he was. He remembered what was actually happening, and he buried his face into Dwight’s chest as his heart-rate began to return to normal. Everything was okay. He wasn’t going to be trapped forever. Someone would let him out soon, and it would be wide open and light again, and—
And…
And he could pee!
Dear God, he still had to pee! He still had to pee SO bad!
He was perhaps a little shocked, and maybe even a bit proud, that he hadn’t wet himself when the fear had overtaken him a moment ago. To make sure, he felt a hand between his legs and registered nothing but dryness. He was still holding it. He just… Wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to do so.
Bryce had watched Kenneth’s freakout and had dutifully kept his mouth shut. He’d made fun of Kenneth’s claustrophobia before, he’d laughed at him when he’d gotten so terrified he’d fallen apart before. But, that had been before he knew why Kenneth was so scared of dark, cramped places. Once he knew what had happened, it had ceased to be funny. Once Bryce had heard the story, he’d actually apologized for one of the first times in his life.
If Bryce were a more honest person, he’d admit that seeing the terror in Kenneth’s eyes a few moments ago had made his heart twist ever so slightly. Had made him feel something other than pure ‘contempt’ for the little twerp. The… emotion that Bryce refused to call ‘concern’ had managed to distract him from his bladder for a couple minutes, but now that Kenneth was breathing again, Bryce’s urge was back full force. He returned to the door, twisting the knob back and forth in desperation, as a cold fist of fear squeezed his bladder.
What if he had another accident? If he pissed himself for the second time in one day? Why didn’t he go at the shop when Dwight asked for a break? Why didn’t he go before they went to get the ingredients? He wished he could go back in time to the moment Dwight stopped at the entrance to the shop, instead of snapping and telling him to keep walking, Bryce would say; “Yes, that’s a good idea! This is a long walk, and we don’t know what will happen when we arrive. Let’s all go now!”
He wished so furiously that that had been his response. Then instead of being stuck here in the dark with a bladder that felt as though it were containing the entirety of the Atlantic ocean, he could be stuck here with a nice, flat abdomen that was in no danger of leaving him soaked for the second time today.
Now that Kenneth was a little calmer, Dwight decided it was time to solve his other problem. He scanned the shelves until he found a jug, promptly plucking it up with one hand while his other went to tug at his zipper.
Bryce turned around at the sound of Dwight’s zip being pulled. “What are you doing?” he demanded.
“I have been telling you for over an hour that I have to pee,” Dwight reminded, turning his back to Bryce as he began to position the jug in place.
“That is The Leader’s jug!” Bryce snapped. “Don’t even THINK about pissing in it.”
“I’ll clean it once we get out,” Dwight said. “I’ve been holding it forever!”
‘So have I!’ Bryce thought. ‘But, you don’t see me pissing on The Leader’s stuff…’ “If you piss anywhere in this room, there will be serious consequences. Zip up and hold it like an adult.”
Dwight cringed as he obeyed the command, tucking his member back into his pants before he’d been able to let out a drop. His bladder convulsed and shook with confusion as he pulled up his zipper without actually letting it release. He placed the jug back onto the shelf it had come from and tried not to look at it. Tried not to think of how good it would have felt to be allowed to fill it up. Still, Bryce had a point. Soiling something belonging to The Leader was probably not a very good idea.
But… If they didn’t get out of here soon, Dwight was probably going to soil the floor here, at least. ‘No, no,’ he begged inside his head. ‘Please, don’t let me pee myself here AGAIN…’
Kenneth hated to admit it, but he was relieved that Bryce hadn’t let Dwight pee in the jug. Kenneth didn’t think he’d be able to hold his own bladder if he was forced to watch and listen while Dwight gushed out a stream. Kenneth crouched down in one corner of the tiny room, doubled over on himself as buckets of sweat cascaded down his back. He was shivering, so tense that it was making him tremble. His hands were tucked between his legs, grappling tightly to his dick. He could feel a very tiny spot of wetness between his clenched fingers. “Dwight!” Kenneth whispered harshly.
Dwight came a little closer to Kenneth and painfully knelt down beside him, needing to grip his own cock as he felt a splash of urine pool slickly and warmly in his boxers. “Nnnh, yes Kenneth? Still feeling sc—“
“I have to go!” Kenneth cut him off.
“I know,” Dwight said. “You’ve been holding it since the train station like I ha—“
“Really, really bad!” Kenneth emphasized, a pink glow overtaking his pale features.
Dwight nodded, “I know,” he repeated. “I don’t know if I can make i—“
“Don’t!” Kenneth interrupted.
“Huh?” Dwight squeaked out, tightening his hold on his cock as drip after drip slithered down his urethra.
“Don’t wet yourself,” Kenneth commanded.
“I’m… really trying not to,” Dwight moaned, bucking his hips into his palms, feeling more wetness gathering between his thighs.
“Don’t,” Kenneth said, and his voice was firmer than Dwight had ever heard it. “If… If you do it, then I’m gonna—“
“Ohhhh,” Dwight gave a shaky nod as he understood. He gave a forced smile, “Heh… Uh. Maybe we should have peed ourselves at the station like Bryce did? HE doesn’t have to go now…”
Bryce turned to scowl at them, but was glad that apparently neither of them had caught on to the fact that he very, very much DID need to go. He’d begun knocking on the door now, hoping a servant would hear it and come free them so he could please, please, for the love of God, please just go take a piss!
He had to go so badly now that he was positive when it finally came out, it would spray like the jets at a car wash. He paced in place as he just kept smacking the door. “Hello?” he yelled. “Anyone out there? The door is stuck, and… My subordinates have to use the facilities!”
Nothing.
Bryce shut his eyes tight, palmed his crotch for a couple seconds as he jiggled. “Ohhhh, I hate this!”
“At least YOU don’t have to pee!” Kenneth responded furiously. “Seeing as you decided to wet yourself earlier! Why couldn’t you let Dwight and I relieve ourselves befo—“
“I didn’t DECIDE to do that!” Bryce hollered, raising one foot off the ground after the other in a way he hoped looked merely angry rather than desperate. “And, I didn’t let you two go because… Because we had a JOB to do, and that takes precedent over your inability to control your bladders.”
“OUR inabi— YOU wet yourself just a couple hours ago, you complete and utter—“
“You know what?” Bryce interrupted, now jumping in place on the balls of his feet. “When we get out of here, you’re still not permitted to go. I hereby order you to either hold it until tomorrow morning, or piss yourself. Those are your options now.”
“Go suck on an elephant’s nutsack!” Kenneth shouted back, scrambling to his feet to jab a finger into Bryce’s chest. He forced himself to ignore the slow and choppy river of urine that began to roll down his leg at all of the sudden movement. “The second that door opens, I’m going to pee, whether you like it or not!” He continued jamming his finger against Bryce. “I don’t care that you pissed yourself earlier, you freaking deserved it for being such an intolerable douche pastry all of the freaking time!”
“Ahh!” Bryce exclaimed, both hands flying between his legs, wrists pressing harshly into his crotch. One of Kenneth’s pokes had hit him way too low, way too harshly, and now a stream was seeping into his boxers that was taking all of his strength to restrain.
Kenneth stopped yelling, stopped jabbing. “Oh, so you DO have to go?”
“Yyyesss!” Bryce whimpered, thighs quivering, hands buried in the crease between them. “Yes, okay? I have to go! I have to go and I’m sorry, and I— I just have to pee so bad, Kenneth, it hurts! It feels like I’m going to vomit if I don’t pee! I can’t hold it! I have to pee! I have to pee extremely badly, do you get it!?”
Kenneth was stunned by Bryce’s sudden and extremely vocal pee-dancing, and by the fact Bryce had called him by his first name rather than his last. “Well—“
The door creaked open a little… Then all of the way. And there The Leader stood, “What’s all this screaming about? Bryce, were you just… shouting the house down about needing to—“
“E—Excuse me,” Kenneth stuttered. “Sir,” he added quickly.
The Leader stepped aside for a moment, and Kenneth ran out like the pantry was both on fire and filled with highly combustable materials. It was so light out here, so wide. So much safer out here, so much better, and— Ohhh, he had to PEE! Hands clutching his drippy penis for dear life, he dashed in the direction of the restroom as fast as his now wobbly legs would allow. He slammed the door shut behind him. Finally… Finally…
He turned in the opposite direction of the toilet as he fought with his belt. He always tried to avoid looking at the toilet when he was this close to bursting until after he’d gotten his clothing apart. Several times, his bladder would decide that being ‘at’ the toilet was good enough and just release without a care for how his zip was still up.
This time, however, the minute his brain registered he was at least in the right room, his bladder decided it was fed up with waiting. It wasn’t just a leak or dribble, but a stream that jetted from his exhausted urethra and wetted the front of his uniform before trailing its way down his leg. He tried to clench it off, but his muscles just wouldn’t listen, they were too worn out after such intense desperation. The trickling continued as Kenneth yanked his zip down in a panic and spun around to face the toilet. For a second or two, he missed and splashed the rim, but after he’d corrected that and his liquid began to flow with a noisy hiss into the water, the relief was so intense his eyes kind of rolled back in his head a little. He exhaled a soft sigh, trying to keep himself from unleashing a perverse moan while in The Leader’s home. “Phew…”
As his intense stream sprayed on and on and on, he remembered that Dwight still had to go really bad. And so did Bryce, not that Kenneth particularly cared what happened to him. He figured he ought to hurry it up a little, for Dwight’s sake at least. He gave a slight push with his muscles, and as his stream picked up to an almost unbelievable speed, there was a frantic banging on the door.
And with that, Kenneth’s floodgates slammed themselves shut. A horrific, aching sting traveled its way up his length before reaching his bladder and igniting it in flame. “Unnnghh!!” He cried out loud at the atrocious, intense pain.
“HURRY!” Bryce’s voice shouted from the other side of the door. “HURRY! HURRY UP! PLEASE HURRY UP!”
Kenneth pushed as hard as he could, begging his body to unclench itself again so he could finish. He was still so far from being finished! He still had to go so much! He wanted that mind-breaking, spine-tingling sensation of relief from a few seconds ago to come back! He needed it back right now! He couldn’t live without it!
“HURRY!” Bryce shouted again, followed by more furious pounding.
“I WAS hurrying!” Kenneth yelled back. “You startled me! You made me stop! Go away! Please!? Let me finish!”
Bryce didn’t go away. He didn’t let Kenneth finish. He just slammed his balled up fist into the door once again. “If you can’t piss, just come out! You’re wasting my time!”
“Go away!” Kenneth shouted back.
On the other side of the door, Bryce was doing the very definition of a pee-dance. He was jumping from foot to foot, one wrist pressed firmly into his crotch while the other hand made angry contact with the door over and over and over again.
Behind him, Dwight wasn’t fairing much better. He was clutching himself with both hands, knees knocking together, but neither of those actions were impeding his flood very well and he could still feel it dribbling out. “Bryce…” he whimpered. “Kenneth won’t finish if you keep freaking him out… Come wait farther from the door like I am, and he’ll be out a lot faster.”
“Shut up!” Bryce barked at him. “He’s got to learn to listen to m—“
“I—It’s nnnot a matter of ‘listening’,” Dwight said, trembling all over as he bobbed up and down. “He can’t help—“
Bryce wound his legs together practically double, and slammed his fist into the door. “HURRY IT UP AND GET OUT HERE NOW!”
Inside, Kenneth fought with his body to please let him do exactly that, the awful pinchy feeling still hadn’t abated, his bladder was still so god damned full. He hadn’t gotten out even one more drop since Bryce had started doing this. Why was he doing this!? Why couldn’t he just let Kenneth pee!? Didn’t he understand this would go a lot smoother if he just left Kenneth alone for a minute and allowed him the peace and privacy he needed? Kenneth could have been done by now if he could just be left alone!
Maybe Bryce didn’t actually need to go. Maybe he’d just been saying that stuff to annoy Kenneth, and this was just more of the same. Kenneth mashed the flat of his palm just beneath his navel, but this only succeeded in causing him more burning hot agony rather than allowing his stream to resume. He felt tears begin to prick at the back of his eyes.
Suddenly, all the shouting and banging ceased, and there was a sound of trickling liquid. Kenneth was so wrapped up in his own misery, he didn’t stop to consider what could be happening on the other side of the door. All he could understand was that the awful noises were gone, and had been replaced by the soothing sound of gushing water…
Hsssss….
When Kenneth’s stream started back up again, he really did unleash that perverse moan he’d been trying so hard to tamper down before. “Ahhhhhhhhhhh…..!!” Thank goodness! He was peeing again! And, it felt even better now! He could feel his bladder deflating as the supply of liquid in his tank rapidly depleted.
Outside the door, Bryce was standing stock-still, one hand raised in mid-air as if to strike the door again, the other still tucked between his legs. But, it wasn’t doing any good now. He was peeing. For the second time in one day, he was peeing himself. The puddle seeped into the carpet at his feet, darkening the material quickly. His pants grew warm and sodden once more, sticking to his legs as urine hissed down them in waves. The sound of Kenneth’s downpour behind the locked door, as well as his ecstatic, relieved moans only added to the shame and humiliation that crashed down on Bryce; A reminder of how he could have relieved his bladder correctly just a few steps away from where he currently was.
Against the hallway wall, Dwight quivered all over, the dribbles that had been leaking from him for the past half hour turned into streams. Witnessing Bryce have an accident, hearing Kenneth pour on and on… It was too much temptation for his own bladder, which had decided that if Dwight wasn’t going to let it join in willingly, it was going to force him to.
Frantically, Dwight’s eyes bounced around the hallway, and seized onto a vase. Without one more thought, he yanked down his zip, stumbled over to the vase, aimed and…. “Ahhhhhhhhh…..” He knew he was not supposed to piss in The Leader’s vase, but at least he wasn’t doing it in his clothes anymore. He’d wash it out later, it would be okay…
Everything was okay in Dwight’s world now, there was an amazing sensation of shrinking from within his abdomen as his ocean drained away into the vase.
“What the Hell are you doing!?” Bryce yelled, though his threatening tone was negated by the sound of his pee continuing to flood his clothes.
Dwight didn’t reply, merely moaned again.
After a few more long spurts, Kenneth was finally empty. He felt a little dizzy as he shook himself off and buttoned his uniform. Wow, that was better… As he washed up, he finally realized that the liquid noise he’d heard must have been someone having an accident… He hoped Dwight was okay!
He hurriedly opened the door, and found Bryce standing in a rapidly expanding puddle… And Dwight peeing like an erupting geyser into a very fancy and expensive looking vase. This was very far from the first time Kenneth had seen Dwight pee somewhere weird due to an emergency. Dwight really was willing to pee basically anywhere. Kenneth had seen him fill up countless bottles, piss against various buildings in broad daylight, and just whip it out whenever he was in the woods with no attention paid to anyone around him… Once Kenneth had even seen Dwight relieve himself into a drinking fountain after he’d won a water chugging contest and then discovered that the nearest toilet was out of order. So, it wasn’t too weird to find Dwight using alternative means to release his bladder, but using something that belonged to The Leader could get them all into a lot of trouble.
Kenneth stepped past Bryce, trying to avoid the spillage on the ground, and went over to Dwight. “So… Uh… Going in The Leader’s vase, then?”
“I couldn’t hold it…” Dwight admitted in a tiny sigh.
Kenneth groaned, but… If Dwight had been feeling anything close to the agony he’d been experiencing, he supposed he could understand taking such drastic action to make it stop. “Make sure you clean it out really well when you're done, okay?”
“Mmmm…” Dwight moaned a semi-affirmative sounding noise.
Bryce finally stopped gushing, and looked down at his water-logged uniform. The carpet beneath him squished under his boots…
Kenneth looked over at Bryce. He had a hard time feeling any sympathy for him now. This was his own fault; If he hadn’t been screaming at Kenneth and making it impossible for him to go, then this would have ended very differently. He told Bryce as much, and Bryce just glared at him before trudging away to get changed once more.
Dwight sprayed out a few last bursts, then began putting his uniform back together. “Ahhh,” he breathed out again. “Much better!”
“Wash the vase,” Kenneth stated dryly.
“I am, I am…” Dwight promised. “And, uh. Just so you know; I told Bryce to stop yelling at you earlier…”
“Perhaps after this, he has learned that lesson,” Kenneth said. |
Bryce could not believe that he’d wet himself. He certainly couldn’t believe that he’d done it twice. And he absolutely, positively could not believe that both of those times had been during the exact same freaking day. Bryce was disgusted with himself, utterly humiliated beyond all reason. He tried to put these awful experiences behind him, but he couldn’t. For the entire rest of the day, the embarrassment clung to him like the stench left over after being sprayed by a skunk. It was literally all he could think about; He’d pissed his pants like a toddler, he was pathetic, he was weak.
That night, however, before he went to bed, that was when he discovered a whole new problem. He was now very wary of his bladder, he didn’t trust it one iota. While there were usually some nights where he’d go to sleep without emptying it, he most definitely was not going to risk it tonight; What if now he spontaneously started bed-wetting, too?
So, before retiring to the room he and his idiotic subordinates were to spend the night in, he went into the restroom. He lowered his pajama pants and aimed, trying not to think of the fact that this would be the first pee he’d had all day that hadn’t resulted in soaked pants. After a handful of seconds, Bryce realized something was wrong.
He wasn’t peeing.
He could feel the distinct pressure in his bladder, the straining build-up of urgency at the base of his cock… But, nothing would come out. What the Hell? He grit his teeth and strained, grunting with the effort as he tried once more to force back the memories of soiling himself.
Not a drop.
Bryce was nowhere near confident enough in his holding abilities to just go to bed without peeing. And, the longer he stood there, the visual stimuli of the toilet right in front of his eyes, the worse he needed to go. His bladder recognized he was in the right place, his bladder understood that his dick was out, that it was aimed, that it was time to let go… But, the one stubborn muscle Bryce needed to ease just wouldn’t listen to any of that.
This had never, ever happened to him before in his entire life. The closest he’d ever had to this experience had been when Elizabeth had come into the men’s room while he was at the urinal to discuss some sort of urgent situation that couldn’t wait. Bryce’s stream had faltered mid-flow, startled by the presence of a woman in a men’s restroom. But, after a couple of seconds his pee had resumed easily enough.
This wasn’t like that.
This was something else entirely. Nothing he did could coax his pee to leave the confines of his bladder. He flicked on the sink, tried to focus on the sound of the running water. He felt about fifty times more needy, but still couldn’t manage even a tiny trickle. A little voice in the back of his head told him that he was doomed now, he could no longer control his bladder; It would only empty when IT wanted to empty, not when Bryce told it to. His bladder was going to play by its own rules now, and leave him soaked and humiliated no matter what he did to try to prevent the outcome.
Because, obviously, the liquid in him had to come out eventually. And, if he couldn’t get it to come out at the toilet, then it would more likely come out later when his holding muscles finally failed and decided to leave him a sopping, shuddering mess.
But then he was interrupted by another thought; Was this… Was this kind of like what happened to Kenneth?
Bryce shuddered to think that he and Kenneth could have anything in common at all, and Bryce didn’t think what he was experiencing here was quite the same thing. He didn’t have any fear that someone was watching him, which was what he was pretty sure Kenneth was always so stressed over. But, Bryce was still stressed, just over the prospect of having another humiliating accident.
“I can’t! I’m nervous!” was something Kenneth said often if Bryce ever told him to just go take a leak behind a tree when he began fidgeting during a march. Bryce had never once understood it; Kenneth was always so clearly desperate, Bryce could never actually believe his claims of being unable to go. He’d chalked it up to Kenneth just being stubborn or prudish. Two things which Kenneth definitely was, but… Then there was the night with the handcuffs, where Bryce had seen how much Kenneth struggled first-hand, that was the first time it registered to Bryce that maybe Kenneth and Dwight had always been telling the truth when they said Kenneth couldn’t control his problem.
Now, here he was experiencing a very similar problem, and suddenly a wave of understanding poured over his mind. Bryce couldn’t. He was nervous. Just like Kenneth. Loathe as he was to admit it, Bryce got it now. This awful feeling, this horrid, aching need to do something only to have his own body refuse it from him; This was what Kenneth felt every time he needed to pee.
And maybe the few times Bryce had overheard Kenneth screaming obscenities at his bladder and demanding it let him pee were still funny memories, but they made him feel something else now too. This was such a horrendous feeling; It was frightening, physically painful, and mentally draining. Bryce could suddenly understand how this sensation could cause a man to shout at his own uncooperative body. He felt like shouting now himself.
How did he fix this?! He couldn’t take it anymore! He had to go now!
What did Kenneth do?
Well, normally he got Dwight to come rub his back and shoulders and speak soft, encouraging words into his ear…
Bryce doubted Dwight was gonna do that for him. Not that he particularly wanted to ask, but he was pretty sure that whole… ‘ritual’ thing was something that was exclusively meant for Kenneth…
Bryce had a habit of peeing in the shower. He honestly didn’t even really intend to do it, just… Seeing, hearing and feeling so much water had a way of making him really have to go. And, the pipes were all the same, weren’t they? It was no big deal, even if others sometimes called him gross for it.
He sighed, a little annoyed by the hassle, but if there was a chance of this helping he’d put up with it. He pulled off his pajama top and slid down his pants and boxers. The skin on his thighs and ass was still a bit pink after having been scrubbed raw after his earlier accidents. He took off his glasses and set them on the counter, so that he couldn’t see that reminder as easily. He cranked the shower on, and once the water was warmed up, he stepped under it.
He didn’t get to experience a warm shower very often, so the hot water trailing down his naked back and spattering against his bare chest felt good. Relaxing. He closed his eyes and inhaled, and a few seconds later something else began to feel extremely good. The pain and tension in his midsection suddenly transformed into pleasure as a stream nearly as powerful as the one from the shower-head began to trickle from his cock. “Ahhhh,” he sighed. That was so much better…
He felt pretty bad about peeing in such a nice shower, especially one that didn’t belong to him, so he aimed his release directly at the drain. After a minute or so, he felt nice and empty. He turned the shower off, dressed himself once more, and opened the door to find Kenneth tapping his foot impatiently. “I thought you already took a shower,” he said.
Bryce stared at him for a moment. Kenneth should have been the last person on Earth he should have felt embarrassed to admit his sudden struggles to, all things considered. Kenneth would understand it better than anyone. But, their history and all the mean things they’d said and done to one another made Bryce choose a different path. “Awww, does little Kenneth have to go pee?” he sarcastically cooed. “Oh, of course he does. He drank too much soda earlier, yes he did. And now it’s all sloshing around in his puny, little bladder.”
Kenneth straightened himself out a little. “Bryce, everybody likes to relieve themselves before they got to slee—“
“I knew you’d be bursting,” Bryce said. “So, I decided to make you wait a bit longer and listen to the sound of the shower running. As payback for what you did earlier.”
“I didn’t do anything, it is your fault you pissed yourself. Not mine.”
“You kept me waiting too long on purpose,” Bryce said, though he couldn’t even force any conviction into his voice. He knew now what Kenneth had been feeling as he’d bashed his fists into the door earlier; He knew now how impossible he’d made Kenneth’s situation.
“I did not!” Kenneth snapped. “God, you’re such an asshole. I’m too tired to deal with your shit, just get outta my way.”
Bryce opened his mouth to say something, decided against it. He just walked back to the bedroom.
“Christ…” Kenneth mumbled, eagerly hurrying into the restroom. Bryce had been right about one thing; Kenneth had had way, way too much soda earlier.
***
The next morning, before the three left for the train station again, Bryce entered the restroom. He was certain that the previous night had been a fluke, but the moment he unzipped and took aim, the memories of his accidents slammed their way back into the forefront of his mind. Again, his muscles remained taut. Grimacing, he looked at the shower. Was there enough time for all that?
There was a knock on the door. “S—Sorry to bug you,” Dwight called. “But, we have to leave soon, and Kenneth and I still haven’t had a—“
Bryce zipped back up immediately and slammed the door open. “You’re right,” he said. “We are going to be late. No time for anything else. We leave now.”
Dwight frowned, “But, Bryce. Kenneth and I both need to—“
“You’re dressed,” Bryce interrupted. “You look decent. No more dilly-dallying, let’s leave.” If he wasn’t going to get to have a morning piss, those two weren’t going to get to have one either!
When Dwight begged for a pee-break at the shop that marked the halfway point between the villa and the train-station, Bryce considered it for a moment. Maybe he’d be able to go there? Maybe it was just being in the home of the most powerful man of the country that had been making it difficult to pee earlier? Dwight was dancing up a storm as he pleaded with Bryce, and it would make Bryce look bad if he had to ride the train back beside someone soaked in their own pee…
“Fine,” Bryce said. “But, I go first.”
Dwight nodded, but Kenneth started to protest how that was unfair since he still believed Bryce had peed before they’d left. “Just let it go,” Dwight advised. “At least he’s letting us have a break at all.”
The group headed for the back of the store, Bryce dashed into the restroom, trying not to let on how eager he was to use it. He once again unzipped and waited for the flow to start.
It didn’t.
It registered to him that Kenneth and Dwight would be able hear the exact moment he began urinating; The sound would no doubt remind them of his inability to keep himself dry the previous day. A second after that realization came an even more unpleasant one; The fact that Bryce had not yet begun to urinate was known to them as well. ‘Calm down,’ he ordered himself. ‘You’ve done this thousands of times, you know how it works.’
But, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t go.
Nevertheless, he flushed the toilet to give the illusion that he’d actually gotten the job done before leaving the room. Dwight was jumping in place, his hands very close to making contact with his crotch. Kenneth was shuddering and gnawing on his hands. “Kenneth…” Dwight was saying. “Either you have to let me go first, or we have to go togeth—“
“Neither of you goes first,” Bryce interrupted angrily. The idea of either one of them getting to enjoy the pleasure of an empty bladder while he still couldn’t figure out what to do to fix his own problem made fury bubble in his chest. “We’re running out of time.”
Dwight and Kenneth both immediately started to unleash whining protests. “But, you said—“
“I wasn’t paying close enough attention to the time. You may go at the station,” Bryce said.
“But…” Kenneth stammered. “I— That station is always so crowded, and—“
“Don’t care. If we get there and you can’t pee like a normal human, then you can hold it,” Bryce said.
The rest of the walk was painful for all three of them. Dwight leaked so many times along the way. Kenneth chewed his fingers so much he drew blood. Bryce’s bladder tightened and throbbed every time his boots thwacked against the pavement; And, the anxieties in his mind grew in time with his urgency. What if he couldn’t go at the station? He’d wet himself on the train, then! And, since he knew the restroom at this station had multiple stalls and urinals, he couldn’t keep the other two from using it, and he knew that at least Dwight would be successful at achieving relief there.
That meant that Bryce couldn’t even hope to share the misery of the accident that would surely be inevitable if he couldn’t make himself go.
When they arrived at the station, Dwight ran towards the restrooms like his life depended on it. Kenneth hobbled after him and nervously grabbed his shoulder. “I’ll help you,” Dwight promised. “Just— Ohhh!— Is it okay if I go first? I know you need it really bad, but I’m so—“
“Okay,” Kenneth said, bobbing up and down on his heels. “But hurry, alright?”
“I will, and… Remember what I said to you the other day about ‘trying’?”
Kenneth winced, “Okay.” He and Dwight entered the restroom, and Bryce followed them.
“Wow, Bryce, you have to go AGAIN?” Kenneth asked as he opened a stall. His bladder quivered at the sight of the toilet, and he hoped that it might just cooperate even without Dwight rubbing his shoulders.
“Shut up,” Bryce muttered, approaching a urinal and unzipping. Nothing happened. His mind was screaming in a panic; Kenneth knew something was up with him.
Dwight took the other urinal and a second later the room was filled with the sound of liquid spraying. “Ahhhhhh…”
Bryce winced at the noises. The trickling was making his bladder tremble with need, and Dwight’s relieved moans were making him seethe with jealousy. Bryce wished HE could feel that good… But, he couldn’t. Not a single drop of piss had made it to the urinal.
He heard Kenneth whimpering in the stall, and assumed that meant he was suffering the same issue… It didn’t make him feel any better like he’d thought it would. This was just such an awful thing to feel that he didn’t think anyone should have to endure it; Not even if they were Kenneth.
Once Dwight had finished up and left the room, Bryce started to feel even more panicked. He should be long done by now. Kenneth was probably wondering why the Hell he was still standing there.
Indeed, Kenneth WAS wondering that. He knew Bryce’s bladder should have been empty after he’d been at the urinal for so long; Especially since he’d already pissed TWICE in the last hour. ‘He’s doing this to screw with me,’ Kenneth realized. ‘He’s gonna keep standing there so I can’t go and end up having to hold it through the whole ride. Freaking dick.’ Once Kenneth figured that out, he just zipped up. He was going to leave the room and demand that Dwight take him into the wooded area to pee instead, before time ran out. Angrily, he left the stall and started for the exit.
“D—Did you go?” Bryce asked.
‘Dick!’ Kenneth thought once more. Kenneth knew that Bryce knew that he hadn’t peed. Kenneth knew that Bryce knew that he was the reason why! But, he wasn’t about to give the bastard the satisfaction. “Of course I did,” he huffed.
Bryce zipped up. “O—Oh, well. I did as well!” he said.
“Good for you! Want a freaking medal!?” Kenneth flung open the door to the restroom and dashed over to Dwight, explaining Bryce’s latest jerkassery. “I ORDER you to take me to those trees over there. And I DEMAND you assist me with my needs right this instant!”
Dwight bit back a smile. “O—Of course, Kenneth…” The pair headed that way.
Standing on the platform, Bryce watched them go. He knew what they were going to do. Dwight was going to use those magic hands of his that could apparently make someone pee when they were really, really struggling to. Kenneth was going to feel all better and have a nice, comfortable bladder for the rest of the trip.
Meanwhile, since Bryce didn’t HAVE a Dwight, he was going to have to hold it and hold it, and most likely piss himself yet again. He was angry, and he was confused. Why did this have to happen to him?
Sure enough, when Kenneth and Dwight returned, Kenneth was no longer shaking. There was a little pinkness in his face, but it was obvious that he was feeling much more relaxed. That infuriated Bryce’s jealousy even further. He considered for the briefest of moments actually asking Dwight if he could please, please do that calm-down routine with him too, admit that the reason he’d been acting this way was just because he had to pee and couldn’t get it to come out. But… He found his vocal cords were now just as locked up as his bladder was.
The train arrived and they boarded it. Bryce almost whimpered out loud when he sat down. Maybe when the train stopped at the half-way point, he’d have better luck? He doubted it, but it was all he could hope for anymore. What if he could now ONLY pee if he was in the shower? He couldn’t take a whole bunch of showers every day, there wasn’t time for that and people would ask questions. And, what if it only worked with hot water? Most of the time, the water at the barracks was pretty cold.
Did that mean he just… Couldn’t pee anymore? But, he had to pee! He had to pee right this second! As the train lurched away from the station, Bryce chewed on his lip and stared out the window, sweat rolling down his face. He tried to read his book for a little while, but the physical and mental stress he was under made it too hard to concentrate on any of it. He tried to daydream and enter a world of fantasy as he just watched the scenery pass by… But all that his imagination could spit forth were visions of streams striking urinals.
He even tried listening in on Dwight and Kenneth’s conversation. Thankfully, Kenneth wasn’t babbling about the ocean this time, instead he was rattling off everything he knew about flamingos, which were his favorite animal. Bryce actually tried to pay attention, thinking that so long as Kenneth didn’t know any ‘fun facts’ about how flamingos peed, it might just make a serviceable distraction from his urge. “A group of flamingos is called a ‘flamboyance,’ Kenneth said. “They lay one egg a year, and can grow to be five feet ta— Oh, Bryce, are you feeling okay?”
“Y—Yes,” Bryce insisted. “Why?”
“You look kind of pale,” Kenneth said. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Warily, he took his feet up off the floor and tried to sit himself on top of them.
Dwight did the same, a little uneasily.
Bryce was known for having a very sensitive stomach; Vomiting wasn’t too uncommon an occurrence for him. Having seen their commander’s face pale seconds before he began to retch many times before, the two were not too keen on getting their boots caught in the crossfire.
Bryce noticed their precautionary measures and shook his head at them. “I’m not sick,” he insisted. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t fine, though. A few sharp pinches assailed his opening, reminding him of how ‘not-fine’ he actually was. He was a little surprised that he hadn’t leaked yet, with as full as he felt, he thought he should have by now. Part of him was relieved, but another part was worried; He must have been really locked up if he couldn’t even dribble, right?
“Maybe someone has antacids here,” Dwight said. “Want me to ask?”
“No,” Bryce said. “My stomach’s fine.” His problem was a little bit below his stomach… And it was something an antacid wouldn’t fix. He wasn’t even positive if it was something a urinal would actually fix. Because, he was pretty sure that if one spontaneously appeared somewhere on the train, he still wouldn’t be able to use it. All it would serve to do would be to taunt him with the notion of relief he couldn’t manage to achieve.
Bryce brought his legs up underneath himself, the same way his subordinates were doing. He pressed the heel of his boot into his crotch as he fought down horrendously wicked pangs of need. He tried to guess how far they were from the stop, but everything out the window looked the same to him. Kenneth was the only one here that was good with directions…
“O—On second thought, I am a little motion sick,” Bryce lied. “Paulson, are we close to the stop? I… Am certain I’ll feel better after a bit of fresh air.”
“I believe we are close,” Kenneth said. “Perhaps thirty minutes? Give or take?”
‘Thirty minutes,’ Bryce repeated to himself. ‘You can do thirty more minutes. Wait.’ That was what he did. He waited, and he pressed himself against his heel. He waited, and he grit his teeth and clenched his eyes shut as agony soared through his midsection. He waited, and he let out a cry of shock when the pain in his bladder started to move up, pummeling his lower back with a ferocity he’d never felt before.
Bryce had enjoyed being whipped on his back before, he’d found it fun, but this… This wasn’t fun, there was no tingle of pleasure beneath the surface of the pain, no triumphant feeling from being able to withstand it… No, this was just pure pain all the way down. Nothing else. “Ahhh!”
Kenneth and Dwight were staring at him, and he realized he’d yelped out loud. He quickly fought to come up with an explanation. “M—Muscle cramp,” he said.
“Oh, I’ve gotten those,” Kenneth said.
“I know, there was that time you fell over when you were supposed to be showing off your march,” Bryce said, trying to muster up a bit of malice into his voice, but finding himself incapable of injecting it around the crushing pressure he felt throughout his body.
Kenneth rolled his eyes. “Well, not that I want to give you advice now, but usually if you get cramps like that, it means you’re a little dehydrated. You should drink something.”
“N—No!” Bryce exclaimed, much louder than he needed to. “I— I assure you, I will not feel better if I drink something.”
Kenneth frowned. “Fine. Be that way. Enjoy your cramps.”
Thank goodness he was dropping it…
“I’ll get you some water when we stop,” Dwight said.
Bryce groaned. His body couldn’t handle one more drop. It felt like he was completely made of water, like someone could put him into a cup and drink him. Like a strong gust of wind would make him ripple. He did NOT want to have to drink any water at the stop… But, maybe he would be able to relieve himself there too, and it wouldn’t matter. He tried to be optimistic, tried to think it would happen.
The stop came a few minutes later. Bryce shakily rose to his feet, but decided he didn’t have to try and hide his inability to walk normally. The others thought his legs were cramping, after all. He stumbled his way from the train and headed in the direction of the restroom.
Once he had disappeared behind the door, Dwight took Kenneth aside. “I’ll go get the water for Bryce,” he said. “And, we should both pee while we’re here too. Go wait by the restroom for me, alright? I’ll help you go after I get the water.”
“Okay,” Kenneth said.
“Or, do you need it badly?” Dwight asked. “Because I can do that firs—“
“I can wait, just go,” Kenneth said with a fierce blush. It felt good that Dwight was so attentive… But, it was just so embarrassing sometimes! Kenneth went to wait by the restrooms for his friend. After a couple minutes of waiting, Bryce stumbled out on shaky, knock-knee’d legs. He almost slammed right into Kenneth.
“Hey!” Kenneth said. “Watch where you’re—“
“Paulson!” Bryce said gruffly. “I—“
“Don’t go blaming me now!”
“No! I wasn’t going to! I just… I need to talk to you! Now!”
Kenneth grimaced. Usually when Bryce wanted to talk, it was to either insult him or demand he perform a task he hated doing. “What?”
“That… That thing you have!” Bryce said, and Kenneth picked up a weird and completely out of place hint of urgency in his tone. He also noticed that Bryce seemed to be vibrating, shivers powering through his entire body.
Kenneth sighed, “Could you be a little more specific?”
“You know!” Bryce said. “When you can’t… When you can’t…” He gestured behind himself at the restroom with the hand that wasn’t buried into his pocket.
“Just because you pissed yourself twice yesterday, that doesn’t mean you can make fun of me more for—“
“I’m not!” Bryce exclaimed. “Paulson,” he started. And then; “Kenneth… If you don’t have Dwight to help you get calm. What do you do?”
“Why do you want to kn—“
“Just tell me!” Bryce cried out. “Please, just tell me!”
“Well, normally I end up just having to hold it. I guess there have been a couple times I’ve been able to do it without him, but… When that happens it’s because I’m trying really, really hard to picture that he IS there. Reminding myself of the stuff he says to me, things like that.”
Bryce chewed his lip so hard he tasted blood. That didn’t help him, because he didn’t have any memories like that to think about! And, even Kenneth said that doing that only worked rarely, and usually he just had to continue holding… Continuing to hold sounded like a death sentence to Bryce. It already just hurt SO much! He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t take this constantly building sensation of pain that just got worse and worse and never better. That never slackened or went away no matter what he did. That would only continue to worsen as he was so totally incapable of completing such a basic biological function. The shame would worsen, the fear would worsen, the pain would worsen… On and on and on, for who knew how long!
“Oh, God…” Bryce whimpered. “Kenneth, how the FUCK do you live like this!?”
Kenneth blinked at him. Once. Twice. Three times. “Huh…?”
“I— I’ve been feeling this for… For a few hours, and it’s just… I’ve never felt anything so terrible in my entire life. But you… It’s always THIS for you!?”
“You are… Having that problem now?” Kenneth asked, confused.
Bryce looked down at his bouncing, shuffling feet and tried to give a nod. He knew Kenneth was going to make fun of him, he knew Kenneth was most likely not going to offer him any help. Even if Kenneth did actually have the ability to help, Bryce had given him no reason to do so. Kenneth was the kind of person to always choose ‘revenge’ over any other option, and now he had the perfect opportunity to enjoy some.
Kenneth was about to scoff at Bryce, turn away from him and tell him to just deal with it, the same thing Bryce had said to him many times before. He was about to tell Bryce that he didn’t care, that he deserved this. He imagined how awful Bryce must have felt to have to endure the taunting misery of standing at a toilet with a bladder that was on the verge of rupture yet just refused to release its liquid.
Then, Kenneth realized that he didn’t wish the Hell of a corked up bladder on anyone; And that included his worst enemy. “…Okay,” Kenneth said finally. “I’ve… Only sorta done this once for Dwight before, but… I’ll try it, alright?”
“What?”
“Just… Come on,” Kenneth said. He led Bryce back into the restroom. “There’s more space for both of us if you use a urinal, but if you can’t do that we can try it in the stall instead.”
“Both of…” Bryce trailed off as he yanked his hand from his pocket and pressed it into his groin openly. “You’re going to—“
“I’m going to try. I may hate you, but you don’t deserve to feel this. Nobody does,” Kenneth said.
Bryce shakily pulled down his zip once again and positioned himself at the urinal. He tried to let loose, but again the same feelings and shameful memories came back, leaving his bladder plugged and uncooperative. He cried out a little in the back of his throat.
“I—It’s okay,” Kenneth said a little awkwardly. He needed to stand up on the tips of his toes to rub Bryce’s shoulders and whisper into his ear. “I swear, if you make fun of my height again—“
“I won’t!” Bryce promised, dismayed by the sheer desperation in his own voice. “Just help!”
Kenneth began to rub Bryce’s tense muscles. He directed his eyes up to the ceiling as the position he found himself in had allowed him to see more of Bryce than he’d wanted to. Kenneth realized then that, considering all the times Dwight had helped him out this way, he’d definitely gotten a decent view of his dick on several of those occasions. He’d never really thought about that before; It had never even crossed his mind that Dwight would have been able to see that area… And, now that it had registered, it didn’t really bother him as much as it could have.
Kenneth continued to rub Bryce’s shoulders. “It’s okay,” he said once more, trying to recite the things Dwight always said to him. He wasn’t sure what exactly was causing Bryce’s anxiety, but assured him over and over that no one was going to watch, that he was safe and that it was okay to go where he was.
Bryce still didn’t start spraying, however.
“Wow, you are really locked up…” Kenneth said nervously, worried that he was just really bad at this. Talking softly did not come naturally to him, after all.
Bryce whimpered, “It hurts…”
“I know,” Kenneth said. “Believe me, I know it hurts… But, it will feel better soon. Trust me, when you finally go after being all tense like this, it just feels…” He blushed, realizing he was saying a lot more than he’d wanted to. “Uh—“
“How does it feel?” Bryce choked out.
Kenneth fought down his embarrassment. If talking about this was helpful to Bryce, he’d force himself to do it. “It feels absolutely wonderful,” Kenneth said, continuing to rub. “I—I swear, you feel all this tension just disappear from every last nerve in your body. You start to feel really tingly all over, and you basically turn to jelly.” As he described the wonderful sensations of relief he was trying to help Bryce discover, he started to have a more difficult time remaining on the tips of his toes because he suddenly really wanted to shift his weight around.
“But,” Kenneth continued. “Your… middle area, that feels best of all; All the pain you feel is going to just convert itself into this indescribably good feeling, it’s just incredible. You go from intense agony to unbelievable pleasure in a matter of seconds…” Kenneth tensed his thighs a little as he continued to speak, the memories of all the times he’d felt that way were colliding with his bladder and it was starting to feel extremely full. “It’s just… Nnnh, it’s really great, Bryce. When you’ve just—“ He allowed himself to drop back onto the floor so he could cross his legs together. “—Needed to go so bad, and you finally get yourself to let it out, it’s so—“
Hsssss…
A few seconds after that sound filled the room, it registered to Bryce that he was finally peeing. All of the feelings Kenneth had promised him washed over his body and he moaned; “Ahhhhhhh….”
Kenneth began to bob in place a little at the sound of Bryce’s stream spattering into the urinal. He was glad that his vivid descriptions of relief had helped Bryce go, but having to talk about that for so long had nearly been too much for his own bladder.
Kenneth wasn’t going to ask Bryce to hurry up and leave though, he knew from experience that being rushed by someone would just cause him to lock up again. So, he stood there and endured the noises along with the pounding urgency now overtaking his abdomen.
Wow, Bryce really HAD needed to go… He’d been blasting the Hell out of the urinal for over half a minute already and it still didn’t sound like his piss was winding down at all.
Bryce did feel his body start to turn to jelly, like Kenneth had said it would. It took a concentrated effort to keep himself upright as he continued to pour away. He felt the tingling as well, a delightful little shiver that started in his toes and went all the way up to the top of his head. His spine shuddered with pleasure. “Ohhh…”
That second moan was too much for Kenneth, his bloated, quivering bladder was simply too open to suggestion, and a jet of urine slicked down his leg. He yelped and ran into the stall, noisily slamming the lock into place as he hurriedly got himself out and aimed. He doubted he’d be able to keep going, but at least if he did he’d been in an okay place now. Sure enough, now that he was at a toilet and free to let everything loose, his sphincters remembered how to hold it back.
Then Bryce moaned again.
And it was like a switch was flicked. Kenneth’s faucet suddenly erupted full-blast and his stream noisily struck the water in the toilet bowl. He felt himself going red once more, corrected his aim so he was no longer peeing directly into the water and it made a little less noise. He bit back a relieved cry of his own, amazed that he was actually doing this. So, apparently he COULD pee around Bryce, just so long as Bryce was ALSO peeing and moaning super loudly? He doubted they’d be in this situation together too many more times, but it was good to know that there was at least one set of circumstances wherein Kenneth could pee while in Bryce’s presence.
When the sound of Bryce’s pee dwindled and his moaning finally ceased, Kenneth felt himself starting to tighten back up again. ‘No, no, please!’ he begged as his stream began to slow and stutter. ‘Please, I’m not done yet!’ He pushed down on his muscles, trying to keep his flow coming. “Br—Bryce, go wait outside for me! A—And make sure nobody else comes in until I’m done!”
Bryce was about to fire back something mocking, but stopped himself. Kenneth had helped him. Kenneth had made him feel so, so good. He could stand to be a little nice to him. Just this once. “Okay,” he said instead, and a few seconds later Kenneth heard the door opening and closing.
Content in the knowledge he was alone, Kenneth’s bladder went back to gushing unrestrained. “Ahhh….” he sighed out, finally able to vocalize his relief now that no one was around to hear him do so. After about one more minute, he felt fully drained and zipped up.
He exited the restroom to find Bryce waiting with Dwight, whom was jumping in place and obviously desperate. “Bryce wouldn’t let me go!” he whined, noticing Kenneth staring at him.
“Paulson said not to let anyone in until he was done,” Bryce stated.
“Dwight is an exception!” Kenneth said. “He doesn’t count!”
Dwight hurried into the restroom while Bryce began to argue with Kenneth about how that didn’t make sense. “You said no people!”
“He’s not people, he’s Dwight!”
***
That evening, after they’d returned, Bryce again went to relieve himself. He felt a bit of trepidation, scared that he would freeze up again. The relief he felt when he’d pulled himself out and started going a couple seconds later was truly immense… So, maybe it had been a fluke? Something brought on by the shock of having had two accidents? He hoped so, he didn’t want to have to feel that way ever again. It would have been just awful to have that happen every time he needed to pee…
‘Poor Kenneth…’ Bryce thought. He chastised himself for the thought a second later, but he couldn’t deny that he suddenly felt the smallest kernel of sympathy for the usually irritating man. |
Bryce was suddenly being a lot nicer to Kenneth about his shy bladder. When Kenneth requested a break to return to the barrack, more often than not Bryce actually granted it. Kenneth was suddenly able to pee more than just two or three times a day. It was so strange to not be rushing back to his barrack at the end of every day, with his abdomen straining in agony as little drips of urine made their way down his legs. Instead, he’d be able to walk back fairly normally, without pain shooting through him with every careful, hurried step.
The only problem was that Bryce was, perhaps, a little TOO attentive to the matter. At least once an hour, he would ask; “Kenneth, you are fidgeting, do you have to go? Because, you can go if you need to!” It was uncomfortable for Kenneth to have so much attention placed onto this topic.
At first, Kenneth had thought Bryce was doing it purely to tease or provoke him, but the more it happened, the less that seemed to be the case. Bryce never smirked or laughed when he asked, and he never used juvenile, mocking language (“Awww, does little Kenneth have to go potty?”) like he’d done a few times in the past. He always seemed sincere in his concern, and the unfamiliarity of Bryce not going out of his way to make his life harder, mixed with the exact subject matter at hand, made Kenneth feel completely out of sorts.
Kenneth didn’t much enjoy his superior asking him if he needed to pee, it made him feel like a child. The fact that causing this discomfort was apparently NOT Bryce’s intention made him unsure of what exactly to do about it. A few times, he’d literally bit down into his tongue to keep from snapping at Bryce to stop asking, that he’d inform Bryce of when he wanted a break… As much as Kenneth wanted Bryce to stop calling attention to the fact that he was pee-shy, he didn’t want to risk making Bryce so angry he took away Kenneth’s new privilege of actually being allowed to relieve himself when the need arose.
Bryce was as surprised by his newfound leniency as Kenneth was. After his own miserable experience of being unable to void his bladder, he’d been unable to forget the feelings that had swarmed through his body and mind. He’d been perfectly capable of urinating ever since that day, he hadn’t had even one more instance of locking up, so he kept telling himself he had no reason not to return to his previous treatment of Kenneth.
But, the memories of that day would flood back into his mind’s eye. The fear, the pain, the uncertainty… And Bryce just wouldn’t be able to do it. Even when he reminded himself that this was KENNETH he was dealing with, he was unable to convince himself that anyone deserved to suffer that way.
He’d found himself monitoring Kenneth, and not in the way he usually did where he was nervous Kenneth was planning to pull a prank on him. He was monitoring his enemy for signs of pain or discomfort. ‘Why do you CARE if he’s hurting?’ Bryce kept asking himself. ‘He’s freaking Kenneth!’ Just as soon as those thoughts entered his mind, he would recall the horrific, pinching pressure he’d endured for so long, remember that that was something Kenneth felt all the time, and he’d stop questioning his motives.
Bryce had become a little bit concerned by how infrequently Kenneth relieved himself. He only ever requested one or two breaks per day, which Bryce now granted easily, but… That still meant he was only emptying his bladder a maximum of two times within a twelve hour time span each day. Bryce had seen how much soda Kenneth liked to drink, Bryce knew Kenneth adhered to the hydration rules they were all meant to follow and drank the required amount of water each day… Every time Kenneth finally asked for a break, it was obvious that he was aching for it.
So, Bryce had tried to emphasize to Kenneth that it was okay to ask for a break more often. Of course there would be times when taking a break would be unfeasible, but other than that he was free to ask! But, whenever Bryce suggested to Kenneth that he take a break… Kenneth would get this look on his face, turn bright red, and straighten himself out limb by limb before assuring Bryce he didn’t need one just yet.
It was like Kenneth only actually allowed himself to pee once it had become an emergency and he couldn’t wait a moment longer. The only exception to this rule appeared to be when he was preparing to leave his barrack, in which case he would always go right before he departed just in case there was no option available to him later.
This was confusing to Bryce; He’d assumed the only reason Kenneth ended up so desperate all the time was because he physically couldn’t go in most locations. But now, here Bryce was, allowing him to pee in privacy whenever he wanted, but he was still holding it until he was in obvious pain.
Bryce wondered for a time if Kenneth secretly enjoyed the feeling of a full bladder, kind of like how Bryce himself enjoyed the feeling of being whipped… But, that theory was pretty implausible. Kenneth ranted and raved about how much he hated having to hold it in all the time, and Bryce had seen him break down in tears over it once before. Obviously, he wasn’t deriving pleasure from any of that.
Maybe he just liked the feelings that came after all that, though? The way he’d described them to Bryce when they’d been in the restroom together that day, it was obvious how much euphoria Kenneth derived from finally relieving himself after spending so much time in agony. Maybe he was forcing himself to hold it so it would feel extra good to let it go later on?
No, that didn’t make sense either. For as much as Kenneth clearly enjoyed the release of a full bladder, he was also extremely embarrassed by how copiously he urinated and all the moaning he couldn’t stop himself from doing.
Those were the only theories Bryce had, and neither of them seemed to be correct.
***
The Leader was going to be giving a speech. Of course, Kenneth, Dwight and Bryce would be attending. When they got to the train station, Bryce told his subordinates to relieve themselves, noticing the fierce blush on Kenneth’s face and the way he deliberately looked everywhere aside from at Bryce.
He still followed after Dwight to the restroom, though. “I… I don’t really have to go that much,” Kenneth said. “I went before we left today…”
“I’ll help you relax in a moment then,” Dwight said, readying himself at the urinal and letting out his stream.
Kenneth did have to go a little… And the sound of Dwight relieving himself made him need it a bit more. But, it was just… He really shouldn’t be going this often. He had more self control in this matter than most people did. He didn’t need to have frequent pees. He wasn’t SUPPOSED to have frequent pees.
Dwight zipped himself up and had Kenneth trade places with him. As Dwight rubbed his back and shoulders, tried to coax him into going, Kenneth imagined himself letting out a brief, thirty second stream…
“THAT’S what all the fuss was about!?” he could recall his Father yelling when, by some miracle, Kenneth had actually released his bladder under his supervision. “You barely even had to go! You were just trying to waste my time again, weren’t you?”
Kenneth remembered how scared and confused he’d been in that moment; He’d finally done it! He’d peed even though Father was right there and screaming at him! He’d thought Father would be happy, that maybe he’d relax the peeing rules a little bit as a reward… But, instead he’d only been met with more rage?
Father kept shouting, instructing Kenneth that he was only to ask for the toilet when he REALLY needed to use it. But, Kenneth had thought he HAD really needed to go… It had certainly felt like it! He’d been jumping from foot to foot and holding himself while he pleaded for permission for the last half hour! And, he’d thought a lot had come out… He’d been going for almost a minute!
Father informed him that he was disgraceful, that getting so upset over such a meagre amount of urine meant he was weak and clearly wasn’t even properly housebroken yet. He was given the usual round of punishments, and left feeling very ashamed and confused as to what was actually expected of him.
Now, as Dwight rubbed his back and tried to help him pee, Kenneth found himself remembering those moments clearly, and that he was not supposed to pee unless it was either a real emergency, he was about to head to sleep, or he was preparing to leave his barrack for the day. His muscles remained locked up tight for several minutes, before he told Dwight to just stop, it wasn’t going to happen.
“You’re okay though, right?” Dwight asked. “You can handle the whole ride without going now?”
“I can,” Kenneth promised. “Like I said, it’s not… It’s not urgent.”
Indeed, Kenneth could handle the entire the train ride without incident, but he was very eager to get to his room at the inn they were staying at. The inn was crowded with so many people wanting to hear The Leader speak, but the walls were thick and Kenneth couldn’t overhear anyone once he was in the room he’d be sharing with Dwight. He glanced at the door to the toilet the minute he’d entered the room, his bladder recognizing that it was close to a location where it could be emptied. His ankles rubbed up against one another, like the way he’d rub two sticks together to try and spark a fire.
“You go pee,” Dwight told him. “I’ll unpack our stuff.”
Kenneth gave his pinkie a quick nibble, “Nnnh…. No, I can help,” he insisted.
“Kenneth, you’re bursting,” Dwight said. “Go.”
Kenneth nodded and shuffled to the restroom, taking ginger steps as his bladder struggled to contend with the pace of his movement. He unzipped once he was at the toilet and told himself it was okay to let it flow…
Then was assaulted by memories of his Father screaming at him that he was not allowed to piss when he still had chores he needed to complete. ‘That bastard is dead,’ Kenneth reminded himself. ‘He’s dead. Gone. He doesn’t matter anymore. Dwight is the only person with you right now, and HE said that it is okay for you to go, so go!’
But, the memories continued to replay themselves in his imagination; Forcing him to relive events whose only redeeming quality was that they were over. He pressed a hand over his middle and pushed down as harshly as he could stand it. He stamped his feet against the tile floor as his sphincters began to feel like a harsh, stone dam trying to restrain the Atlantic Ocean… But, the stone was strong, and it didn’t give, didn’t allow even a drop to splash over its edge.
He whimpered quietly in his misery. It may not have been an emergency at the train station a few hours ago, but it was definitely becoming one now! He needed Dwight… He forced himself to pull his zipper back up, ignoring the wails from his bladder that insisted he continue to stand there and try, then exited the room.
Dwight had put all of their clothing away, and Kenneth felt bad he’d spent so much time in there that he hadn’t been able to help at all. Especially since he hadn’t even gone… Maybe he should wait to ask Dwight for—
“You couldn’t go?” Dwight asked before Kenneth could ponder the matter further.
Kenneth supposed he was being rather obvious. He hadn’t noticed it, but his legs were crossed tight and he’d been jiggling in his spot. “…No,” he admitted.
“It’s quiet here,” Dwight pointed out. “Bryce is in a different room… I’M not making you nervous now, am I?” Dwight was scared of what they’d do if THAT was the case; If Kenneth’s problem was worsening, if he now couldn’t even go in front of the one person that had always been able to help…
“I don’t think so,” Kenneth said, chewing on his fingers like they were a particularly tough cut of meat. He floundered as he tried to come up with a way to explain that he couldn’t go if he felt there was work he had to do… “I— I think it’s just… The new location, and stuff," he said instead.
Dwight nodded. When they’d been in training, it had taken Kenneth several nights to get used to his new environment enough to let his bladder empty in a timely fashion— Even with Dwight soothing him. The very first night, Kenneth had been struggling for almost half an hour as Dwight stroked comforting patterns into his back. Then, someone had knocked on the door and barked at him to hurry up.
In that moment, Kenneth’s frustration with himself and his situation boiled over and flowed outwards with the same ferocity that he’d wished that his urine would. And, when Kenneth got angry, he got loud; “Well!?” Kenneth had shouted back at the person. “Do you want the job done FAST, or do you want it done RIGHT!?”
And, Dwight just couldn’t help it. He couldn’t hold back the laughter that bubbled up in his chest, he was laughing so much he could no longer rub Kenneth’s shoulders in the gentle, calming way he’d needed to.
Kenneth started to redden at the sound of Dwight’s laughter while he replayed the words he’d just yelled back over to himself… But then, he’d started laughing, too. He laughed so hard that his ribs and sides hurt… He laughed so hard that his bladder couldn’t put up with the new strain it was under, and he’d gushed in an uncontrollable burst, not even noticing he was finally going until he heard it spatter against the rim of the toilet. His laughter had transformed into a euphoric cry of relief as he'd corrected his aim and continued to drain himself.
After that event, Dwight had attempted a few times to make Kenneth laugh until he peed, but after an incident that had ended with Kenneth rolling on the forest floor in hysterics before realizing he was peeing all over himself, they’d never used that method again. Nor did they speak of it.
A new location did sound to Dwight like an understandable reason Kenneth would be struggling again. He followed Kenneth back into the restroom and began their usual routine. Now that Dwight was there, making Kenneth feel safe and secure, relief came quickly. “Ahhhhh…. God, that’s better….” As Kenneth’s moan met his ears, Dwight thought about how, for someone that was so ridiculously shy about urinating, he sure got awfully noisy when he finally actually went…
When Kenneth peed, he truly lost all control of himself; Almost the same thing that happened to him when he got angry, he was unable to restrain his mouth and the things that came out of it. Dwight had to admit that he kind of liked the noises Kenneth made when he relieved his bladder; They were just so primal, so filled with emotion and so, so unbelievably intense. He thought he’d only heard sounds like that come out his friend while he was urinating, but a moment later he realized that there was one other time he’d heard Kenneth moan as though his bloodstream was being pumped full of mana from Heaven.
And that was during The Night They Didn’t Talk About. The night where, overcome with stress and a need to be near one another, to become parts of one another, they’d both allowed themselves to tear down every wall they had and just feel what they’d needed to feel. That night, Kenneth had moaned exactly like he was moaning now.
When that registered to Dwight, he felt heat rising up in his body, alongside an eruption of concern. That meant that Kenneth routinely got so desperate to take a piss that when he let it out, it felt as good to him as the things from that night had felt. Dwight had had a lot of really enjoyable pees in his life, he’d been ready to burst loads of times, and the relief afterwards was always great… But, it wasn’t ever THAT good. For the pleasure of relief to cause Kenneth that extreme a level of euphoria, the agony he felt while desperate must have been something Dwight couldn’t even fathom.
Kenneth shivered a little as he shook himself off, “Ahhhh,” he breathed out with a blush. “Th—Thank you… I needed that.”
Dwight nodded to his friend, tried to erase the worry his own thoughts and speculations had brought forth.
A few hours later, the two were ready to head to sleep. Kenneth was able to release his bladder without Dwight’s help before crawling into his bed. He laid there for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling, before turning onto his side to look at Dwight laying in his own bed. These beds were huge… Kenneth didn’t think he needed one all to himself… The door to their room was locked, and even if someone did come in, Winter was beginning to fall, and it was chilly. There was no harm in two friends cuddling up together to keep warm, was there?
“Dwight, I’m really, really cold,” Kenneth said.
Dwight turned around to look at him. Kenneth had a low tolerance for cold, he’d be shivering as early as October just as the temperature began to drop. “I guess it is a little cool in here,” he said. “Want to—“ Dwight started to ask, just as Kenneth opened his mouth to say “Can I—“
Dwight laughed, especially when Kenneth’s face began to color… ‘My God, he’s cute…’ Dwight thought, then immediately chastised himself. That was not something he was supposed to think. Even if it was true. Even if it was just an objective fact. Kenneth was adorable, even when he was angry and screaming outrageous things, he was still absolutely precious… He was like a pissed off kitten trying to look tough, and the result was just irresistibly lovable. “Heh, you want to stay with me tonight? Just to keep warm?”
“Just to keep warm,” Kenneth nodded, slipping from his own bed and into Dwight’s. He was out like a light not too long after, arms wrapped around Dwight’s body. Purely because it helped him stay warm, of course.
***
Kenneth had spent a good portion of his life desperate to piss. Holding too much in for too long was just a default state of being for him. Whenever he thought of major events in his life, he always recalled that he’d at least kind of needed to relieve himself at the time whatever it was took place. He was always holding it, often to the point of extreme desperate neediness.
So, when he thought to himself “I have never had to pee this badly before in my life!” he did not do so lightly, and he firmly believed himself to be correct; His bladder had never, ever been this full before. When he looked down, he could see it protruding to the point he looked like he had a beer-gut.
Not that it was particularly easy to look down. He was chained to a wall. His arms stuck into shackles behind his back, each leg cuffed to the wall, immobilized as far apart from each other as they could get. He couldn’t even cross them or squeeze his thighs or anything, his legs were spread-eagle. And, he definitely couldn’t hold himself, his hands were bound. And, of course, he couldn’t unzip himself and let go of his bladder.
He hadn’t gone in over a day, and ‘agony’ wasn’t even a strong enough word for what he was feeling.’Torture’ wasn’t, either. He didn’t think a word existed in any language to adequately describe the misery that had overtaken his body, that had made every nerve he had begin to scream for the release of death, that had made it impossible for him to keep a single thought in his head.
He knew he’d been captured by an enemy, though he couldn’t remember how exactly that had transpired. He knew they’d chained him up down here in what appeared to be a dungeon. He knew they’d cruelly left behind a bucket— One which Kenneth would be willing to kill in order to relieve himself into. He knew they’d, even more cruelly, set the bucket into the basin of a large sink with the faucet just slightly cranked so that Kenneth was forced to endure the sound of the steady dripping. He knew he would NOT give the enemies the satisfaction of coming back to find him drenched in his own urine.
He knew he had to pee worse than he’d ever had to pee before in his entire life. His eyes had been steadily leaking tears for what must have been hours, mirroring the maddening drips that continually splashed from the sink and into the bucket that Kenneth would have given his right leg to be able to drip into himself. Not that what he’d do into that bucket could ever be described as ‘dripping.’ He’d spray into it, he’d gush into it, he’d completely flood and desecrate it, drown it in twenty gallons of boiling hot piss. If he could just get out of these binds, if he could just get the bucket, if he could just… Go. Ohhh, he needed to GO!
It felt like his body was going to tear apart, like something was going to rip and claw its way through his core and split him wide open. He clenched his eyes shut so he could no longer see the taunting bucket, which he swore was going to sprout hands at any moment and beckon to him with a finger in a “come-hither” gesture. He wished he could somehow shut his ears against the constant drip, drip, drip of the faucet as well. To blot out the sound, he’d have to cover his ears though, and to do that he’d need hands. And if he had the use of his hands, he honestly thought he’d just unzip and unload his burden onto the floor directly in front of himself.
‘Do not wet yourself, Paulson…’ Kenneth ordered himself. ‘Hold it. Don’t let them see you as weak.’
‘Maybe they will be back soon,’ Kenneth thought hopefully. ‘Maybe they will—‘
‘No!’ Another part of his mind screamed. ‘Don’t even THINK about begging them for a toilet break! Make them think you can endure forever!’
Kenneth shuddered into the wall he was imprisoned against as he realized the full reality of his situation. Even if his captors— Whoever they happened to be— decided to allow him to urinate, what were the odds that his BODY would also allow it? Even if the enemies chose mercy, Kenneth’s body NEVER would…
More tears fell as it settled in to him that he wasn’t just being held captive by his enemies, he was being held captive by HIMSELF as well…
As the tears carried on, he strained his muscles as tight as he could, but began to hear the steady hiss of urine pooling against the floor. He was going. The enemies would return soon and find him soaked, soiled and crying. They would see him for the weak, pathetic little creature he was. He choked out a sob, his chest heaving and hitching as pee pounded the ground below him.
After a moment, it registered that his clothing didn’t feel warm or heavy. He felt no actual dampness against his flesh. He also still felt the full brunt of his desperation, it wasn’t easing up at all, if anything it was getting worse… Humiliation and self-loathing stepped aside as confusion took center stage instead.
Kenneth’s eyes snapped open.
He was staring at the ceiling of the inn.
He hadn’t been captured.
He wasn’t in danger.
He still had to pee.
He still had to pee so, so bad.
He forced himself into a sitting position, instantly regretting it as his bladder crumpled and lurched inside of him, the teeniest spurt of pee seeping from it. He clamped his hands over his member as tightly as he could, grateful for the thin material of his pajama pants allowing him to get an extra firm grip. He drug himself from the bed, squeezing all the more as the impact of his feet hitting the floor made a short burst of liquid trickle from his tip.
He limped for the restroom door, moving as if he’d never actually had legs before and didn’t quite understand what they were for. He painfully yanked one hand away from his crotch to grip the doorknob—-
Click.
Locked.
It was only then that he registered the sound of spraying water. Panicked, he looked down and confirmed that it wasn’t originating from him. Dwight was just in the shower… Dwight took really, really long showers whenever he got the opportunity to do it somewhere that warm water was readily available…
Kenneth hoped the inn was out of hot water, but he doubted it. He began to pace in place just outside the door, the hissing blast of the shower causing his bladder to convulse with new frenzy, almost as violently as it had been doing in his nightmare. He just kept pacing, kept moving, lifting one foot and then the other, every part of his brain focused on one thing; Holding it.
But, he couldn’t. He couldn’t hold it. Liquid started to trickle into his pajama pants, flooding against his cupped hands. He inhaled sharply, inadvertently only placing even more pressure onto his bladder. His pee just kept spurting. Every few seconds, there would be more and more that he just couldn’t manage to keep inside himself.
He couldn’t do this! He couldn’t wet his pants right outside a restroom! He couldn’t let Dwight see that! He, once more, forced himself to move one hand off his dick, knocking loudly on the door. “Dwight!? I— I have to— I need—“
“Kenneth?” Dwight called back over the roar of the shower. “Are you okay?”
“U—Unlock the door!” Kenneth begged, hating the panic and neediness in his voice. Hating how very weak he sounded, memories of how he’d felt in his dream began to re-enter his mind. “I can’t— I have to pee! It’s— It’s bad, I can’t—“
Dwight knew that if Kenneth was begging, that meant he really couldn’t wait, so he rinsed off the remaining soap as quickly as he could, wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door. For a moment, Kenneth stood there and didn’t move, and Dwight worried that he hadn’t been fast enough after all, and that Kenneth was having an accident, but now that the shower was off he didn’t hear any more splashing…
Kenneth had momentarily forgotten what he was actually in such a huge rush for. Dwight’s bare chest, still dripping with water lazily gliding down it, was just so… Firm and… And sturdy… And— Kenneth stopped staring when he felt a stray thread of urine trickle down his leg, he dashed in front of the toilet, still jumping in place as he tried to get the button of his pajama bottoms apart, but his hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t get a grip on it. “Nnnh!” he whimpered, electing instead to just yank his pants down his legs.
Just in time, too. The instant the fabric was out of the line of fire, piss was spattering into the bowl in front of him. “Ahhhhhhhhhh….” He exhaled, arms hanging limply at his sides.
Dwight blinked at him for a few seconds. That was… Way more than Kenneth was usually willing to expose, even when it was just the two of them! He understood his decision was probably just because of the heat of the moment, his need had overpowered his sense of reason of shame, but it was still just… Weird to see Kenneth peeing with his pants down so far, with his… backside exposed like that… Kenneth hadn’t even done that when he was little and it would have been more expected.
Dwight knew he shouldn’t look at his friend’s exposed body, but it was hard not to… It was even harder not to look at the way his lithe, pale legs were quivering beneath him as he continued to gush. Dwight then realized the position of Kenneth’s hands— “Uh, Kenneth… I know that that probably feels really good, but remember to aim still, okay?”
Kenneth blushed as he realized he’d been peeing handsfree and had gotten quite a bit on the rim of the bowl because of it. He just… Hadn’t been thinking. He couldn’t have been thinking. The relief had short-circuited his brain too much. He took hold of his member so he could actually direct his stream properly.
After he’d been peeing for about a minute, and the horrific, frenzied edge of his need had long since faded away, he realized how exposed he actually was; How much of his body Dwight could see. But, to his bafflement, he didn’t think he was really all that bothered about it. Dwight was mostly naked right now too… They’d both shown one another more skin this morning than they’d expected to…
Kenneth shivered violently as his faucet finally tapered off. He pulled his pants back up and wiped off the rim from where he’d missed. Dwight didn’t say anything to him about how much clothing he’d removed while he’d relieved himself, he knew doing so would only upset his friend.
He just wished that there was a way to tell Kenneth that he had a really, really nice pair of legs without having to bring that up. |
Civilians and guards had separate facilities at the colosseum. It was considered improper for a guard to be seen in uniform using the same restroom as everyday people. This rule was strictly adhered to while in the colosseum, though that wasn’t easy. There were several civilian restrooms, all easy to locate when a person was desperate to unload their bladder, but there was only one restroom for guards. This restroom was tucked away and out of sight, since The Leader preferred that everyone saw his guards as super-humans that did not have needs to fulfill.
The exact place it was hidden was underneath the stage where The Leader gave his speeches. It was meant to look more like a supply space, or something of top-secret importance that only guards could access. The fact that only one toilet was available to guards meant that many of them would suffer a bit of desperation when attending a speech.
The fact that the only toilet available to guards was situated directly beneath a man speaking loudly and clearly into a microphone to the cheers of tons of people, meant that Kenneth would suffer more than just “a bit” of desperation when attending a speech. The speeches could last for hours, and the activity at the colosseum that followed could last longer still, and Kenneth just could. Not. Go.
He’d try, of course. Eventually, once his need reached a fevered pitch, he’d have to force himself to at least try, but it was completely impossible. It was not very relaxing to have someone shouting directly above your head. It was not very relaxing to be bombarded with cheers and shouts. It was not very relaxing to know that you’d been standing at the only toilet tons and tons of people needed to use for a long time, and that it was a guarantee someone was getting impatient and annoyed with you. It was a total maelstrom of insurmountable obstacles for Kenneth’s nervous, yet very full bladder.
So, Kenneth could do nothing. Nothing, that was, except force himself to hold it in until he could leave the colosseum, make it back to the inn, and at last succumb to bliss as he finally emptied out…
Before leaving for the speech, Kenneth stood at the toilet for several minutes, trying to make certain he’d squeezed out every last drop from his bladder. He was pretty sure he was fully drained, but still didn’t want to zip up yet. Several minutes later he was able to force out one more tiny pulse of droplets, just three or four drips really, but enough to make him feel a little more confident that his bladder had given all that it had to give.
“Are you ready to go yet, idiots?” Bryce called, knocking on the door to Kenneth and Dwight’s room. Kenneth zipped himself up finally and left the restroom. He and Dwight followed Bryce out of the inn and towards the colosseum. After a while, Bryce paused in front of a shop. “This store has a single stall toilet,” he informed. “Paulson, go.”
Kenneth gave him a perplexed look, “Bryce, I—“
“Go,” Bryce repeated. “Now. I know you’re a completely idiotic waste of skin, that’s why you need me to keep you from making the kinds of horrendous decisions you normally do.”
“I make good decisio—“
“Then GO,” Bryce snapped. “That is an order! Smith, assist him!”
“Bryce,” Dwight said. “I know you’re trying to help out, but you’re making him uncomfor—“
“Assist him AT ONCE,” Bryce barked.
Kenneth felt his face flaming as he and Dwight entered the shop and made their way to the restroom in the back. Kenneth locked the door behind them. Checked two— No, three!— times that it was actually locked, then unzipped. Dwight stroked up and down Kenneth’s arms; “He really IS trying to help, Kenneth,” he said.
“Well he’s BAD at it,” Kenneth said.
“…Yes, he is,” Dwight agreed. “But, his heart’s at least in the right place now, that’s got to count for something.”
Kenneth sighed, he rubbed a palm beneath his navel, trying to get his flow going, trying to forget how angry Father got with him if he peed when it hadn’t been a true emergency. “It still FEELS like he’s teasing me, though.”
“I know,” Dwight said softly, rubbing a circle into Kenneth’s back. “He does care about you though, and I know that deep down, you care about him too.”
“I hate him,” Kenneth corrected. “He’s a dick, he yells all the time, he’s always insulting me, he’s full of himself, and—“
“So, you hate him because he’s too much like you?” Dwight gathered. “You know that’s the only reason you two fight all the time, right? You’re just too similar.”
“I am nothing like Bryce,” Kenneth insisted. “And I don’t care about him, and he doesn’t care about me. I would gladly feed him to an alligator at the first opportunity.”
Dwight sighed, continuing to rub, “I know that there’s something inside both of you that really does care,” he said. “You guys have way too much fun messing with each other to not feel at least a little warmth for one another…”
“I—“ Kenneth’s next protestation was interrupted by his bladder finally giving out, pee trickling into the bowl. He was a little alarmed by how much he’d had in his bladder, it could not have been more than one hour since they’d left the inn, and already he’d refilled enough to release a decently long, steady stream… It was a good thing he was letting a little extra out here, maybe he’d have a better chance of making it through the day in relative comfort now. Bryce had been right to tell him to go.
Not that he’d ever say as much.
Instead, he simply thanked Dwight, washed up, and returned to the street, where he didn’t say one word to Bryce. Bryce, however, did open his mouth; “Did it work?” he asked. “You’re not hurting? You don’t feel—“
“It worked,” Kenneth said tersely.
“Oh, that’s good,” Bryce said. He scoffed and cleared his throat. “What did I do to get stuck with someone that needs special accommodations for pissing? How ridiculous!”
Kenneth scowled, “I can’t help i—“
“I know,” Bryce interrupted. “I— You’re really okay?”
“YES.”
Dwight shook his head as he watched their exchange. Bryce going back and forth between ‘concerned’ and ‘taunting’ like a light switch being flicked on and off over and over was giving Dwight a little whiplash.
By the time they arrived at the colosseum, Bryce was really wishing he’d peed at the shop as well. He’d just been so focused on helping to ensure Kenneth wouldn’t have to… feel…THAT that his own needs had slipped his mind.
Not that he’d admit to such a thing.
Because he didn’t care about Kenneth, really. Not at all.
Once they were inside, Bryce lingered longingly as they passed by one of the civilian restrooms. He wished so much he could just run in there and unload his burden, but he was in uniform. It wouldn’t be proper. He’d arrive at the restroom he was allowed to use soon enough. His bladder throbbed with anticipation.
The guards were to sit in the first few rows in front of the stage. After instructing Kenneth and Dwight to sit there and stay quiet, Bryce made his way to the stage and the door located beneath it. He gave the door a tug, only to find it locked. He grimaced. It was not permitted for guards to wait outside the door to the restroom in case civilians saw and figured out that it WAS a restroom and that, conversely, the guards were not infallible and did in fact have needs.
Bryce definitely had needs. He had a very, very, very urgent need. One that needed to be satiated and tended to immediately. He knocked once on the door, and upon receiving no response, winced and returned to his seat. His toes began to tap against the ground within seconds of sitting down, and his eyes remained fixed on the door to the restroom, eagerly anticipating the moment it would open.
He told himself to relax. He was strong. He was healthy. He was a high ranking guard that commanded respect and obedience. He could handle a need to pee for a few more minutes. This wasn’t like… Uh… This wasn’t like the time on the train, or the evening in The Leader's pantry. He wasn’t that desperate. He was in control.
A moment later, the door opened and a man stepped out. Bryce scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pangs of need that thrummed through his middle at the sudden movement. Just a couple more minutes… Just a couple more minutes and he’d be empty and he wouldn’t have to worry anymore.
He strode quickly to the restroom and locked himself inside. His bladder gave a sudden lurch at the sight of the toilet. and he had to pause for a moment to cross his ankles and adjust himself a little. Now that he was so close to peeing, he was all the more aware of just how badly he needed to do it.
As he made it the last few feet towards the toilet, his hands worked at his belt. After it parted, he made quick work of his buttons and gripped his zipper. His muscles already began to loosen in anticipation, and he had to squeeze his thighs together to keep from dribbling a few seconds too early.
He gave the zipper a pull, and—
It didn’t move.
At all.
Frowning, he yanked harder.
Nothing.
It was like he was trying to drag it through a huge glob of superglue, syrup, molasses and chewing gum…
Bryce really liked chewing gum; He had a problem with grinding his teeth when he was angry or nervous and gum helped with that. Had he… somehow actually gotten some on his zipper? He wasn’t sure how he’d even manage to DO that, so probably not. He peered down to check, and that didn’t seem to be the case.
He couldn’t see any reason why his zipper should be so uncooperative. But, try as he might, he just couldn’t get it to lower. He started to sway in place. Standing in front of a toilet with a full bladder and not being able to use it was like putting a huge plate of bacon and sausages in front of a dog whose mouth was tied shut by a muzzle. It was cruel torture.
He spun around so he was no longer staring at the thing that he SHOULD have already started pumping full of his piss. He gripped his zipper one more time and pulled as hard as he could. It didn’t budge even the tiniest bit. His pants suddenly felt ridiculously tight and confining. The waistband suddenly pinched his bladder in the most vicious way. With his belt and buttons out of the way, Bryce could see the little curved bump of tension that made up his full bladder.
This was ridiculous! His frustration grew as he continued to battle with his stubborn zipper. It was like God was mocking him. He’d held it in and made it to the toilet in time, but now he was gonna piss his pants anyway because he couldn’t just get them to come off! “Come on!” he moaned quietly. “Come on, you stupid thing! I have to go!”
The zipper did not care about his pleas, and instead chose to make certain that his cock remained confined and unable to spray forth the liquid Bryce was really starting to struggle to contain. He gave up on the zipper, and gripped onto his waistband. He’d just push his pants all the way down instead. But, the uniform pants were so tight. He couldn’t get them to go far enough down his hips to free his cock. He kept pushing, kept fighting, every few seconds he’d wind his legs together, cross them back and forth, palm his crotch as particularly strong spasms assailed his body.
Then, he heard The Leader begin to speak. He heard his voice booming, and the riotous applause of the audience. And he was in here, doing battle with his pants, instead of out there listening like he was SUPPOSED to. Flinching, he did his buttons back up. His hands stilled over his belt. He really, really didn’t want to put it back together. But, he imagined The Leader noticing him in the audience, noticing that his belt wasn’t fixed, noticing that he was out of uniform. The Leader would see it only as a sign of great disrespect, not as a sign that Bryce needed to pee bad enough that the whites of his eyes were turning yellow…
He sucked in a breath, tried to suck in his bladder along with it, and fixed his belt. Instantly, he felt it dig into him, he felt it squeeze, he felt it pummel his poor bladder, trying to force all the urine inside of it out through Bryce’s straining pipes.
He held himself for a moment longer, knowing that he couldn’t hobble back to his seat with his hands between his legs in front of The Leader and the huge crowd. Gingerly, he released his hold on his dick, and exited the room.
Walking back to his seat was a challenge. Each time one of his boots struck the ground below him, he’d feel his bladder being jiggled around like gelatin on a cold plate. Twice, he felt a droplet begin to bead at his tip. Twice, he felt it soak into the front of his boxers. Twice, he felt himself burning with the shame and annoyance of it all.
He at last arrived back at his seat beside Kenneth and Dwight. Since they weren’t in the very first row and there was someone in front of him, Bryce felt he had enough privacy to resume squeezing himself. As soon as his hands had cupped themselves around his opening, relief settled over his shoulders. His hands felt like a nice, sturdy dam that would keep the flood at bay as long as necessary. He actually sighed a little. “Ahh…”
Kenneth stopped looking at The Leader and turned to his side when he heard Bryce exhale. He noticed immediately where Bryce’s hands were. His first instinct was to laugh, naturally. But, when he realized Bryce had just come BACK from the toilet with what was obviously an un-emptied bladder, the giggles died in his throat. Bryce wasn’t… Having ‘that’ again, was he?
Kenneth thought Bryce deserved many terrible things. Bryce deserved to stub every one of his toes in a single day. Bryce deserved to find cockroaches in his bed. Bryce deserved for both sides of his pillow to forever be warm. But, not even Bryce deserved the intense, nonstop torment of Paruresis. “Bryce?” Kenneth asked, trying to inject a tenderness into his voice that he rarely used with anybody that wasn’t named ‘Dwight’. “Are you okay?”
Embarrassment swept through Bryce’s body like a hurricane— And, oh, he should NOT have thought about something so watery. “O—Of course I’m okay,” he insisted, yet failed to move his hands away from his groin.
“I can… I can help you again,” Kenneth offered. “You go in first, and I’ll go in a few minutes later so it doesn’t look like we’re going in there together.”
“I don’t need your help,” Bryce said, irritation flooding from him in waves. If only he could allow something else to flood from him in waves…
“Would you rather Dwight do it?” Kenneth asked. “He’s better at it than I am.”
“No, I do not need help making myself piss,” Bryce scowled. It wasn’t a lie. He knew he could piss. He knew that for a fact because he’d just had a pretty massive leak a couple seconds ago. His body wasn’t locked up, just his clothing. He squeezed himself harder, pressed his legs together, tapped his feet.
What was he gonna do!? The only thing he could think to try would be to CUT his pants off of his body, but he hadn’t brought any other pants to this; Something that was likely to become a problem whether he cut them off or not… He really didn’t think he could wait until he got all the way back to the inn and could slice himself free. He didn’t think he could make it to a shop that sold pants he could put on after he’d destroyed these. He didn’t think he could make it to the end of the speech. He’d have an accident for sure, he WAS having an accident NOW. His dribbles and leaks had failed to slow down, and his heart was pounding out of control.
He couldn’t do this! He couldn’t soak his uniform in front of all these people. He couldn’t soil himself when The Leader was RIGHT THERE. He pictured piss erupting from his tip with such a violent, gushing hiss that it was loud enough to make The Leader fall silent. Everyone here would wonder why he’d stopped talking, then they’d notice the splattering sounds. Then, they’d notice they were emitting from Bryce, that he was pissing himself.
He couldn’t… He couldn’t do this!
“Paulson!” Bryce barked in a quiet, yet gruff, tone. “I demand your assistance.”
Kenneth nodded. He blushed when he realized that Bryce had just asked him for help in much the same way HE always asked Dwight for help… He didn’t want to admit that Dwight was right; He didn’t want to admit he and Bryce could possibly have anything in common with each other.
“Okay, you go over there first,” Kenneth said. “I’ll be there in a couple minutes. Just hold on until then, alright? But, you can try to go before I get there, of course.”
Bryce shakily stood. He couldn’t move his hands this time. And he couldn’t walk upright. He was almost totally doubled over, hands gripping firmly between his pinched together legs. Anyone looking at him would know he was bursting to piss. Hopefully they were all just focused on The Leader instead.
He made it to the restroom and stopped himself from locking the door. Kenneth needed to come in here, after all. He faced away from the toilet as he performed a very elaborate dance in his spot. His knees knocked together, his toes tapped, his hands pressed down for all they were worth. “I can’t hold it…” he whimpered. “I can’t hold it, I can’t hold it…”
Remembering how Kenneth had told him to ‘try’, he did exactly that. He TRIED to get his zipper to come down one more time, but to no avail. He didn’t want to consider what he’d do if Kenneth failed to get it apart as well. He’d pee himself. Completely. He’d be utterly drenched and humiliated in front of the largest crowd he’d ever seen.
The door opened a couple minutes later. “Okay, Bryce,” Kenneth said. “It is because you can hear The Leader yelling, isn’t it? That would make anybody nervo—“
“No!” Bryce squeaked. “That’s not— I’m not nervous.”
Kenneth rolled his eyes. “Bryce, I can’t help you if you keep—“
“My zipper is stuck!” Bryce cried out. “I can’t get my freaking ‘thing’ loose!”
A smile spread Kenneth’s lips then. Now that he knew Bryce wasn’t suffering the abysmal torture of a shy bladder, he couldn’t help but see the humor. “Eheheh, that’s it?” he asked.
“Yessssss!” Bryce hissed. “I order you to fix it! If I have an accident, I’ll— I’ll make you… I’ll make you… Uh…”
Kenneth snorted as he got onto his knees to try and work Bryce’s zipper. “Wow, you’re so desperate you can’t even think of mean things to say anymore, can you?”
Bryce stepped in place and stared up at the ceiling as his teeth ground against each other. “You… You are a…. Stupid…”
Kenneth groaned, “Do you want me to help you or not, jackass?”
“Please help!”
“Okay,” Kenneth said. “Move your hands.”
“I can’t!” Bryce insisted. “If I let go, I’ll—“
“I can’t get to your zipper if your hands are in the way.”
Bryce reluctantly forced his hands away from his dick. When Kenneth unclasped his belt, the relief of that small bit of extra pressure being removed made Bryce moan. “Ohhh…”
Kenneth flinched and pulled his hands back towards himself. “Ack! You’re not… Are you going?”
“No!” Bryce snapped, embarrassment heating his face. “It’s just… It feels good to not have the belt on anymore…”
Kenneth reluctantly went back to helping out. He was relieved when he started to take apart Bryce’s buttons and didn’t feel any warm wetness beneath his fingertips. Finally, he could reach Bryce’s zipper, and he could tell right away what the issue was. Some of the surrounding fabric had become bunched up in it. Kenneth gripped some of the caught fabric and tried to tug it free, when Bryce made a pained, panicked sounding shriek that Kenneth had never heard come out of his mouth before.
Then, Bryce’s hands were back to gripping his cock.
Kenneth jolted back, “I can’t fix it if you—“
“You… You squeezed me, and I… I can’t hold it if you squeeze me.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Kenneth said. But, Kenneth was pretty certain that anything he did to dislodge Bryce’s zipper could easily result in him inadvertently putting extra pressure onto his bladder as well. Kenneth hadn’t even thought he’d pushed down very hard, at most he’d brushed a knuckle over Bryce’s midsection. If THAT had been enough to make him lose a spurt…
Kenneth imagined Bryce soaking himself where he stood before Kenneth could fix his zipper for him. The Leader would most definitely NOT be pleased if the floor in here was soiled. “Um… Bryce, can you maybe stand over the toilet while I do this? So that if you… So that we don’t have to worry about the floor if stuff goes wrong?”
Bryce was grateful that Kenneth had found it in himself to not say the words ‘if you have an accident’. He hadn’t expected Kenneth to care at all about protecting his pride. He did as Kenneth said, and hovered over the toilet bowl with his legs slightly parted. This position, mixed with the knowledge that there was a toilet directly beneath him, made it even harder to hold out and he felt dribbles spurt from his tip every second or two.
Kenneth went back to tugging the fabric out of the way of the zipper. Now that he knew what the issue was and what he needed to do, it at least was coming away quickly. Bryce kept whimpering, and Kenneth could both hear urine hissing from him and feel his crotch dampening beneath the zipper. After he’d noticed the slick warmth accumulating, Kenneth registered exactly which part of Bryce’s body his hands were making contact with and bit his lip as heat surged through him. Damn, this was really awkward…
Finally, Kenneth had removed the snag and gave the zipper a yank, it glided smoothly downwards just as it was supposed to. When the sound of it parting reached Bryce’s ears, his body worked on autopilot, he shoved his pants down and allowed himself to drop onto the toilet beneath him. He was pissing like a firehose before his ass had even hit the seat.
PSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
His ocean sprayed against the bowl with an absolutely torrential hiss. “Ahhhhhhh….” His eyes started to droop closed as his head tipped backwards and he slumped against the toilet tank. He could feel his legs going weak, felt them shuddering and tingling. If he hadn’t been sitting down, he may have actually fallen over. Shivers coursed through his entire body. For a moment, he forgot about everything that wasn’t related to how amazing it felt to just… Not have to fight anything anymore, to just let his body do what it had to do and expel all the liquid that had been torturing him for so long.
Then he heard Kenneth snort.
Bryce’s eyes cracked open, “You’re still here?!” Kenneth at least had the decency to turn and face the other direction once Bryce had noticed him, but still…
“I thought you wouldn’t want me to open the door until you were done,” Kenneth said. “Heheh, you pee sitting down?”
“Sh—Shut up! Everyone does sometimes,” Bryce snapped over the sound of his still gushing torrent. Christ… How long could he possibly pee for? It felt like it wasn’t ever gonna end!
“I never do,” Kenneth shrugged.
“What?” Bryce asked. “What if it’s the middle of the night and it’s dark?”
“Nope.”
“What about all the times you’ve injured your legs and need help standing at all?”
“Not then, either,” Kenneth said. “Dwight comes with me so I can lean against him.”
Before Bryce could respond, he had to moan again as another wave of relief overtook him. “Why?”
Kenneth mumbled something inaudible.
“What?” Bryce asked. It finally felt like his stream was winding down, the awful pressure inside of him was being replaced by a pleasant, if slightly tender, emptiness.
“My… The shyness is a LOT worse if I sit down,” Kenneth said. “It’s just… completely impossible for me to get myself to actually go that way. I have to take off too much, it makes me feel more exposed. And, if I’m sitting down, I’m more vulnerable to being attacked, and stuff. I can’t defend myself.”
Bryce reached down to shake himself off, “Why would you be attacked while—“ he stopped abruptly, remembering that for a decent chunk of Kenneth’s life, being attacked while attempting to pee was a very common occurrence. Bryce stood and pulled his pants back up. He was a little reluctant to zip them however, nervous that it would get stuck once more. He did so anyway, as slowly and carefully as he could.
As he walked over to the sink, he winced at all the dampness he could feel between his thighs. He’d really lost an awful lot of his control before he’d been able to actually use that toilet… He checked himself over, there were some patches on the lower half of his uniform shirt that were definitely noticeably darker…
“Just go sit back down, by the time the speech is over it should be mostly dry,” Kenneth said.
“Are you sure?”
“Nope, but if it’s not, I’ll only make fun of you a little. I promise.” |
The speech went on for several hours, and afterward people stayed in the colosseum to socialize. For Kenneth, whom was now nursing a full bladder and had never enjoyed socializing with anyone that wasn’t Dwight, this was not at all enjoyable. But, Bryce wanted to stay and talk with guards from other parts of the country, to boast of his organizational skills, and of how well he ran things. All of these claims were greatly exaggerated, of course.
Kenneth wanted to just leave, stop off at that store again on the way back, release all the urine that was becoming annoying to hold back. But, he and Dwight were not permitted to leave without Bryce, so he had no choice but to stand near Bryce, trying to block out all the loud, annoying voices before they overwhelmed him. Dwight came to join him soon, and before long the two were talking.
Bryce grew annoyed by their constant chatter rather quickly. But, what annoyed him the most was how they were constantly finishing one another’s sentences, like they could read each other’s minds. It was obnoxious… How well they… Knew each other…
Bryce shook his head. He wasn’t going down that road again. He wasn’t jealous. He didn’t need what they had. He didn’t need a person who always knew what he wanted or needed without even needing to be told. He didn’t need a person that put his needs before their own and desired nothing more than to see him happy. He didn’t need it.
With those two, they always had someone. Every second of every day, they had each other. Bryce didn’t have anything like that, and he never had… He’d been picked on a lot in his school days, thanks in no small part to the huge, thick coke-bottle glasses he’d had to wear back then before he could afford a set that weren’t so ridiculous looking. He’d worked at one other job before he’d become a guard, and he’d mostly kept to himself there and focused on the tasks he was meant to complete. Everyone he worked with now just annoyed him.
He’d never had another person that was just… There. There when he needed them, there when he was hurt, there just to… be there. He would be lying to himself if he tried to pretend that his only reasons for being annoyed by Kenneth were his annoying, loud voice and propensity for practical jokes. He was also annoyed because Kenneth had something that Bryce didn’t; a best friend.
He tried to block out his subordinate’s voices and the unpleasant memories they’d brought forth for him, tried to return to the conversation he’d been having. But, before he could open his mouth, he was hit with another, even more unpleasant memory.
Karl was here.
Bryce hadn’t seen Karl since his school days, but he’d recognize that bastard anywhere. Karl was the worst human being Bryce had ever had the displeasure of knowing. Karl was like the human equivalent of an uneven table leg. From Bryce’s very first day of school, when he was just five years old, Karl had for some reason decided to make it his life’s purpose to make Bryce miserable.
As a child, Bryce hadn’t been able to tame his curly hair as well as he could now. It would look poofy and strange, and fly off in all directions, when paired with his thick glasses, this had made him look like a mad doctor from the cover of a sci-fi novel. In the beginning, all Karl did was make fun of Bryce’s physical appearance. Then, he’d start shoving him around, tripping him, stealing his school work and hiding it so that he’d get into trouble. Twice, he’d broken Bryce’s glasses in half and he’d needed to tape them back together again.
As they’d gotten older, the attacks became more physical in nature. Bryce had developed his fascination with pain at an early age after becoming all-too interested in certain parts of medieval history, but when he thought about ways to have fun with pain, the fantasies had always ended with the pain turning into cuddles and tender care before too long; a mixture of pain and pleasure, and something that would only happen when Bryce wanted it to, and with someone Bryce knew he could trust. When Karl beat Bryce up, there was none of that. It was just pain mixed with pain, and Bryce didn’t want it, and he certainly couldn’t trust Karl.
Bryce had tried convincing himself that he should like the beatings Karl dished out. His wildest fantasies always involved someone taking control of him and shoving him around, didn’t they? But, he couldn’t get Karl to stop when it was too much, he couldn’t tell Karl he didn’t like something and then have it end. He didn’t understand it all then, he didn’t understand why pain fantasies excited him, and why those fantasies never factored in when it came to Karl. As he got older, he came to realize that there was a line between consensual pain-play and just being assaulted, and what Karl did to him was assault and nothing less. Just because Bryce liked having someone be rough with him in certain contexts, that didn’t mean he had to accept actual abuse.
By the time Bryce graduated from school, he would flinch any time Karl so much as glanced at him. Bryce was ecstatic to leave school behind, content that he wouldn’t ever need to see Karl again.
Except, here Karl was. He’d become a guard too, apparently. But, evidently he was stationed in a different part of the country. Bryce immediately fought down a wave of nausea, swallowing uneasily. He spun around, grabbed Kenneth’s wrist and hauled him off towards the exit. Dwight followed after them.
“What are you doing?” Kenneth asked, struggling to keep up with Bryce’s pace.
“I can tell that you need to go,” Bryce said quickly, seizing on the first excuse to come to mind. He would rather lay himself down in a lion’s den covered in steak sauce than admit to Kenneth that he’d once been the victim of bullying, that he still feared his former bully so completely that he couldn’t handle being in the same location as him. “You were doing that thing with your hands.”
Kenneth reddened, plucking his pinky from his mouth, “What thing with my hands?”
“You chew on your fingers whenever you need to urinate,” Bryce said.
“…I do?” Kenneth asked, looking down at his hands.
“Yes,” Dwight said. “Have you seriously never realized that?”
“I…haven’t,” Kenneth admitted. “Do I really do it that frequently?”
“Basically every time you have to pee,” Dwight shrugged. “You’ve done that since we were little.”
Kenneth blushed crimson. “That long?”
“That long,” Dwight confirmed.
While Kenneth and Dwight reminisced, Bryce tried again to blot them out. He knew Kenneth’s childhood was nothing to feel envious over. Even with as harsh as Bryce was on the little twerp, the one line he never crossed was making any mention of his Father. But, even with as miserable as his upbringing had been, Kenneth had always, ALWAYS had someone there to make it better…
Bryce had had his parents, and that was it. And while he loved his parents, he’d always yearned for a friend his own age. His parents were never there when Karl decided it was time to torment him again. Hell, Bryce’s clingy relationship with his parents, his admission in class that they were his best friends, had only stoked Karl’s cruelty even further. Pathetic, little, four-eyed Bryce, hiding behind Mommy and Daddy…
Bryce tried to shake the memories away. Seeing Karl again had just been too much. He had to get out of this place. Kenneth was nibbling his fingers again, so it was as good a reason as any. “Let’s go,” Bryce barked. “Paulson must be bursting by now.”
Kenneth pinched his knees inwards. “Must you be so loud?” he asked. It was true, Kenneth was starting to get very uncomfortable, but Bryce didn’t have to yell and call everyone’s attention towards the situation!
“Heh, what’s the matter?” Bryce tried to chuckle. He felt wires and springs coming off inside his head. What the Hell was wrong with him? Just seeing a man’s face shouldn’t have reduced him to such a mess! “D—Don’t like… Don’t you…” He started to fall quieter and quieter. He’d seen Karl come through the exit a few moments ago. “Let’s just leave,” he said.
Kenneth was confused. Bryce was being so weird all of the sudden. ‘Maybe Bryce really needs to go as well?’ he guessed. ‘He does not want to admit that is the real reason he is in such a rush?’ If that was the case, Kenneth wasn’t sure why he hadn’t gone again at the colosseum. Maybe the restroom was just always occupied?
“Yes,” Dwight nodded, and a moment later he confirmed Kenneth’s theory; “I never got to have a turn in the restroom today, I’m dying.”
So, that was it then, Kenneth decided. Bryce was acting weird because he really had to pee and didn’t want to admit it. That was all. They arrived at the shop not too long after, and when Kenneth realized relief was so close, his urgency seemed to double itself. It was like the instant his bladder recognized he was in a safe place where it could empty, it was already starting to loosen up. He pressed his heels together for a second before bolting inside. Dwight followed after him. He’d been hoping Kenneth would be willing to let him go first before doing the relaxation routine, but with as eager as Kenneth had seemed a second ago, it was apparent his friend needed to go a lot worse than he’d been letting on.
Dwight had found himself helping Kenneth relieve his bladder while his own was screeching for relief many times before. That was just another aspect of being Kenneth’s friend. It would be downright cruel to taunt Kenneth by peeing when he knew full well that he couldn’t go. Many times, while out on marches, when Dwight began to feel the urge and would ordinarily turn around and piss against the nearest bush that he saw, he would force himself not to if he’d noticed Kenneth was fidgeting. If Kenneth couldn’t pee, Dwight wouldn’t either. Not until his friend was comfortable again.
That wasn’t to say it was easy. Talking Kenneth down, reciting calming phrases, painting pictures of waterfalls with his words, all while he felt like a fifty pound watermelon was pressed up against his kidneys was not easy. It would make him dribble and leak, and whimper with need. But, he endured it for Kenneth. Because he would endure anything for Kenneth.
And he knew Kenneth did not do this to him intentionally. Kenneth could not help his problem. He could not help needing Dwight’s assistance with it. And, he never seemed to even notice that Dwight was bursting as well, as caught up as he was in his own misery.
As Dwight joined Kenneth in the restroom, he was dreading another five minute long session of coaxing his friend’s bladder into surrendering its contents, while his own was all too ready to do the same. But, to his surprise, Kenneth started peeing pretty quickly. It had only taken a few careful strokes around his back and a whispered promise that he was safe, and that was it. He was happily pouring away. Maybe because he’d peed in this location once before? That had made it easier the second time?
Now all Dwight had to deal with was the sound of Kenneth’s gushing stream. And that wasn’t easy, either. It felt like his pelvic muscles were being pinched and prodded at by an Olympic wrestler. His hands dropped down to cup over his crotch, and a few seconds later he pressed down as hard as he could, and—
Kenneth stepped over a little bit, “If you want to go now, that’s alright,” he said, with no interruption to his own release.
Dwight eagerly took him up on the offer, and was spraying the bowl just two seconds later. “Ahhhh… Thank you…” he murmured. This was confirming his earlier theory, that the second time Kenneth did something in regards to peeing, it became a little easier. They’d peed side by side once before following a train ride a few months ago, and now that they were doing it again Kenneth was less anxious about it. Maybe doing things enough times demystified them to his friend. Maybe this was only happening because Kenneth felt so comfortable and safe in Dwight’s presence. Either way, it made Dwight feel good.
The only thing that made him feel even better, however, was the relief flowing through his veins. Wow, he’d really needed this piss…
Outside the shop, Bryce nervously tapped his foot. He didn’t like knowing that he was in the same town as Karl. He wanted to get back to his room at the inn and lock the door, lay down in bed and try to calm himself down. Making matters worse, the anxiety was going straight to his bladder. He should go use the toilet once the idiots got back… But, Bryce didn’t know where Karl was. He’d seen him leave the colosseum, but had no idea which direction he’d been headed. What if Karl passed by this shop too? And, Bryce took so long to pee that they ended up running into each other?
Karl would say something. At the very least, he would say something. And Bryce just couldn’t handle that. He couldn’t handle hearing one more insult from that man’s mouth. He couldn’t handle his subordinates knowing that he hadn’t always been respected. He couldn’t handle any of it. So, he’d hold it. It wasn’t that far back to the inn, anyway. He could go there.
Kenneth and Dwight returned a minute later, and Bryce barked at them to get moving. “You have wasted enough of my time already!” he threw in for good measure.
Dwight sighed, “Don’t you have to go?”
“No,” Bryce said. “I don’t have a tiny bladder like y—“
“Bryce, a few hours ago you begged me to unzip your pants for you because you were about to piss everywhere,” Kenneth reminded.
Bryce cringed. Not just at the reminder of his latest humiliation, but at the fact that it had indeed been hours since it had taken place; It had been hours since he’d last drained his bladder. And it was still wobbly and sore after already being stretched to its limit once today. He really, really wanted to go in the store. Just in case. Even if he was confident he could make it back to the inn, he still wished he could go if only to make the walk a little more comfortable.
But, he couldn’t. He needed to be in his room. His nice, safe, Karl-free room.
“Get moving!” Bryce commanded.
And they did. But, Kenneth was still confused. If Bryce didn’t have to pee, then what was he rushing around for? Unless Bryce was lying? Kenneth spoke as softly as he could manage. It still wasn’t particularly quiet, but it was a bit more discreet than his usual shouts were. “Are you having trouble going again?”
“No,” Bryce hissed. “I just want to get back inside. I’m tired, okay?”
Kenneth shrugged. That made sense, he supposed. It would explain why he was so cranky, anyway.
Now that they were moving again, Bryce felt both better and worse. Better because this was surely putting more distance between himself and Karl, and worse because the movement was jostling his exhausted bladder around, making it sway back and forth inside him like a metronome. There were pangs coming every few steps, and his muscles were just so worn out that they wanted nothing more than to cede and allow the liquid through.
By the time they reached the inn, Bryce felt like he was holding in at least one whole gallon of pee. He was shifting his hips from side to side as he opened the door and entered. The inn was small, all the rooms were on the second floor, which could be reached either by climbing the stairs, or riding the small elevator up. Kenneth and Dwight immediately headed for the stairs, but Bryce stopped cold at the sight of them.
“Bryce?” Kenneth asked. “You coming?”
“I… I…” Bryce stammered. “I want to take the elevator,” he said. He couldn’t climb stairs. Not like this. The jolt of raising his legs up, one right after the other, would clobber his bladder with such an intense, all-consuming agony, and he just couldn’t do it.
“Okay,” Kenneth shrugged. “We’ll be waiting if you need us, I guess.”
Once they were gone, Bryce shuffled for the elevator. He was eager to just get inside it. It would be nice and private, granting him the opportunity to squeeze the living daylights out of his cock. He just needed to handle the pulsing desperation a little while longer. Just a little while longer…
He dashed into the elevator, already clutching himself on his way in. The relief the action brought him was monumental. He jabbed the ‘up’ button, content in the knowledge that he’d done it. He’d escaped from Karl, he’d held it in through the long walk, and now he was finally, finally going to be able to pee…
As the doors began to close, a foot jammed itself between them to force them open once more. And Bryce learned that he’d been wrong about one of his assumptions; He had not escaped Karl.
At the sight of his old tormentor, Bryce stilled the jiggling he hadn’t even realized he’d been doing. He forced his hand away from his dick, forced himself to stare straight ahead. Maybe Karl wouldn’t recognize him if he kept quiet and didn’t look at him?
“…Bryce?” Karl asked.
Bryce turned away, trying to shield himself. “Wh—Who?” he stammered. The terror he felt in that moment was swarming through his body, it made his hair stand on end, it made his heart pound, it made his bladder quiver and shudder so much that a pulse of piss shot out of it and into his clothes.
“You are. You’re Bryce, aren’t you? Wow, you’ve barely changed at all. Still with that ridiculous, curly hair and those hideous spectacles.”
Bryce didn’t say a word. What he wanted to say was “I need them to see, you fucking jackass. How else am I supposed to be able to tell how freaking ugly you are?” But, he didn’t. His voice had fled from him. It hurt just to breathe. Every inhale of oxygen was adding to the strain in his bladder. He wished the elevator would move faster. He had to get out of here. He couldn’t be in this enclosed space with Karl. He couldn’t do it.
“I’ll bet you still think you’re God’s gift to the planet too, don’t you?” Karl asked. “Still carry yourself with that high and mighty attitude, when everyone knows you’re just a—“
The elevator suddenly made a strange, creaking sound. Then it stopped moving.
And Bryce’s hands went back between his legs. No, please… It couldn’t be stuck! Please, anything but this! Anything but being trapped in a broken elevator next to Karl, with a bladder so full it felt like he could fill an entire Olympic swimming pool. Please… Please…
“Looks like we’re stuck,” Karl stated the obvious.
Bryce still didn’t say a word. He wanted to shuffle for the emergency button— Because, good Lord was he ever having an emergency!— But, Karl was in front of the buttons, and Bryce couldn’t let go of his dick without spurting. He just kept standing there, fidgeting in the corner, his body turned away from Karl.
“Have you gotten any tougher over the years?” Karl asked, and even without looking, Bryce knew he was smirking. “Or, are you still going to burst into tears if I punch you?”
Bryce didn’t think he’d burst into tears anymore, but any physical contact would definitely cause him to burst into SOMETHING. “Just hit the emergency button,” he pleaded softly.
“Oh, right,” Karl said, pressing it. “Still need everyone to do things for you, I see. Do Mommy and Daddy still tie your shoes for you, too?”
Bryce squeezed his eyes shut. ‘Don’t listen to him,’ he told himself. ‘Just focus on holding it. That’s all you have to do. Just hold it.’ He’d been slower to learn how to tie his shoes, but that was just because no one had figured out that the prescription for his glasses needed to be updated. The only reason he couldn’t tie his shoes was the fact that they looked like featureless blobs to him and he couldn’t tell what he was doing. Not that that had stopped the mockery when he’d needed to ask for help.
“What’s the matter?” Karl asked. “Don’t you want to catch up with old friends?”
“Please, just leave me alone?” Bryce asked. He was a squirming, twitching mess by that point. He bucked his hips against his clenched palms, trying to put as much pressure onto his opening as he could. His feet were in constant, urgent motion, knees knocking together as he worried at his lip. He had to go so badly. He’d never felt it like this before. He’d never felt so needy, so out of control, with no way to put a stop to it.
He wanted to unzip himself and just release the burden onto the ground. It would be the innkeeper’s fault for installing a broken elevator anyway. He couldn’t do it in front of Karl though. He’d had enough pee related mishaps in Karl’s presence to last him a lifetime.
Karl would camp out in the restroom of the schoolhouse during recess, a point in the day where young Bryce always needed to go badly after a morning filled with lessons and work. Every day, Bryce would rush in and try to handle his need, but Karl would insist he had to pay the ‘fee’ first. The ‘fee’ could be anything. It could be whatever pocket change Bryce happened to have with him. It could be any sweets Bryce had managed to get his hands on. If Bryce didn’t have anything Karl wanted, then the fee was to endure a physical humiliation, like having the skin on his arm twisted, or being pinned down and having his stomach slapped.
If Karl was satisfied with simply stealing from Bryce, then he’d take a long time counting out the change, or eating the sweets, all while talking about waterfalls and flicking on the sink. Running water had an intense effect on Bryce. Even if he hadn’t already needed to pee, if he heard enough splashing, trickling liquid his bladder would feel full to overflowing. If it rained during the night, he would be up several times to pee. He could rarely hold it in in the shower and had to just let it go down the drain.
And when Karl turned the sink’s faucet on when Bryce was already on the verge of an accident, it was like he was turning Bryce’s faucet on as well. Pee would flow down his legs, leaving him standing there and crying, so upset that he hadn’t just been allowed to use the toilet even though he’d given Karl what he’d wanted. On the rare occasions Bryce held it in until Karl grew bored and let him go, he would still have a noticeable wet spot on his pants for the rest of the day.
When Karl decided Bryce didn’t have anything worth taking, and instead should be held down and smacked, he just kept doing it until Bryce peed his pants. Bryce would always sob so hard when that happened. He didn’t understand why Karl had to be so mean to him. He’d never done anything to Karl, he’d never hurt him or said rude things to him. But, Karl still tormented him every chance he had.
Bryce had told the school teachers how mean Karl was, but since they never actually witnessed the incidents, they said they couldn’t do anything about it. Bryce had told his parents how mean Karl was, but since they were not at school with him, they didn’t have the power to make Karl stop. Once, Bryce’s parents had gone to Karl’s house to ask his parents to discipline Karl, to talk to him about how his treatment of Bryce was wrong. But, Karl’s parents hadn’t seemed to care, and the whole event had only made Karl more determined to pick on Bryce.
Most of the accidents were when Bryce was younger, but there was one big one that happened when he was a teenager. Karl had refused to let him use the toilet during break time yet again, and by that point Bryce could usually hold it through the school day and make it home, or at least to a store, before his bladder gave out. But, something went wrong that day. Maybe Bryce had drank more than usual, maybe his nerves had made him fill up a little faster, but either way a couple hours before school was supposed to end, he was well and truly bursting. There was no way he’d make it to the end of the day.
He begged the teacher to let him be excused, but she told him he should have gone during the break. He tried to explain that he’d tried, and that Karl hadn’t let him, but she didn’t want to hear excuses. So, he sat back down at his desk and held himself, praying that the next couple hours passed quickly. He was imagining himself just peeing into the bushes that were right outside the schoolhouse. If he made it to the end of the day, he still wouldn’t make it all the way home…
But, then he’d been called on to solve a Math problem on the chalkboard. He’d slowly and carefully crept to the front of the room, and begged the teacher one more time to please, please, PLEASE let him go pee because he couldn’t hold it anymore! But, she still refused, told him to just do the Math problem like he was supposed to.
It was an easy problem for him, at least. But, the instant he raised the chalk up to begin writing, he felt it. Liquid was streaming all down his legs. He’d lost control, and it wasn’t going to come back. Everyone in the room had laughed, but none did so louder than Karl. When Bryce turned back around, Karl had the most heinous, satisfied look on his face. He was proud that he’d caused Bryce to humiliate himself in front of everyone he knew.
Now, stuck in the elevator, Bryce would do anything to keep that sort of thing from happening again. But, he wasn’t confident that he could. He was dribbling. Even with as tight as he was holding himself, he was still dribbling. He eventually dropped down onto his knees, sitting on top of his feet. He always had an easier time holding it in that position. He wasn’t sure how he was going to stand back up again, but he felt at least a little bit more in control now.
But, his now obvious desperation could not escape Karl’s notice. “Oh, hey. Another thing that hasn’t changed. You still piss your pants.”
“I’m not— I’m…” Bryce stammered. “I’m holding it…”
“Are you?” Karl asked. “You look a little wet from here.”
Bryce panicked, was one of his leaks visible?! He looked down frantically, seeing no wet spots, but hearing Karl laugh.
“Look at you! You can’t even tell if you’ve gone or not! How can you say you’re toilet trained if you’re not even sure whether or not you’ve wet yourself?”
Bryce shuddered with need and anger. “Just be quiet, Karl. I’m not in the mood.” He tried to go still. He tried to remember how to breathe. Simply sucking air into his lungs was wrapping new, tight bands of pressure around his bladder. He felt like he was splitting apart, he felt like every space inside his body was full. Fuller than full. There was no room left inside of him anywhere. It had to come out. To him, it almost defied explanation that he was even still holding on.
The pressure and pain inside of him was like something that shouldn’t have even been within the realm of possibility. The torment took over his entire body. He felt the pressure everywhere. He felt the need everywhere. He felt it in his chest, in his throat, in all of his limbs. He felt it in the soles of his feet and in each of his toes. He felt it so, so strongly that it made tears prick at the backs of his eyes. Every nerve in his body was screeching in response to the intense crisis within his core.
‘You like pain,’ he told himself. ‘Pain is good.’ But, what he was feeling now wasn’t even pain anymore. It was something else entirely. It was something that felt inhuman, like something no person should ever feel unless they were about to die. He imagined what he’d do if he ever felt this level of hurt anywhere else for any other reason. He’d need to go to the hospital. He’d need to have doctors examine every part of his body, searching for what could possibly be causing so much mind-breaking agony. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d begun to whimper and moan very, very loudly.
“Awww, does Bryce need to go potty?” Karl teased. “I can’t believe this. I finally see you again after how many years? And you’re gonna piss yourself again? How often do you pee your pants? Do you need diapers?”
Bryce shook, he shivered. He clutched himself as tightly as he could, unable to stop another big wave of pee from flowing into his boxers. He couldn’t reply. His bladder had taken away his ability to speak. If he tried to force any words out, it would be too much. He’d pee. He writhed against his hands on the floor. His hips bucked against his palms, and he threw his head back as he moaned.
Karl must have found Bryce’s lack of a response funny, because he chuckled.
Then Karl took two steps to the left, and kicked Bryce right in the stomach.
Bryce shrieked as his body was overtaken by even more pressure, even more desperation, even more need. The kick had felt less like a kick, more like the stone of his bladder being struck by a humongous mallet. “Ahhhh! FUCK! DON’T!” Bryce exclaimed loudly and totally involuntarily, liquid surging downwards through his clenched, burning urethra.
“What? Did that hurt you?” Karl asked tauntingly.
Bryce gave a tiny, jerky nod. It had hurt. Everything hurt. He couldn’t feel anything anymore that wasn’t hurt. ‘Please…’ he begged silently. He wasn’t sure who he was begging. Maybe God Himself. ‘Please, just make the elevator move again. I can’t take it…’
“So, you really haven’t got any tougher,” Karl decided. “Surprised they even let you become a guard. You’re pathetic. Look at yourself. You’re acting like a three year old.”
Bryce felt his opening welling up like a fire hose with the nozzle plugged shut. The weight of his overflowing bladder was slamming itself against his sphincters, just a few tiny muscles trying their hardest to save him from total and complete humiliation. He crossed his legs around each other even tighter where he sat, he squeezed himself so hard that his dick hurt and his hands started to feel sore.
And then, it was over. He wasn’t merely wetting himself; he was flooding himself. He was peeing so hard, so violently, so forcefully that it actually hurt coming out. It was loud as well, the sound of it gushing out into his clothes was less like the typical ‘hiss’ of a pee stream, and more like the ferocious, angry hiss of a ticked off, feral cat. When it sloshed against the ground underneath where he was sitting, it did so with audible slaps and squelches against the hard flooring.
There was no relief. There was no silver lining. Even as he grew more and more aware that his situation couldn’t be salvaged, he continued to clutch himself, he continued to cross his legs, he continued to clench down harder and harder on his muscles, only succeeding in making them push out all the liquid even more strongly. His pee thundered through his soaked clothing, splattering all around him, creating a truly massive puddle.
He didn’t give up the fight until he realized there was nothing left inside him to fight against. He was emptied, his bladder bone-dry, but his clothes and the floor surrounding him absolutely sopping in liquid. Only when he finally noticed that he’d stopped peeing and no longer felt any urge to go, only then did he release his cock from his hands and untwist his shaking, drenched legs. He didn’t make any move to stand up, however.
He still couldn’t really breathe. He felt a horrible buzzing all throughout his body, heard a loud ringing noise in his ears that was only undercut by the ferocious pounding of his own heartbeat. He had never felt this way before. It was like being afraid, but multiplied times infinity, with a little bit of anger and sadness thrown in for good measure. Something was happening to him, something that he didn’t like, didn’t understand, and just wanted to have stop.
Then, he heard something else. Uproarious laughter. The same uproarious laughter he’d heard in the schoolhouse all those years ago. Karl was doubled over, cackling and pointing at Bryce. “Wow,” he said. “I thought that by THIS point in your life you would have finally learned how to keep your fucking pants dry! That was spectacular!”
Bryce wanted to shout at Karl. Bryce wanted to tell Karl he was a moron. Bryce wanted to call Karl every last insult he’d ever thought of. But, Bryce didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he did the worst thing he could have possibly done.
He cried.
He didn’t merely tear up, he didn’t have a few wayward trails of liquid stream from the corners of his eyes, rather he full-on sobbed. His motions broke down in much the same way his body already had. Tears poured down his face, practically blinding him. Every sharp inhale made his shoulders shake. He cried and cried and didn’t think he could stop. He tried to make himself stop, he tried to restrain his bawling to simple, quiet whimpers, but it was impossible.
Karl laughed and laughed almost as loudly as Bryce was weeping. And, just to add to Bryce’s humiliation, the elevator began to move right that very moment. Right after it had become too late to help, that was when it decided to start working again.
The door opened, and Karl left, “That was fucking hilarious,” he said to Bryce as he departed.
Bryce tried to wipe some of the tears off his face, but since more and more kept coming it didn’t do much good. He forced himself up, his legs wobbling and shuddering beneath him to the point it was hard to walk, then he finally left the elevator that had been his prison for far too long.
And Kenneth and Dwight were standing there in the hall, staring at him. None of them said a word for a second. Kenneth was too stunned to speak. He’d never seen Bryce cry before, or at least not like that. His nose was bright red, his eyes were puffy… He just looked so destroyed… Kenneth then noticed that it looked like Bryce had had an accident again. And, in front of whoever that other guy in the elevator had been. It must have been rough doing that in front of a stranger, in such close quarters…
“You… Uh…” Dwight started. “You… Have all the room keys. We were waiting for… I guess the elevator got jammed or something?”
Bryce didn’t say a word, just whimpered quietly.
“Hey,” Dwight said. “It’s alright. You don’t know that guy, you’ll never see h—“
“I DO know him!” Bryce sobbed out. “He… He made my life HELL when I was growing up! And now I’ve—“ He was unable to finish the sentence, overcome by another crying fit.
“He picked on you?” Kenneth asked. “Did he do anything in the elevator?”
Bryce managed to choke out that Karl had mocked him and kicked him while he’d struggled to hold back his pee, and to his surprise, Kenneth looked angry.
Kenneth most definitely was angry. Bryce was a jackass of a superior. But, Bryce wasn’t just ANYONE’S jackass of a superior, he was KENNETH'S jackass of a superior. Making fun of Bryce was a privilege, and not a right. Nobody was allowed to mock and tease Bryce except for Kenneth. “What a dick,” Kenneth said. “I didn’t know you were—“ He cut himself off, he was about to say that he’d had no idea Bryce had ever been bullied. Bryce didn’t act like he’d ever been on the bottom rung of anything. But, maybe that was all a facade, and now that it had crumbled Bryce wouldn’t like it if Kenneth said anything about it. “Um… Go change,” he said. “Go clean yourself off, you’ll feel better. Then, come to mine and Dwight’s room, okay? I’m sure you don’t want to be alone right now.”
“You actually want me there?” Bryce asked.
Kenneth almost scoffed and insisted that he didn’t really, but that kind of banter wasn’t what Bryce needed in that moment. “Yeah, sure. We don’t have to fight ALL the time.” |
He really is the worst guy...
***
“I’m going to fix this,” Kenneth declared as Bryce sat down on one of the beds.
Bryce rubbed beneath his eyes one more time. He’d showered and changed his clothes, but he still didn’t feel much better. He felt absolutely gored and hollowed out. He felt like he’d lost something irreplaceable, like a vital organ had been torn from him. Something important was missing. It couldn’t have only been the loss of his pride before Karl once more, it hurt too much to be just that. He sniffed harshly, “You can’t fix this.”
“I’m Kenneth Paulson,” Kenneth said. “What do I do best?”
“Whine?” Bryce asked, trying to force a smile so that Kenneth would know he was trying to joke around.
“No,” Kenneth sighed. “Pranks, and revenge. If we make Karl pee his pants in front of you, then you’ll be even. He won’t be able to make fun of you anymore.”
“How can you do that?”
Kenneth laid himself down on the other bed and sighed, “I don’t know…” he admitted. “Um… You know things about him, right? When you were in school together, did you ever see him needing to go badly?”
Bryce thought for a moment. “Once,” he said. “The class was brought to a farmhouse, and they hadn’t gotten indoor plumbing there yet. Karl wouldn’t use the outhouse because he thought it was disgusting. He was squirming a whole lot by the time we got back to school.”
“So, he has a fear of germs?” Kenneth asked.
“Maybe,” Bryce said. “He also said that using an outhouse was ‘beneath him’ though, so maybe he just thought it would hurt his image if he went into something dirty and ‘common’?” Bryce had grown up in a wealthier part of the country, but Karl was the child of the richest people in his hometown, it was possible he viewed outhouses as something for ‘poor people’ back then, unworthy of his status. Hopefully he still thought that way.
“Okay,” Kenneth nodded. “So, we’re going to take him somewhere with only an outhouse. And keep him there until he can’t hold it.”
“But, what if he doesn’t end up needing to go at all?”
“We can give him a lot to drink.”
“I think he’ll realize something strange is happening if you try to make him drink a ton…”
“Oh, right…” Kenneth agreed. He tried to come up with an answer, but Dwight did first.
“Dandelion tea,” Dwight said.
“What?” Kenneth asked.
“Dandelion tea,” Dwight repeated. “I had one cup of it before a speech last year, and after less than thirty minutes I was out of my seat and could barely walk to the toilet.”
“That’s weird,” Kenneth said. “It’s not supposed to happen so fast, did you forget to go before the speech again that ti—“
“No,” Dwight interrupted. “It was the tea. It just went right through me. I had some again one of the days I had to stand guard, and after less than an hour I was hurting so bad I had to just go right where I was. I didn’t even have time to turn around first so I’d have more privacy.”
Kenneth tried to process that. He didn’t know certain drinks would cause a person’s bladder to fill extra quickly. How strange. “What if Karl already knows the tea does that, though?”
“We can mix it in with something else,” Dwight said. “Some of that orange soda you’re always drinking.”
“Aw, Karl doesn’t deserve my soda,” Kenneth whined.
“If we put it in water, he’d be able to taste it.”
“I know…”
“Where do we take him, though?” Dwight asked. “Most places have indoor plumbing in the city, so it won’t work.”
“We are a little North of some old, abandoned farmland,” Kenneth said. “That would be perfect.”
“Alright, but how do we convince him to come with us there?”
Kenneth thought for a moment. But, only for a moment. “Oh, we act like we are on his side! We say that we are planning to prank Bryce at the farm.”
“And ask if he wants to see?”
“And we’ll say we’re only asking him—“
“—Because we noticed how funny he thought Bryce pissing himself was!”
Bryce started to feel that same hollowness again. It wasn’t because he’d been reminded of his accident, because he didn’t think he’d forget about it for as long as he lived no matter how infrequently it got mentioned. He just… They were finishing each other’s sentences again. They were working so well together and figuring out the answers to each problem with so much ease…
“Alright, Bryce,” Kenneth said with a smile. “By tomorrow evening at this time, you and Karl are going to be even.”
It was then Bryce realized the other thing that was leaving him feeling so gutted; Kenneth was taking charge of all of this, he was taking care of Bryce. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Bryce was supposed to have power over Kenneth. Bryce was of a higher rank, he was more mature, he was more serious… He was supposed to be in command all the time. He wasn’t supposed to have others take care of him, and he especially wasn’t supposed to have Kenneth take care of him!
Above all, he most definitely was not supposed to LIKE the feeling of being cared for like that!
***
The next morning, Kenneth waited outside of Karl’s room and told him all about his great plan to humiliate Bryce at the farm. “Bryce is a huge dick,” Kenneth explained. “And, it was hilarious when he pissed himself in front of you yesterday. So, I think he’d be even more embarrassed if we do this thing with you there to watch.”
Karl agreed without even a second’s hesitation. Kenneth was glad, if a little surprised. This guy must have really had it out for Bryce if he was willing to follow a total stranger to an old farm outside of town. For all Karl knew, Kenneth could have been a psychotic serial killer that was trying to lure him to his secret torture dungeon.
In a way, Kenneth kind of was. Just, he only intended to torture Karl’s bladder today.
As the four walked through town, Dwight took a couple bottles of soda from his shoulder bag. He’d put the dandelion tea into one of them, and had peeled the label ever so slightly to keep from mixing them up before replacing the cap. “Oh, it is hot today,” Dwight said. “Kenneth, I know how you get dehydrated fast, want something to drink?”
Kenneth, whom had been babbling to Bryce about this ‘great thing’ he just ‘had to see’ in order to keep up the illusion that BRYCE was the one being targeted for a prank, paused. “Yes, Dwight,” he said, taking both the bottles.
Karl frowned, “Do you really need two of those? Don’t you have any for your guest?”
“Of course,” Kenneth nodded. He considered the bottles in his hands for a moment. The one that was booby-trapped was the one with… With the label still intact, yeah. He handed that one to Karl and opened the other one for himself.
They continued walking and walking, and as they began to make their way down the dusty roads that existed outside of town, Kenneth felt a sudden, blazingly intense pressure at the base of his cock. All at once, it was as though he was going to start spraying urine everywhere if he didn’t get himself in front of a toilet right that very second. He’d only ever felt such an intense urge to pee come out of absolutely nowhere back when he’d had his urinary tract infection. There was literally no build-up. Just, one second he was walking along, comfortable as could be, and the next he felt like a gorilla was mashing its fist into his bladder.
So surprised was he by the instantaneous onslaught of need that it took him a moment to figure out what must have occurred; He’d mixed up the cans. He’d drank the one with the dandelion tea mixed in. That was why it had tasted a little funny, and that was why he was now unexpectedly fighting not to pee his pants after having just relieved himself less than an hour ago before leaving the inn.
This was bad. This was very bad. He wanted to demand that everyone stop and turn back around so he could try to find somewhere to pee back in town. But, knew the chances of him finding such a location were slim. He tried to just keep walking, tried to ignore his urge. The intense, blinding spasms had passed, now his need was just a constant throbbing hum beneath his belt. One hand darted up to his mouth and he sunk his teeth into his index finger.
He realized what he was doing, and that both Dwight and Bryce knew exactly what it meant. But, even as embarrassment flared, he didn’t care. He had to pee so much, he just HAD to bite something.
Dwight noticed right away, “Kenneth—“
“Bryce, Karl,” Kenneth said sharply. “Wait here a moment. Dwight and I need to… Uh…” he groped around for an explanation. “We have to…”
“We need to check the map,” Dwight supplied. “To make sure we’re going the right way!”
“Yes,” Kenneth agreed. “That.” He tugged Dwight off to the side and into the bushes surrounding the dirt path. “Dwight,” he whispered harshly. “I messed this up. I messed this up really bad.”
Dwight tried to act like he was more surprised Kenneth’s plan had gone wrong somehow. Even though he could count the number of times Kenneth had concocted a plan that didn’t end up going horribly awry on one hand. “What happened?”
“I switched up the bottles.”
“… Oh, so you drank the one with the—“
“Yessss!” Kenneth hissed. “And you were definitely right about it being intense! I… I feel like the pee’s all the way up to my esophagus!”
Dwight shut his eyes, “Thank you for that image, Kenneth.” Sometimes he really wished Kenneth would be as vague and abstract when describing his need to HIM as he was with everyone else…
“Well, you’re welcome,” Kenneth said. “But, I can’t be out here right now, and I can’t leave, either! I promised Bryce I’d make Karl pee his pants!”
“There are more bottles,” Dwight said. “And I put even more of the tea into those, so it will definitely hit Karl. Just, keep acting natural.”
Kenneth began to practically jog in place. “I can’t drink another bottle! If I do, I’ll explode and you will have to call someone in to scrape up my urine flecked remains!”
Dwight groaned, “Whatever happened to ‘I must attend to something pressing’? Why can’t you just say that?”
“Because, I am not uncomfortable when we are together!” Kenneth said. “I mean, I guess I AM uncomfortable right now, but that’s just because I’ve got to piss like an eight-month pregnant racehorse lost in the ocean!”
“Oh my God…” Dwight sighed. Kenneth could be so crass when he was upset. Still, Dwight couldn’t help but think it was funny how he’d be so vulgar about his urge when it was just the two of them, knowing how uptight his friend would be if he were with anyone else. “Do you have to pee, Kenneth?” He asked, laughing slightly. “Is that what you’re trying to say? Well, you’re still going to need to drink with Karl, or he might guess that there’s something wrong with the sodas. Just try and take little sips, okay?”
Kenneth shook his head, his bladder was already shuddering at the thought of having to accommodate even more than it already was. “Can’t you drink with him instead? O—Or, can Bryce? You guys can pee whenever you have to, I—“
Dwight looked around, “Can you try and go here? I know it’s not much cover, but—“
“I can’t,” Kenneth interrupted. “They’re both too close, and the bushes are so scraggly, and I just—“
“Okay,” Dwight said. “I’ll drink the other sodas, I have a new plan anyway. To help insure that the rest of the tea makes it into Karl.”
Dwight’s plan unfolded the minute they were back on the path. “Hey, Karl. Bryce said you’re super tough. But, I bet you can’t drink soda as fast as I can!”
“I definitely can,” Karl said.
“We’ll see about that!” Dwight took out two more bottles, and made extra certain that it was the tainted one that he handed to Karl. Dwight drank his own bottle as fast as he could, and beat Karl whom, predictably, demanded a re-match. In this fashion, Dwight made absolutely certain that three diuretic-infused bottles of soda had gone down Karl’s throat.
Dwight turned around to give Kenneth a thumbs up, and his face fell. He should have known that Kenneth wasn’t doing so well when he’d actually managed to fall so far behind everyone else. Ordinarily, Kenneth was bubbling with so much energy that if he was walking with a group, he darted super far ahead and just kept running.
That definitely wasn’t happening now. He was walking with his knees rubbing together, and his toes pointed inwards. One hand was jammed into his mouth, and the other was stuck around his waist, almost but not quite making contact with his crotch. At least this was confirmation that the dandelion tea certainly made people need the restroom, but Dwight was seriously concerned for his friend.
Bryce looked back too, wondering what the hold-up was. He too felt something akin to worry when he saw the obvious distress Kenneth was in. He also felt a bit of frustration. He ran back to where Kenneth was lagging and whispered; “Paulson! You moronic itchy sweater of a human being! I ordered you to relieve yourself before we left, why did you disobe—“
“I didn’t,” Kenneth hissed. “I did go then!”
“I don’t believe you, your bladder is twice the size of this country, no way you already—“
“I mixed up the first two bottles,” Kenneth whimpered miserably. His face scrunched up and he pinched his eyes closed as he finally allowed his hand to grip itself around his aching cock.
“…Oh,” Bryce said. His tone softened a little when he realized that, ultimately, Kenneth’s current plight was only occurring out of a desire to make HIM feel better… He looked up and down the trail, but the area was fairly barren. What bushes were there were right out in the open. Maybe Kenneth could crouch behind a particularly large one and be mostly concealed, but Bryce doubted that would be satisfactory in easing his shy bladder. And, if what Kenneth had said yesterday was true, that taking his pants all the way down made him even more anxious than usual, then squatting to pee as he hid behind a bush just wasn’t going to happen.
He thought of the outhouse that they sought to torment Karl with. Provided it wasn’t so dilapidated now that the door had broken off, or didn’t shut any more… “You are good with directions. Are we close?”
Kenneth winced, his other hand joining the first to clutch harshly against his dick. He hadn’t leaked yet, but he could feel it coming. It was right at his tip now, his hands the only things keeping it from reaching his clothes. “Nnnh, yes,” he said. “Should be… Should be fifteen minutes or so.”
“I hope you can use the outhouse,” Bryce said. “If not… I’ll… I’ll think of something. Dwight and I will. You won’t have to hurt… Not that I care,” he added quickly.
Kenneth kept focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, squeezing himself with all his meager strength. He felt himself dribble a few times, felt his urine swishing and swirling against his opening, trying to force its way out of him. He was so focused on maintaining a modicum control over his own need that he didn’t notice what was happening to Karl.
Karl had begun to slow down. Every so often, he would pause his steps to adjust his fly and shift his weight around a little. He was beginning to sweat and lingered whenever they passed a patch of bushes. It wasn’t until he asked how much further they still had to walk that Kenneth realized the tea must have been hitting him.
“Paulson says about fifteen minutes,” Bryce replied. “Is there something you are in a rush for?”
“No,” Karl said. “I am just growing bored of having to look at you. Anybody ever tell you you’ve got the kind of face that just cries out for a punch?”
Bryce fell silent, and Kenneth was confused. That hadn’t even been a GOOD insult! He and Bryce said WAY worse things to one another all the time! But, Bryce never just… clammed up like that no matter WHAT Kenneth called him. Kenneth once called him an intolerable excuse for a sorry ass pastry and Bryce had just smirked and let Kenneth know that he was the reason God had given humans middle fingers!
So, it couldn’t have been Karl’s words that were upsetting Bryce so much…
What all had Karl done to Bryce in their past?
While Kenneth grew more and more lost in his misery, only able to comprehend the throbbing, pulsating need erupting from inside his body, Dwight and Bryce kept their attention on Karl. Karl was obviously feeling the full effects of the tea now… He jerked his hips every few steps as they walked along. He’d bend forward at the waist ever so slightly before trying to straighten back up again quick as a flash. His hands danced around near his waist, occasionally tucking between his knees but not daring to meet his crotch. Sometimes, he’d fold his hands behind his back, only to yank them apart and double over. Once, Dwight managed to pick up the very soft sound of hissing liquid, and from the look on Karl’s face he was pretty sure it hadn’t come from Kenneth.
Soon, even with as desperate as Kenneth was, he was also able to pick up on Karl’s anxious squirming. He tried to keep his eyes off the other desperate man, the sight of the pee-dance Karl couldn’t help but perform was making Kenneth’s own bladder flare with even more intense need than before. Kenneth concentrated on evening out his breaths, he could feel the skin of his abdomen straining to stretch around the curved stone of his bladder, so distended and painful in his center.
He caught Karl looking back at him and tried to walk normally once more, but he was so full of piss that he couldn’t even guess what normal was anymore. He managed to move his hands from his cock, but he needed to keep his legs very, very close together and couldn’t stand up straight at all. The spasms had become constant, his insides felt like they’d shatter under the strain and pressure. “Wh—What are you l—looking at?” he asked.
Karl turned back around. “How much further?” he asked, doubling over very slightly, his hands squeezing onto his thighs.
“I—I don’t know!” Kenneth cried. “Not much!”
“Why do you want to know?” Bryce asked, trying to keep the taunting flair out of his voice, though he was positive Karl was now too desperate to notice it.
“Because I… Have leg cramps,” Karl said.
“Need more to drink?” Bryce offered, and now the taunting tone was definitely present and clear.
“No!” Karl barked.
Finally, they’d arrived at the farm and Kenneth could have cried with relief. There must have been SOMEWHERE here that he could let it flow. Following his thoughts, his bladder surged downwards, a jet of urine slicking down his leg as he clutched himself tighter and tighter.
Karl jerked his head in Kenneth’s direction, as both his hands were still pressing against this thighs. “W—Wow, Bryce. Even your subordinates piss their pants!” he remarked. “Now I und—understand why you were placed in charge of them!”
Bryce scowled, but instead of firing anything back, he just turned around. He couldn’t think of anything to say. And he was shocked that he was so upset by Karl making fun of Kenneth! Kenneth was an irritating, loud-mouthed, obnoxious little twerp… But, at the end of the day, he was BRYCE'S irritating, loud-mouthed, obnoxious little twerp. And, Bryce was the only one that got to decide if Kenneth suffered or not!
Bryce did not WANT Kenneth to suffer right now, so he was not going to!
Kenneth was bright red, “Sh—B—Be quiet!” he ordered. “It was a v—very long walk!”
Dwight bounced a little on his toes, “Yeah, and we drank a lot of soda,” he added. “You drank more than any of us, Karl. You must have to go too, right?”
Karl made no attempt to raise himself from his hunched position. “A bit,” he said. “Are there any facilities around here?”
Bryce gestured to the small outhouse that was just outside the barn, “Right over there,” he said.
Bryce watched as Karl stared at the tiny structure. Karl’s face paled so much he practically glowed. “I’ll wait…” he said.
Kenneth had no time to revel in the fact it looked as though his plan was going to work. He was already well on his way towards the outhouse. His bladder was shivering in his center, the liquid contained within it rushing harshly against his sphincters. It wasn’t until he reached the door that he realized how disgusting an old outhouse that had been sitting on abandoned farmland for years would be. He opened the door, then quickly slammed it shut once again. “I think I’ll wait, too…” he mumbled .
“Kenneth…” Dwight scolded. “You’re bursting."
Kenneth looked at the outhouse once again. He bit his lip as he tangled his legs up as if he was trying to tie them into a bow. He shook his head.
Dwight sighed, “Well, I’m still going…” he said. He opened the door himself… Then shut it.
“See, I told you!” Kenneth said. “Revolting!”
“We’ll… Find something,” Dwight promised.
Kenneth’s hands were still wedged between his thighs, but the horror he’d felt when looking at the inside of that outhouse had somehow managed to tamp down his need a little bit. Like, his bladder was disgusted by the repulsive thing as well, and was determined not to necessitate Kenneth entering it…
But, that only lasted about half a minute, then the spasms from within his core resumed their constant, vicious assault. “Nnnh, I… I order you to f—find me a… A suitable loca—“ He sputtered for a few seconds and doubled over as his bladder seemed to drop downward and slam against his weakening muscles. “Ohh, I hafta go NOW, Dwight!”
Dwight winced at the sheer neediness in Kenneth’s cracking voice. “I… I know it’s gross, Kenneth. I know it’s really, really gross. But, you’re about to have an accident, and there’s nowhere else. You can’t NOT pee right now.”
Kenneth ground his thighs together, his hands clutching between them as tiny droplets of urine oozed from his tip. “I--I should wash your mouth out w-with soap, you filthy, double-negative spewi—Ah!” He exclaimed, a hot jet of piss gliding down his leg with a very audible hiss.
“Come on,” Dwight said. “I’ll take care of you…” He helped Kenneth hobble into the outhouse and shut the door behind them. “See? It’s not AS bad when the door’s closed, we can barely see it now!”
It was such a tight fit that when Kenneth shuddered, Dwight felt him vibrating against his chest. “I still know,” Kenneth whined out, but Dwight heard his zipper being pulled down a second later.
Dwight began their usual routine. He rubbed Kenneth’s shoulders, neck and back, trying to get deep into his tense muscles. “You’re okay,” Dwight encouraged. “Nice and safe, I’m right here… Just let it go…” He was positive the majority of the stress Kenneth was feeling now was due more to his disgusting surroundings than any belief that someone was going to barge in and see him peeing. “Pretend you’re in the nice, clean restroom at the inn and relax…”
***
Back in the main clearing, Bryce was delighting in the show Karl was putting on. He was squirming, bouncing, dancing and clenching. Obviously, he was holding back an entire ocean, and every so often Bryce heard a tiny bit of it spurt into his bully’s clothes. “Sure you don’t wanna use the outhouse?”
“Y—Your subordinates went in there together you know,” Karl managed to choke out between hisses of pee. “That is not ap—appropriate behavior.”
Bryce almost launched into an explanation of Kenneth’s shy bladder and Dwight’s method of helping out, but stopped himself. Kenneth was Bryce’s punching bag, not Karl’s.
Or. Well. Maybe not his punching bag. His… Something.
Whatever Kenneth was though, he belonged to Bryce.
“That’s none of your business,” Bryce replied instead.
Karl resumed his shuffling and shimmying, crossing his legs and doubling over before squatting down so his ass brushed the dirt, his hands kneading into his crotch.
Bryce snickered, watching in numb awe as his bully actually came apart right before his eyes. It was a beautiful thing to behold in a way. Bryce remembered all the times Karl had kept him from his relief until it was too late. All the times Karl had tackled him and punched him in the face. All the times Karl had broken his glasses.
But, here Karl was, losing a fight against his own body.
Bryce realized a moment later that Kenneth had seriously done this for him. Even with as much as they disliked each other, even with as much as they fought and messed with one another, Kenneth cared about him at least a little bit. And Bryce had to admit he cared about Kenneth just slightly as well. They certainly weren’t friends, but they weren’t really enemies, either. They were something in-between.
Bryce needed something that would send Karl over the edge… He thought of one thing right away, and just hoped Kenneth would forgive him for it. “Those two are taking much too long,” Bryce stated. “I simply must go order them to hurry it up…”
“Y—You couldn’t even o—order a bee to make honey,” Karl said.
“Sure I could,” Bryce insisted. “Those two obey my every word! Come watch if you don’t believe me.”
***
Dwight continued to rub Kenneth’s tense shoulders, feeling a few of the knots fade away, feeling some of the tightness slacken, feeling him lose his rigidity and straining posture… Then, he tried something else, he took one hand off of Kenneth’s shoulder, and brought it around to his front. He tapped Kenneth very, very gently in the middle, just above his bladder, and began drumming his fingers there. He wasn’t poking or prodding at him, just tapping.
An uncontrollable spasm went through Kenneth’s bladder, like it was lurching out of his control. It twitched and convulsed, a tremor rushing through it. Then, something strange happened, he felt all of the muscles around his bladder going totally lax, it felt like his holding muscles dropped down towards his feet. It happened completely suddenly, totally out of nowhere, and the instant it happened—
PSSSSSHHHHHHH!
Kenneth was peeing like crazy. He had zero control over it. It was ridiculously forceful. Considering how nervous his surroundings had made him, Kenneth was shocked he was gushing so strongly right out of the gate like that. The astounding relief that tore through him ripped a moan from Kenneth’s throat that was loud and breathy enough to make Dwight blush.
Tautness fled from Kenneth’s body as he continued to spray out his bladder’s contents, and Dwight moved to wrap his arms around his friend to keep him standing upright. Feeling Kenneth melt against him like that made Dwight’s heartbeat quicken. He almost wanted to cuddle his friend now, even while he was still peeing out what must have been buckets of soda and tea.
Unbeknownst to them, Bryce had brought Karl to stand just outside the outhouse door. Bryce’s bladder was very sensitive to the sound of running water, and the noises that were resulting from Kenneth’s release were taking an affect… After Kenneth finished, Bryce definitely had to get in there…
But, if it was making Bryce feel a need to go, it was clearly destroying Karl. And, when they heard Kenneth moan out a ragged sounding “Ahhhhhh…..” there was suddenly the sound of a second stream. But, this one was spraying into the dirt at Karl’s feet.
Bryce watched in equal parts stunned awe and delightful satisfaction as Karl lost all control of his bladder. Karl was still clutching himself as wave after wave of liquid soaked into his uniform and flowed down to the ground. Bryce saw Karl begin to raise one hand up to the door of the outhouse, obviously intending to knock.
Bryce grabbed Karl’s hand and pulled it back. “Shhh,” he said softly. “Kenneth needs quiet so he can finish. And, you’ve already wet your pants anyway. May as well finish the job.”
Karl had a look of despair on his face that made Bryce’s heart thrum with happiness. Pee was still gushing and gushing, flowing in threads down Karl’s pant legs and pooling around his feet. “What the Hell are you talki—“
“SHHH!” Bryce hushed again. He realized that his shushing noise sounded an awful lot like running water too, so he did it again a little louder. Not that Karl needed any auditory encouragement anymore. Bryce had never seen anyone piss themselves with so much force before. Karl’s pants were shimmering and slick with hot urine, and more and more just kept on drizzling down them. A torrential hiss, like the sound of a broken faucet, could be heard emitting from Karl. It was obvious that his body had completely and totally failed, it had become impossible for him to hold back even the tiniest bit.
The door to the outhouse swung open. Dwight and Kenneth stepped out, Kenneth with a small smile on his pink face. “Phew, I feel soooo much bett—“ He stopped cold when he saw Karl and Bryce were there. His heart was pounding. How much had they heard? He felt his face starting to catch fire. Had they heard him peeing? Had they heard the… the moaning? Kenneth honestly DID try not to make all those embarrassing noises, but he seriously couldn’t control i— He then noticed that Karl was sopping wet. “Aww, come on! I missed the funny part!” he whined.
“Sorry,” Bryce said. “But, as you can see, it all worked.”
“What worked?” Karl asked. “What did you bastards plan?”
“Karl?” Kenneth said. “Come closer.”
Karl didn’t really want to get close to anyone when he was covered in his own piss, so he stayed where he was.
So, Kenneth walked up next to him. Their height difference was so vast that Kenneth had to crane his neck in order to look into Karl’s eyes. “You listen to me,” he said. Kenneth had never allowed his meager height to keep him from trying to maintain control of any situation. What he lacked in size, he made up for in noise. He could be loud. He could be louder than anyone he knew. He shouted at Karl; “You see that piece of shit asshole bastard over there?” He swooped an arm in Bryce’s direction. “You see him? Yeah. That is MY piece of shit asshole bastard, you got that? Not yours. I get to mess with him, not you. And, if I ever hear you’re screwing with him again, I’m going to do a lot worse than just make you piss yourself.”
“What?” Karl asked. “All five feet of you?”
Kenneth’s rage simmered and boiled, like a kettle had been left on for too long inside his head. “You may be bigger than me, but I guarantee you that I’m a whole Hell of a lot smarter than you are. I could trick you into blowing yourself up and you’d never see it coming. I tricked you into drinking several bottles laced with a diuretic today, didn’t I?”
“That’s what y—“
“Yes,” Kenneth said. “That’s what happens to people who wrong me or try to take what’s mine. Bryce is MY jerk-ass douche-canoe, and no one is allowed to bother him except for me!” He stepped away from Karl. “Do not let this happen again.” |
This one gets pretty intense...
***
Dwight had been shot. Twice. One in the leg and one in the chest. Had the one in his chest been a little further to one side, he could have been shot in the heart. He could have died. Kenneth was overcome by terror when he’d heard. He’d run straight for the medical building and into the room Dwight was staying in. He’d insisted he could save Dwight better than any of the medics could. He’d insisted he needed to be there every second while Dwight recovered.
But, he hadn’t been allowed to stay.
Dwight’s condition was stable. He was in a lot of pain, but would be perfectly fine. They’d patched him up and he was going to heal. He just needed to rest and take some medications, and he’d be good as new.
Kenneth wished he could believe them, but unless he was actually there, holding Dwight’s hand, talking to him whenever he was awake, and seeing each and every thing that happened to him, he couldn’t be certain Dwight was okay.
Elizabeth had tried to assure him. “Your friend will be alright, just let him rest up for a while. He’s okay. None of his wounds are life threatening. The one in his chest did not go in too deep. And it completely missed his heart and lungs, he’s only lost some blood and damaged a rib, and we can treat that very easily. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. He’ll just have some stitches and need some time to recover as he heals.”
Kenneth had been unable to believe that. But, after he was told for the tenth time that he could not stay because someone else could end up needing the second bed in Dwight’s room, he finally left. Kenneth had gone to his post in a daze. He could barely remember where he was or who he was. He kept turning to his side to say something, thinking Dwight was right there next to him like he usually was. But, he wasn’t and Kenneth was speaking to empty air.
Kenneth had spent so much time being part of an “us” that he had no idea how to just be a “me”.
And, he was just so scared that Dwight wouldn’t get better. That he’d never see him again. That he’d never talk to him again. That they’d never hold one another again. Kenneth couldn’t picture life without Dwight; It just looked blank and unbearable.
Bryce approached him after a while. Kenneth was certain he was about to get shouted at because he knew he wasn’t standing properly. “Paulson, I heard what has happened to Smith,” he said. “I want you to take today off. Tomorrow too, maybe. You are unfit to work right now, and it would be irresponsible of me to force you to do so. Go back to your barrack. Rest.”
Kenneth had obeyed, walking dizzily to his room in the barrack. He laid on his bed facing the wall so he wouldn’t have to be reminded of how Dwight’s bed was currently empty. He tried to sleep, but without the sound of Dwight snoring next to him, it was impossible. He tried to read, but he ended up reading the same sentence over and over without processing it. He tried to listen to an audio drama on the radio, but none of the words could penetrate his hazy mind.
So, he just kept laying there, wishing time would go faster, speed up to when Dwight was all better. To when Kenneth didn’t have to worry anymore. To when they could be side by side again.
Time moved at a crawl though, and he just laid there and laid there and laid there. He drank some water to try and soothe his nerves, but it didn’t help. It just made him have to pee. He hadn’t gone since really early in the morning, so it made sense that his bladder would force him from his bed now.
He entered the restroom and locked the door, even though he was the only person around the click of the lock helped him feel safe and secure. Not that it did much to stop the pounding of his heart in his ears today. He lifted the seat on the toilet and unzipped. Ordinarily, it took a few seconds for his stream to start, even when he was nice and alone like this. So, he didn’t immediately panic when he didn’t begin peeing straight away.
After a full minute had passed and he still hadn’t let out a drop though, he started to get concerned. He tapped his fingers over his middle, the same way Dwight had done it that day in the outhouse. He felt his bladder convulsing just like it had then, but nothing came out. “Come on…” he mumbled.
His bladder didn’t listen to his pleas, though.
He mashed his hand against it as firmly as he could.
Nothing.
He held his breath and counted down from sixty.
Nothing.
He thought about waterfalls and oceans and rain.
Nothing.
He turned on the faucet.
Nothing.
Nothing worked. He couldn’t pee. Kenneth was confused. He was alone, wasn’t he? And the presence of other people was the only thing that made his bladder plug itself shut, wasn’t it? So then, why wasn’t he peeing?
Maybe he just didn’t actually have to? The nervousness he felt about Dwight was just making him FEEL like he had to pee, but really his bladder was empty and that was why he couldn’t get anything out. Kenneth thought that sort of made sense. Even if it did REALLY feel like he had to go… He zipped himself back up and left the room, deciding he’d try it again later, when the need was more pronounced and thus definitely not just his imagination.
A couple hours later, Kenneth was positive that he had to go. He was positive that he had to go pretty badly. He’d spent the last several minutes tensing his thighs as he stared out the window trying not to think about Dwight. He got out of bed and again headed for the toilet, feeling quite eager to let his bladder unload.
Except, that didn’t happen.
It was the same thing as earlier. He was locked in a private restroom, with zero people anywhere near him, while his bladder still refused to surrender to his demands. His body felt as hot and tense all over as it had ever since he learned of Dwight’s injuries, and his heart still hadn’t stopped thrashing out of control inside his chest. The sound of blood rushing in his ears had not abated once during the entire day, and Kenneth’s breathing remained short and tight.
All those discomforts had faded into the background after he’d been enduring them for as long as he had, but now that he was aware of them once more he wondered if perhaps they were the culprit. Whenever Kenneth couldn’t pee because someone was near him or he didn’t feel he had decent privacy, what he was feeling was nervousness and anxiety. And, right now, Kenneth was feeling absolutely nothing but nervousness and anxiety. Perhaps, the reason for those emotions didn’t actually matter, whether they were caused by a lack of solitude or by a worry for his friend, the end result was the same; They made all of Kenneth’s muscles tense up, including the ones controlling his bladder.
Now that Kenneth was pretty sure he knew what was going on, he finally panicked. He needed to calm himself down somehow. No way could he hold it until Dwight was totally healed up. That could take days, or weeks! Kenneth already needed to pee so much! He couldn’t endure this for weeks, he just couldn’t! The idea was horrifying; He imagined his bladder just getting fuller and fuller indefinitely, until he was so swollen that he couldn’t even fit through doorways.
He knew that wasn’t actually possible. He’d rupture his bladder before that could happen. But, that idea frightened him too; He didn’t want to die so young, and especially not of shy bladder syndrome! What if they put that on his gravestone? ‘Here lies Kenneth Paulson, he had to pee so bad that he died.’
Kenneth tried to shake away the mental image of that, and redirect his attention once more on getting himself to pee. If he could do that, he wouldn’t need to worry about dying a humiliating and painful death at the hands of his stubborn bladder. His eyes were watering from both emotion and need. He felt so utterly childish. This was not what he should have been concerning himself with! He needed to be focusing on Dwight, not on his need to go!
This was such a stupid problem to have. Any normal person would be able to fix it perfectly easily. But no, Kenneth couldn’t be normal. Kenneth had to make everything needlessly complicated. Even things that should be perfectly natural and simple, like peeing!
He stood there for a very long time, to the point his legs started to get tired and his back started to hurt from how tense he’d gotten. Kenneth had never had good luck getting himself to relax and pee while sitting on the toilet, having his pants down so far, being in a vulnerable position where he couldn’t easily defend himself… It made him feel all the more exposed and uneasy.
But, he’d gotten an idea. Maybe if he sat down and read a book to try and distract his mind, he’d just pee without having to think about it! He left to grab his book, then pulled down his clothes and took a seat. It felt kind of weird to him for a little bit, but he seemed to have an easier time concentrating on the book now than he did earlier.
He tried to focus only on the words on the page, hoping that eventually his holding muscles would just give out and he’d start spraying against the inside of the bowl. But, as more and more time passed and Kenneth’s bladder only continued filling, he realized that this wasn’t going to work either.
He pulled up his pants and left the room again. He felt extremely panicked then, and desperate. As he laid in bed, he thrashed back and forth, his legs rubbing together as he held onto himself. He was furious at his body; Here it was forcing him to writhe and squirm and clutch his cock against wave after wave of pulsating desperation, yet when he brought it to the toilet it refused to release!
By the time Kenneth was going to bed, he was in tears. He hadn’t bothered taking off his uniform before going to sleep, it was too much effort and would require too much bending around and squashing of his bladder. He was sobbing so hard his body shook and jostled the walls of his aching bladder. It hurt so bad. He wanted to pee. He didn’t care how or where. He was no longer trying to hold it. He was forcing himself to splay his legs apart underneath his blanket, his hands tucked underneath his body so he wouldn’t grip his dick.
Kenneth had decided hours ago that, if he peed himself, he’d be perfectly fine with it. He just wanted it out right then! He didn’t think he’d cried this hard in years, not since the day his Mother died. The stress, the worry, the physical agony… It was too much for him, his emotions were now as impossible to hold in as his bladder was to let out. He felt so totally pathetic, Dwight had been freaking shot, and here Kenneth was sobbing like a little baby over a need to ‘go potty’.
Kenneth stood from his bed again and went to get the pills he sometimes took to help fall asleep. The one time he’d nearly wet his bed, it was because he’d accidentally taken two of those pills instead of one. He’d woken up just as he’d started dribbling into his pajamas. Tonight, Kenneth took two of them deliberately, praying that they’d knock him out so much that he’d wake up with a wet bed and an empty bladder.
Even after the pills, it was hard to fall asleep. Kenneth liked to sleep on his front, but trying to do so put even more pressure on his bloated bladder. Trying to sleep in a different position was challenging, and trying to sleep through the agonizing pain in his core was nearly impossible.
Somehow, Kenneth managed to enter a fitful rest for a few hours. When he woke up, his sheets were bunched in both his clenched fists, his legs were tangled up, his blanket was on the floor… And his bladder had transformed into a white, hot ball of pure, unadulterated torture. The pain he was in was indescribable, it was like something out of a horror novel, something an evil regime would do to torture prisoners in a deranged detention center, something that was forged deep in the bowels of Hell itself.
Kenneth sank his teeth into his own arm as he fought not to scream in agony. He’d endured many painful things during his life. He’d been beaten. He’d been shot. He’d been strangled. But, absolutely nothing could compare to what he was feeling then.
The only moisture present in his bed was his sweat. All of his urine was still trapped inside his bladder. Kenneth tried to release it right where he was. ‘Please, please,’ he silently begged, unsure if he was pleading with his bladder or with God. ‘I can’t take it anymore, I’ll do anything…’ God didn’t listen, and neither did his bladder, which remained an impenetrable vessel of piss retention, full beyond belief.
Kenneth couldn’t stay in bed anymore. He got to his feet, the movement causing the pain to intensify. He could not believe it had actually gotten worse. How much worse could it possibly get? He considered leaving and going to the medical building, begging whoever was there for some kind of cure, anything to make this all stop. He stumbled around the room, every step like a white hot poker into his middle. He wasn’t even really walking, he was more like crawling, his whole body trying to give his bladder the space it needed, but there was no more space left anywhere.
He was hoping with each ‘step’ that he’d start peeing uncontrollably into his uniform. He didn’t care that it would soak the floor. He didn’t care that he might get in trouble if he failed to clean up what was sure to be a massive puddle adequately enough. He didn’t care about anything. He just had to go. He just had to go so, so much. He could not believe he had to go so badly. He could not believe this level of pain was even possible.
At some point he collapsed into a ball in the corner of the room. He curled around himself, shaking and twitching and whimpering in a way that no longer even sounded human. He was steadily leaking tears in the way he wished he could have steadily leaked pee. ‘It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Make it stop. Please. Just make it end.’
The tears kept coming. He wished Dwight was there. Dwight would make it all okay. But, Dwight wasn’t there, and he couldn’t be there, and Kenneth was still utterly convinced that there was a chance that he wouldn’t ever be there again. Hell, Kenneth decided he didn’t even deserve Dwight, because Kenneth was worthless. He did not deserve to be helped. He did not deserve to be loved. He’d done all of this to himself because he was a broken waste of flesh that couldn’t even fucking pee. He deserved to hurt. He was a pitiful excuse for a person. He started to mutter to himself, calling himself every cruel, vicious, hurtful thing he could think of.
Kenneth hated his shy bladder, and the only thing he hated more than it was himself.
This went on for well over an hour, at least. The sun slowly began to peak in through the window as Kenneth continued berating himself and shuddering on the floor.
Kenneth wasn’t sure if it had just begun, or if it had been going on for a few seconds without his noticing, but there was warmth between his thighs. There was dampness. He felt slow, dismal trickling dripping through his tip.
He was going.
He went completely still, trying very hard not to tense any muscle in his body, no matter how far away from his bladder it may have been. He didn’t want his jaw to tighten. He didn’t want his eyelids to strain together. He didn’t want his arms or shoulders to go rigid. He didn’t want to put any effort into standing from his coiled position to try to get to the toilet.
He was going.
His stream was incredibly light, barely worthy of being called a stream at all, more like a corroded garden hose trying to pump water through clogged pipes. If Kenneth moved at all, if he allowed any stiffness to build up in his body anywhere and made an attempt to get himself to an appropriate place for this to be happening, he was afraid he would stop peeing altogether again.
He needed this little, minuscule flow to keep going. He needed to keep peeing his pants. The realization that he wanted to continue on having an accident, that he’d reached such a wretched, pathetic state where wetting himself was a blessing, made him want to cry even more. He made no effort to hold back the tears that brimmed in his eyes, he let them trickle down his face as twenty three and a half hours worth of urine slowly and choppily trickled out of his horrendously stopped up bladder.
As his pee slowly left his body, waves and waves of emotions dove into it. This both did and did not feel like a relief. In his mind, he did feel relieved; It was finally, at long last, coming out. And, other than the heinous fear that he’d lock right back up before he managed to finish, he felt hopeful that the ordeal was at last at a close. But, physically, he didn’t feel much relief. He needed to be gushing like a broken faucet, his bladder’s contents should have been forcefully spraying through his urethra like trying to funnel an entire ocean through a thin coffee straw. He should have been shuddering and shivering as wave after wave poured ferociously out of him.
But, that wasn’t happening. He was dribbling slow, unsteady drops, producing a light drizzle and not a rainstorm. He didn’t dare try to push down on his muscles to get it to speed up. What if that had the opposite effect and made it stop again? His inability to fully unclench and let it all burst forth meant that even now, as he was at last peeing, his bladder and the surrounding muscles still ached.
Then, there was the knowledge that, even with as relieved as he was to finally pee, this was an accident. He was wetting himself. He was a twenty four year old soldier, and he was coiled up in a fetal position on the floor releasing his bladder into his clothes while tears streamed down his face. And, worst of all, he was grateful to be doing it. He was thankful that he was pissing his uniform. Pissing his uniform felt like being let out of prison, and he was just so indebted to God or whoever it was that had finally hit the switch inside his body and allowed for this to happen.
Emptiness did not come quickly to Kenneth. At no point did he actually burst; At no point did he unleash the gushing torrent that he’d needed to let out. He continued to ploddingly drip away, his stream moving at the pace of a snail coated in molasses on a hot day. It took almost five minutes before all the urine was finally out of him. He was laying in a huge, cold puddle, sodden and soaked through. He didn’t get up for another handful of minutes, wanting to make certain his bladder really had dried out all the way.
His middle still felt tender and sore. And, when he stood up, pain shot through his abdomen again. But, not the same kind of pain as from before. It wasn’t the urgent pulsing of a bladder that was stretched well beyond its natural limit, it was a tight, aching throb, like he’d just had a cannonball launched against him.
As he took in the pain, and looked down at his drenched clothes and the mess he’d made on the floor, his tears picked up. Against his will, he imagined what Father would have said if he’d been alive to witness all of that. “Pathetic, brat. Absolutely pathetic. I thought that by your age you would have figured out how to take a piss like a human. Guess not. Look what you did to yourself. And for what reason? All because of your ‘friend’? But, he’s not really your ‘friend’ is he? Tell me the truth, tell me all about how I raised a dysfunctional god damned sodomite that’s not even fucking housebroken.”
He cried harder, backing against the wall and sliding down it. He could hear Father saying those things so clearly. He sobbed so much his ribs hurt and his sore abdomen ached with even stronger pangs. He wasn’t sure how long he cried for, but it was long enough that his eyes started to burn and his cheeks hurt from how often he’d ended up scrubbing his tears away.
The pain in his center was still there when his crying finally eased a little. He knew something was wrong. He knew that it wasn’t supposed to feel that way. The odds that he’d achieved another infection were high.
He quickly wiped off the floor as best as he could, then changed out of his wet uniform and put on a clean one. On shaky legs, the soreness in his middle building with each step, he made his way to the medical building.
Elizabeth was already there at the door. “Paulson, Smith is doing much better today,” she said immediately. “He is alert and able to take brief walks across the room. You may visit him again today if you wish.”
“I—I do,” Kenneth said. God, did he ever… If Dwight was able to hold him right now, Kenneth was sure he would feel ten thousand times better. “But… Something… I… I need… I just… Had this thing happen. I couldn’t ‘go’ for almost an entire day.”
“Go?” Elizabeth repeated. “Go where?”
“To… To, um, relieve myself,” Kenneth said. “I couldn’t urinate. For almost twenty four hours. And, I still feel really sore. I think I’ve got an infectio—“
“What?” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Why didn’t you— What happened?”
“I… I have this thing, I can’t… Urinate when I’m stressed out. And, I’ve been so worried about—“
“How long has this been going on?”
“My whole life,” Kenneth said. “I can’t go if I’m nervous, or if there’s people around me, or—“
“But, you stand outside to guard all day. You go on marches. You—“
“I have to hold it a lot,” Kenneth said.
“How often do you go normally?”
“Usually twice a day, sometimes three times if I get the chance.”
“Paulson, that isn’t good. You should be voiding your bladder at least six times per day.”
Kenneth couldn’t remember ever having that many opportunities to go before in a single day. It sounded unfathomable to him to pee that often. How did anyone have the time for that? “That’s too much,” he said.
“No, it’s not,” Elizabeth said. “You’re… You’re saying that you are physically unable to go, right? You are not making yourself hold it?”
“No, if I COULD go, I would,” Kenneth said. “I just can’t.”
“That isn’t good,” Elizabeth repeated. “When you last voided your bladder after not going for so long, did it hurt?”
“It stung a little,” Kenneth said. “And…I couldn’t… My stream was kind of weak. It took a long time. And I’m sore now.”
“You may have an infection,” Elizabeth said. “Paulson, please don’t do that to yourself again.”
“I couldn’t help it,” Kenneth said, trying not to get frustrated. “I already told you!”
“Come,” Elizabeth instructed. Kenneth followed her into the medical building. She led him to the room Dwight was resting in. Kenneth finally felt the tension draining from his body and released an incredibly long overdue sigh of relief. Dwight looked okay. The color had returned to his face and he was sitting up.
Kenneth rushed over to him, just needing to be next to him.
Elizabeth opened the cabinet and began to look through it. She retrieved a hot water bottle and a few pills. She had intended to give these things to Kenneth and instruct him to rest in his barrack for the next several days while drinking plenty of water and emptying his bladder as soon as the need arose to help heal the infection he doubtlessly had. But, from her limited understanding of what had just happened to him, apparently being separated from Dwight while the latter recovered had played a role in Kenneth’s inability to void himself. Keeping the two apart seemed like it would worsen Kenneth’s condition. Maybe just letting the two of them be near each other was the ‘medicine’ they both needed…
There was a second bed in this room. And, now Kenneth actually had something that required treatment. “Paulson, lay there,” she instructed. She went over to the sink to fill the water bottle before giving it to him. “Put this where you are sore, take the medications, drink lots of water,” she rattled off. “And, when you need to relieve yourself, do it as soon as you can…” She opened the cabinet again and made sure there was a decent supply of urinal bottles inside it. “Bottles are here. Just stay here and rest. With Smith.”
After Elizabeth left, Kenneth laid down in the bed, and placed the hot water bottle over his middle. Some of the soreness did ebb away then. He felt better, especially since Dwight was right across from him where he belonged again.
“What was that about?” Dwight asked.
Kenneth shamefully explained how the last twenty four hours had gone, how he’d been so completely unable to pee and had ultimately wet his pants when his body finally gave out.
Dwight didn’t make fun of him, he didn’t laugh at him or tease him. “You were that worried about me?”
“Of course I was,” Kenneth said. “You’re my…” he paused. “You’re…” He wasn’t even sure what Dwight was to him. He hadn’t been for a long time. “You’re my everything,” he finished at last.
Dwight wanted to stand up and go to Kenneth’s bed to hold him. But, knew he still couldn’t do much walking. Kenneth could come to him though. “Kenneth, can I hug you?”
Kenneth stood and walked to Dwight’s bed, gently sitting down on it so as not to agitate Dwight’s hurt legs. Dwight sat up as much as he could, and drew Kenneth to him. Kenneth sighed again at the calming sound of Dwight’s heartbeat against his ear. He wanted to stay there in his arms forever.
But, he couldn’t.
Kenneth definitely had another infection, because he suddenly felt a sharp, intense urge to pee hit him with no warning at all. “Dwight, I need to relieve myself…” he said. There was apprehension in his voice. What if it happened again? What if that horrific, intense, nonstop torture was going to be forever now and he’d only ever be able to pee when his body just broke and gave up?
“Go get the bottle,” Dwight said. “Then come back to me. You can do it here.”
Kenneth did as Dwight said, and a few minutes later he was sat on Dwight’s bed, aiming into the bottle and Dwight was rubbing his back. Right away, a stream pulsed out. An actual stream, too. Nice and solid and heavy. It stung a lot coming out, but that did little to erase the relief Kenneth felt. “Phew, it’s working…” he murmured.
Dwight increased the speed of his strokes against Kenneth’s back. “There you go,” he said. “All better. I’m here now.” |
Kenneth eventually recovered from his infection. Elizabeth took good care of him, but she couldn’t quite make sense of it. She’d at first been concerned that Kenneth had some sort of blockage, she’d worried he had kidney stones, or a urethral stricture. She was certain that Kenneth’s problem must have had a physical cause that he’d been unaware of. But, that was not the case. Kenneth’s problem was entirely psychological, and that was something Elizabeth had never seen before. She’d never had a patient that was unable to urinate without having something physically wrong with them, she hadn’t even known someone’s bladder could get plugged up without such a problem.
But, Kenneth’s body was working exactly as it was supposed to, it was just the brain controlling it that had an issue. That was a bit outside of anything Elizabeth knew how to heal. She could bandage and sew up wounds. She could give pain killers. She couldn’t chip away at deep-seated psychological scars.
And, while she didn’t really think it was her place, she was also concerned about the apparent dependence he and Dwight had upon each other. Dwight would insist his wounds hurt too bad to try walking one minute, then Kenneth would ask him to come to him and suddenly Dwight would be able to move with ease. Kenneth clearly needed Dwight near him even to perform a basic, biological function like urination. Elizabeth didn’t know if she should say anything about it, the way they cared for one another was honestly sweet and even a little heartwarming, but at the same time they didn’t seem to know how to function when separated. She wasn’t so sure if that was healthy.
Recovery was hard for Kenneth. He didn’t like having to talk with Elizabeth about how he was feeling each day. He didn’t like having to describe the level of pain he felt each time he urinated. He didn’t like having to inform her of how many times he’d urinate in a given day, or how much trouble he’d had getting it to come out. He didn’t like having to drink extra water, making his irritated bladder demand to be emptied even more often, and prompting more discussions about it. He didn’t like any of it.
Kenneth hated the way the infection made him feel. Loathe as he was to admit it, his hated shy bladder had an incredible silver lining; Since he often held it to the point of extreme urgency, whenever he managed to get relief, to empty himself after hours of squirming and discomfort, it would feel nothing short of Heavenly. Agony transforming into spine-tingling pleasure in one split second.
But, with the infection, that wasn’t the case. Instead of a build up of need over the course of several hours, he would be crossing his legs and scrambling for a bottle with very little warning over and over, each time growing more certain that he was going to have an accident. And, when it came out, he did not feel the euphoric, steady bliss of his liquids draining away, pressure receding and leaving him feeling nothing but light emptiness. He felt something completely different; He felt like he was peeing out bee-stingers and gun powder. He felt like tiny fires were being set all along the insides of his most sensitive parts. His urethra would ignite and burn with fury, sometimes so intensely he would start to tear up a little.
Dwight actually felt bad each time he helped coax Kenneth’s bladder into loosening and surrendering its contents, because it was obvious that Kenneth felt no relief from the process, only pain. Dwight had to do it, though. If Kenneth held his bladder for any real length of time, he would only get worse. A few times, Dwight noticed Kenneth was trying to do exactly that, to restrain his pee within his body until the need became too intense to withstand all so he could avoid the hot, stinging fire he felt each time it glided through his pipes. Dwight had to call him out on it; “Kenneth, I know it hurts when you relieve yourself, but you won’t get better by holding it.”
Kenneth never denied that he had to go, at least. But, he did try to insist it was okay to keep waiting. “Dwight, it feels like I’m pissing acid!” he would say.
Dwight would wince at the mental image, apologize, and tell Kenneth that he would KEEP on feeling that way if he didn’t do what he had to do to get better. Eventually, Kenneth would relent, feeling too feverish and tired to put up much of a fight— His usually short-tempered and argumentative friend failing to raise his voice or prolong the discussion would actually make Dwight’s worry build, even as glad he was that Kenneth wasn’t making himself hold it any longer.
Each time Dwight saw Kenneth’s eyes growing shiny with tears as he whimpered and let out short gushing bursts into a urinal bottle, Dwight’s heart would ache for him. Dwight was so used to having Kenneth turn into putty in his arms when they did this, to having Kenneth moan and shudder and pant with ecstasy at the sheer relief of it all. To see Kenneth fight back tears and let out tiny, mewling whines from the back of his throat instead… Dwight could barely stand it.
Kenneth did get better eventually though, and so did Dwight. Both of their conditions improved dramatically once they were together again, and eventually they were able to resume their work. Kenneth was worried about seeing Bryce again, certain the other had found out what had happened to him somehow and was going to taunt him for it. But, he didn’t. He seemed convinced that Kenneth had actually come down with Pneumonia, and asked several times if Kenneth was breathing alright again. So, Kenneth figured he didn’t actually know what happened after all. That was a relief.
Bryce kept up his new habit of checking in with Kenneth and telling him to go back to his barrack and pee when he was getting squirmy. It continued to make Kenneth a little uncomfortable— Being doted on by Bryce, even if only for a few seconds at a time, felt just plain wrong to Kenneth. Kenneth tried to take breaks when they were offered, however. He was scared that the infection would return to him again and he would once more feel that awful stinging burn each time he emptied his bladder.
Sometimes, when Kenneth took a break and tried to pee before it became a major emergency, he still struggled to get his flow started. Even sheltered away in the nice, private restroom where he’d relieved himself easily so many times before, there was something in him that continued to shout that he was not ALLOWED to pee until he really, really had to go, and his faucet would remain closed. There were, however, occasions now where Kenneth would lock himself away into his blessed privacy, unzip, and release a bladder that was only just starting to feel uncomfortable. Those times, it was hard not to feel the shame that had been tattooed into his brain; The shame that told him that if his stream only lasted forty five seconds, that meant he’d gone too soon and was wasting time.
When Dwight saw him returning from one such pee, he asked his friend why he looked so nervous, and Kenneth was forced to try to explain himself. Dwight had to hide his dismay that his friend considered peeing for ‘only forty five seconds’ to be a sign that he should have held it even longer…
There came a day shortly after Dwight and Kenneth recovered that things went wrong for Kenneth once more. They shouldn’t have, really. He’d taken every precaution. He’d peed right before he left his barrack, he’d limited his fluid intake in anticipation of the time he’d be spending away from it. He’d done everything he was supposed to.
But, nevertheless, as the other guards ate their meals, Kenneth just sat in his chair at the table, wriggling this way and that with an urgent need to relieve himself. They did this sometimes, a large group of the guards would go out to a restaurant and have a nice feast together. Dwight loved these nights, but Kenneth did not. Usually, when enough of the guards got together outside of work like this, it meant a lot of alcohol. The scent would flood Kenneth’s senses and make all the hairs on his neck stand up on end.
He knew, of course, that his Father was not going to spontaneously come back to life and appear out of nowhere to attack him. He knew the smell of booze was not caused by his Father and that he was not in danger, but that didn’t make the alarm bells stop ringing in his head anyway.
Tonight, however, the alarm bells weren’t only coming from his head. They were coming from his bladder too, informing him that it was beginning to get critically full. He’d never been to this restaurant before, he didn’t know what the restroom was like. Maybe it would actually be usable. He allowed himself this hope as he stood gingerly from his seat. The surge of liquid that immediately slammed into his sphincters told him that he’d better pray he could piss here, because there was no way he’d make it all the way back to his barrack uninjured.
He located the room he needed to visit pretty quickly. His hopes began to plummet when he realized that it was not single-occupancy. Kenneth had had a little luck using single-use toilets in public in the past. It wasn’t easy, but if he needed to go badly enough and no one knocked on the door, eventually he’d manage to let go of his burden.
His trips into multi-stall restrooms had been far less fruitful.
Still, the cramping in his center made him venture into the room anyway. If there was a chance, however minuscule, that he’d be able to empty himself here, he was going to take it. The restroom was spacious, at least. The ceiling was high, and there was a huge row of stalls, more than he’d ever seen before. On the opposite side were the urinals. The sinks were located in their own, adjoining room.
It was like Kenneth had designed the room himself.
Normally, men’s restrooms had very few stalls and the urinals were located in a way that made the user’s reflection visible to anyone washing their hands. But, here the sinks were in a separate area, and the stalls were plentiful. There weren’t even any gaps in the stall doors, and they reached very low to the ground.
Kenneth felt a surge of confidence as he hurried into a stall. He could do it here. He really could. He could pee. He could pee right here, right now, get rid of this awful pressure inside him. He could pee in a public place, he could do it. He really could. He kept up this litany of positivity as he unbuttoned and took down his zipper, pulling out his aching penis and aiming.
Nothing happened.
Kenneth did not panic. He’d learned long ago not to panic when his stream didn’t show itself immediately. It was okay if it took a few seconds. It was normal. It didn’t mean he was frozen up. He just had to be patient. It… Felt like the pee was up to his ribcage, but that didn’t mean he had to freak out just because it wasn’t coming out yet. He could do this. He could.
Nothing happened.
Kenneth’s jaw spasmed with frustration. He was alone in this enormous room, concealed so thoroughly by the door of the stall. He mashed the flat of his palm into his abdomen, the pain emanating in harsh ripples beneath it was excruciating, but still no pee. Standing there, twitching needfully with his dick in his hand, he saw himself as the scared child with his unsteady, drunken Father screaming at him to pee on command. He saw himself as the pathetic man of a few weeks ago, curled in a ball and crying as pee burned through his plugged up urethra to soak his pants. He thought of bolting from the stall, retrieving Dwight from the table and ordering him to assist, but just the fact that Kenneth needed that— That he needed Dwight there just so he could pee, caused explosions of shame to rip through his mind.
“Come on…” Kenneth mumbled to himself. “Come on, please… I have to…”
Then, he heard someone enter the restroom. He tried to ignore the person and focus only on the task at hand. Again, Kenneth wondered how in the world he could NEED to do something SO badly, and then find himself unable to do it the instant he was able.
He heard the pitter-patter of small shoes on the ground, followed by louder steps. “Come on, Heather, time to pee.”
“But, I don’t have to, Daddy.”
“You need to try. It’s a long walk back home, okay?” Kenneth heard the stall next to his open and shut. “Come on, Heather. Let me help you.” Kenneth heard some clothing rustling. “Now hurry up and pee, we don’t have all day.”
‘Hurry up and pee.’
Kenneth’s urethra welded itself shut.
“But, Daddy, I can’t go,” the little girl’s light voice stated.
“You have to do it now,” the man replied. He wasn’t yelling at Heather. He wasn’t berating her. He wasn’t shouting at her and demanding to know what was wrong with her and why she couldn’t go. Still, everything Kenneth heard filled him with an inescapable anxiety. He tried to block out the conversation, tried to focus on what he came here to do.
‘Think of oceans, Kenneth,’ he told himself. ‘Nice, sparkling oceans. You’re finally on the beach and it’s so quiet. All you can hear are the waves lapping at the shore. No one is around for miles, you can just pee in the sand, listening to the splashing water…’
“You need to go now,” the man in the next stall was beginning to grow impatient.
“I don’t have to!”
Anger rose in Kenneth’s chest. He’d felt this so many times before; the fury igniting through his body, flaming up in his esophagus until it bubbled out in a shout, followed by a kick to whatever was closest to him. He wasn’t sure what would explode first, his rage or his bladder.
‘Calm… Calm…’ Kenneth told himself. ‘Don’t let it happen here… Think of the ocean. The waves. Nice, soothing water, flowing.’
“Just do it!” the man snapped out.
Kenneth’s eyes were scrunched shut, he put the hand he wasn’t using to aim against the wall of the stall. He began slapping it, softly at first and then harder and louder. His teeth were grinding. A shout was pounding against the backs of them. He could barely hold in his anger, if only he could have said the same thing for his pee, which still remained locked in place behind scared and stubborn little muscles. The man kept arguing with his daughter as Kenneth bobbed in place and held his breath until he thought he may pass out.
“Do it. You have to.”
‘SHUT UP BEFORE I TEAR OFF YOUR ARMS AND BEAT YOU WITH THEM!’ Kenneth’s jaw was spasming now, he swore he felt veins pulsing in his neck as every muscle in his body grew heavy with tension.
Then, he heard a stream trickling into water. But, it wasn’t his.
“Good, Heather,” her Dad said.
The sound continued for a few seconds, just long enough to taunt Kenneth’s bladder and make it spasm and shriek with the desire to let go as well. Kenneth punched his fist against the wall. ‘If you want to piss so freaking bad, why the Hell won’t you let me!?’ he felt ridiculous, having a mental argument with his own bladder.
He heard the man and his daughter begin to leave a few moments later. Once they were gone, Kenneth tried again to get his stream to come. But, it didn’t. He was too warm, too tense, too angry. He felt like he’d burst, and not just from his full bladder.
He took pinched, wilted steps back to the table that smelled like beer and other forms of alcohol. He sat down in his chair and fought not to double over at the way his belt squeezed into his bladder. His teeth were still clenched, if he let his jaw relaxed the scream he’d been holding back would erupt from his lips and everyone would stare at him and wonder what in the world had him so pissed.
Pissed.
Right.
That’s what he was. He was pissed. He was pissed from head to toe. He was made of piss, and none of it could come out, be it through his mouth or through his urethra. It all had to stay where it was, locked up in his body, even as it drove him crazier and crazier.
Buildings should have private scream-rooms people could go into when it felt like their heads were going to blow up. Kenneth would definitely get more use out of that than he’d ever managed to get out of a public toilet.
He was angry at that stupid guy and his stupid kid and their stupid voices and their stupid ability to pee in public… Kenneth looked around the restaurant. He was sure everyone here could pee in that restroom. They could all pee whenever and wherever they had to. And they didn’t even know how good they had it. He decided he hated them. How dare they all get to be relaxed and comfortable and not have to worry about staying out for too long every single time they go anywhere? How dare they get to drink however much they need to to quench their thirst? How dare they not have to spend days feeling like shit and having pain fire through their pipes every time they urinated because their bodies betrayed them so totally? How dare they?
Dwight had been engrossed in his meal for so long he didn’t notice Kenneth’s obvious discomfort until he felt his friend accidentally kick his shin beneath the table. “Kenneth, watch ou—“ He stopped, registering the pained distress on Kenneth’s face. His eyes drifted downwards to Kenneth’s tense thighs and the hands pressing between them. “Come on, Kenneth,” Dwight said. “I’ll get you sorted out.”
Kenneth whimpered. He shouldn’t have NEEDED Dwight to sort him out. He should have been able to do it himself just fine! Kenneth didn’t know why he suddenly felt so much more ashamed of himself for needing this. He knew Dwight held the keys to relief, and he knew he needed relief very, very much. He stood when Dwight prompted him to and followed his friend back towards the restrooms.
When Dwight saw the restrooms here were multi-stall, he understood why Kenneth was having trouble, but also didn’t think he could help him out here. If someone noticed they were sharing a stall, then that person would get the wrong idea.
Kenneth stood close beside Dwight as his friend thought of what to do. Kenneth’s knees were knocking against one another, his feet stomping into the floor as he trembled with need. His eyes turned watery as another huge wave of desperation hit him. He knew that he was reaching the threshold. Something had to give. Either he’d pee, wet his pants, or suffer another injury to his body; A body that he had no way of controlling and which seemed to be determined to hurt itself despite his pleading with it to stop.
Kenneth’s bladder was full. Beyond capacity. He could not hold it much longer and he had to pee.
“Let’s go outside,” Dwight decided. “I’ve got you.”
Kenneth grimaced as he took slow, contorted steps after his friend. These situations, these bouts of inescapable desperation, were the only times when Dwight took charge of Kenneth. It was supposed to be the other way around. Kenneth was the leader, Kenneth was the one who made all the plans and directed Dwight on how to carry them out. But, when Kenneth had to pee really badly, Dwight had to be the one to figure everything out.
Dwight paused at the table to whisper something into Bryce’s ear. Kenneth tried to hear it, but wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know what was being said about him. His bladder had become such a problem that it was a regular topic of conversation amongst those he was even a little close to. He knew Dwight was telling Bryce that he needed to go. He knew Dwight was telling Bryce that he couldn’t go and needed help.
Kenneth’s bladder and sphincters were aching with the tremendous need for relief. His holding muscles throbbed violently, trying their hardest to push out all the liquid he was containing. But, he held it back with all his strength, leaning forward, rocking back, tapping his feet, bouncing. None of it helped take the edge off his need. And, he felt ridiculous doing any of it to start with. He knew he couldn’t void in a crowded dining room full of people, so he knew he would not have an accident. All his pee-dancing did was inform everyone around him that he was full to bursting. All his pee-dancing did was add to his growing sense of shame.
After a moment, Dwight was leading Kenneth out of the building, across the street and into a shop. Kenneth was miserable the whole walk there. He was bursting beyond belief, all he wanted was to pee, he’d do anything for it. Anything to just be able to take a long, forceful piss into a toilet. Once they were in the shop, Dwight was swiftly escorting Kenneth to the small restroom in the back. He locked the door behind the both of them. “Okay, nice and quiet here,” he said. “You can do it.”
Kenneth said nothing, just quickly got himself in front of the toilet and unzipped. Dwight was a little concerned by Kenneth’s silence. Kenneth was rarely ever quiet; Even when he was asleep, he was making noise, either snoring loudly or muttering to himself. Normally, when they did this, Kenneth was ‘ordering’ him to help. ‘Demanding’ assistance in an effort to reclaim some of the sense of control he lost every time his body disobeyed him.
But now, he was silent.
Dwight wondered for a second if Kenneth’s sullenness was because he’d already peed; That he’d lost control and had an accident. But, Dwight knew that couldn’t have been it. He would have definitely noticed if Kenneth was peeing, it would have been loud and violently forceful. And, even if Kenneth wasn’t shouting orders at Dwight to help him piss, he was bouncing up and down with obvious need. Clearly, he still really had to go…
Dwight decided not to question it until after Kenneth was emptied. He put his hands on Kenneth’s shoulders and began to rub. “You’re okay,” he said. “I’m here. Just relax…” He carried on with this for several minutes, much longer than it usually took, and that made Dwight’s concern grow.
Finally, there was a spurt of liquid hitting the toilet. Then another. And another. And then a stream. Kenneth finally confirmed that his vocal cords still functioned when a moan of relief fell from his lips. Shivers assailed his body then, and Dwight tightened his grip on his shoulders to help him stay standing upright. Dwight exhaled a relieved breath of his own.
As usual, a lot of liquid came out of Kenneth. Dwight didn’t think he’d ever stop feeling shocked and worried by the amount of piss that poured out of his friend’s body, no matter how many times he bore witness to Kenneth voiding himself of his full capacity. Dwight kept stroking Kenneth’s back, feeling him shuddering with relief beneath his fingers. Kenneth was breathing heavily as his stream finally wound down and ceased flowing. He sighed again as he zipped up. Then, just stood there.
“All done?” Dwight asked. “All better now?”
Kenneth didn’t answer.
“Are you okay?” Dwight asked, now worried that Kenneth wasn’t over his infection after all. The way Kenneth was moaning, Dwight didn’t think it had burned coming out, but… “Did it hurt?”
Kenneth shook his head.
“What’s the—“
“Dwight, what the Hell is wrong with me?” Kenneth asked.
“Nothing,” Dwight said quickly.
“I shouldn’t need… Why can’t I be normal?!” Kenneth said, finally letting the rage he’d been feeling for so long burst forth. “I shouldn’t need HELP pissing! It’s freaking PISSING! A baby can do it no problem!”
“Kenneth,” Dwight said, trying to keep his tone even and neutral. He’d learned that using a soothing, soft tone of voice when Kenneth worked himself up into one of his fits only served to stoke his anger. “You can’t help this. You know that.”
“It’s not fair!” Kenneth snapped out. “I hate having to live with this! Every day, I have to worry about it! I’m sick of it! Nobody else does!” He spun around and kicked the wall.
Dwight stepped back. “Other people get pee-shy,” he said.
“Not like I do!” Kenneth insisted. “Other people… freeze up sometimes. I’m so screwed up that I break my body and end up needing medical attention! It’s not the same thing!”
“This isn’t your fault,” Dwight said. “You did nothing to cause this. It’s just that stuff your Dad did that’s—“
“Why did he hate me so much, Dwight?” Kenneth asked, softer now. His eyes were welling up. “What did I ever do to him?”
Dwight didn’t know how to answer. “You didn’t do anything… You didn’t deserve—“
“I must have,” Kenneth said, and then he broke down. He cried to Dwight about Heather, and her Dad, and how even when he started to lose his patience, he still hadn’t yelled at her. He hadn’t called her names, he hadn’t demanded to know what was wrong with her, he hadn’t hit her. He’d just used a stern tone of voice, nothing more.
Dwight held Kenneth and rubbed his back as he cried. It wasn’t fair, how his Father could still have this hold over his mind and body even so long after his death. Kenneth’s Father was gone now, but in a way he was still in control, he still had the power to cork up Kenneth’s bladder, he still had the power to make Kenneth cry, he still had the power to make Kenneth hate himself.
Dwight didn’t know how to make any of that better, so he just kept holding his friend, just kept stroking him gently, just kept telling him that it was okay and that he hadn’t deserved the mistreatment he’d gone through. Once Kenneth was all cried out, Dwight helped him wash his face off a little at the sink. “It’s okay that you need help,” Dwight said once more. “And it’s not your fault that you need it. Maybe one day you won’t need me to help you pee, but until that happens I’ll always be here for you, okay?”
Kenneth felt a little bit better, he looked at himself in the mirror, trying to make out if it was obvious he’d been crying. His nose was a little red still, but that was it. “Do not tell anyone,” he said to Dwight. “That I…” he couldn’t even bring himself to say the word ‘cried’, it made him feel so intolerably weak.
“I won’t,” Dwight promised. |
Dwight was not supposed to disrespect The Leader’s private villa in any way. He was meant to present himself with the most respectable appearance he could manage. He was absolutely not allowed to damage anything, even by accident. He had to be very, very careful. No spilling things, no crashing into things, no being clumsy, or loud, or talking out of turn.
He was certainly not supposed to pee anywhere other than into a toilet at The Leader’s private villa. He’d broken the rule twice before, once by peeing his pants and soaking the rug below his feet the first time he met The Leader, and again when he’d been unable to wait for his turn in the restroom and had needed to flood a vase instead. He’d only narrowly managed to clean the vase out before anyone important saw what he’d done to it.
Of course, it wasn’t as though Dwight had WANTED to do either of those things, it was just that he could only hold so much for so long, and it had needed to come out! On this visit, he’d thought he wouldn’t have such problems again. He’d decided he’d go use the restroom as soon as he had to, in order to avoid any emergencies that would necessitate him urinating somewhere inappropriate. But, Dwight could make as many plans as he wanted, and that wouldn’t have made a difference.
The guest restroom was experiencing plumbing issues and was off limits until it could be repaired. Dwight, Kenneth and Bryce were all informed it should only take a couple hours and then they’d be free to use it, but the thing was Dwight didn’t really HAVE a couple hours left to spare. The train they’d ridden in on had lacked toilet facilities, the restroom at the station had had a line that stretched out the door, and they were already running late so Dwight couldn’t get in line or stop off anywhere along the way.
By the time he’d arrived at the villa, Dwight had hardly even been able to breathe past the pulsating misery inside his core. He’d been BEYOND ready to dash to that restroom and unload all the fluid he’d been forced to cart around for so long. Now that he knew he couldn’t actually do that, and wouldn’t be able to actually do that for HOURS, he felt even closer to his bursting point.
Dwight was certain his companions must have been feeling a bit of the urge to go as well, but neither of them were showing much need so they must not have been in as dire of a state as he was. Dwight was definitely showing his need, he hadn’t managed to stay still for one second since they’d arrived. He was resting on a couch beside Kenneth, occasionally shooting longing glances towards the restroom door. But, perhaps ‘resting’ was the wrong word to use, because no part of Dwight’s body was at rest. His toes tapped, his knees bounced, his hips shimmied and his nails dug into the material of the sofa. He looked utterly pained, struggling to withstand the massive pressure inside himself.
Kenneth hadn’t needed to be told what was troubling his friend so much, it was blatantly obvious. It had been obvious since back when they were on the train and Dwight had been shifting uncomfortably every few minutes. It had been obvious since they’d gotten off of it, found the massive line for the toilet and Dwight’s face had flashed white with panic. It had been obvious since they’d walked through town and Dwight had needed to pause every few minutes to cross his legs and do a few quick bounces.
It was more obvious than ever now, though.
“It will be fixed soon,” Kenneth said softly. But, he knew that wasn’t the case. Two hours was a long time, and it would feel even longer to someone that was nursing a very, very full bladder. “You can hold it.”
Dwight shook his head back and forth quickly. He felt it was nothing short of a miracle that he wasn’t already sitting in a puddle of his own making. His thighs were straining, pinning his aching cock between them as his bladder screeched for release. Dwight tended to be pretty vocal when he needed to relieve his bladder. When Dwight had to pee, everyone around him quickly became well aware of his problem because he couldn’t help but whimper, whine and groan with need.
“Oh, gotta pee…” Dwight muttered, his knees rubbing together. “I gotta pee so bad… Ohhh, I can’t hold it…”
Bryce had been pacing back and forth in front of them. Dwight had a bit of a suspicion that he had to go pretty badly as well, considering how unusually restless he was being. “Smith,” Bryce said. “Stop whining and stop fidgeting like that. You cannot let The Leader see you behaving so childishly!”
“I can’t help it! I have to pee SO bad!” Dwight whined out. If he stopped moving, even for a second, he knew he’d break apart at the seams. His body would collapse in on itself and wave after wave of urine would spill forth in an instant. “And The Leader is not even here right now!”
“You should straighten up when he DOES get here,” Bryce warned. He stopped his pacing rather abruptly and his legs turned inwards ever so slightly.
“Nnnnh… Ooooh… Gotta peeee…Maybe The Leader will let us use his private toilet?” Dwight suggested. His hands were now fisted in the material of his shirt, twisting it around nervously. He suddenly became aware of a dampness that had gathered between his clenched thighs, and he really, REALLY hoped it was just sweat.
Bryce took a couple seconds too long to answer. “Do not be ridiculous. You cannot ask him for that, it would be disrespectful. Hold it, practice some discipline for once in your life.”
Dwight thought he practiced ‘discipline’ perfectly well a lot of the time. But, how could he ‘discipline’ his bladder? It was full! And no amount of ‘discipline’ was going to change that or make it any easier to hold in. “Don’t you have to go?” he asked.
“There is nowhere for me TO go,” Bryce replied.
“That is not what I asked,” Dwight said.
“I would… LIKE to take a piss,” Bryce said. “But, there’s nowhere for me to do that, so I will wait. You must do the same thing.”
Dwight didn’t think he could! His mind began to play over and over the wondrous sensation of letting go… But it would repeatedly end with a sharp pinching at the base of his cock and not relief. It was like his bladder was nudging at him and whispering ‘Remember this? Don’t you want to do this? You need to do this. Let’s go do this now.’ He tried to make himself stop thinking about it. But, of course, trying not to think about something only made him think about it more. Especially when that thing was constantly driving painful reminders through his body. His hands detached themselves from the sofa and dove between his thighs. He squeezed his penis so tightly it started to hurt and tears came to his eyes, but he thought the pain was still preferable over unleashing his flood here.
But, even with the aid of his hands, Dwight wasn’t sure how much time he had left. He just wasn’t that good at holding it. Since he wasn’t the least bit shy about urination and was willing to do it right out in the open if necessary, and in whatever container was available, he just didn’t hold it that often. The only times he held it were when he knew Kenneth also needed to go and Dwight felt it would be mean to relieve himself while his bladder-shy friend suffered, or when there were literally zero options for release. Like right now, when he would be in trouble for peeing in anything other than a toilet, and the only toilet was out of bounds to him. “Ohhhh, I can’t hold it!” he moaned. “Oh my God, oh my God… I need to peeeee!”
“Shut up!” Bryce commanded, and Dwight jumped, losing a spurt but not before noticing the way Bryce’s toes had turned in towards one another.
Dwight should have tried harder to convince Bryce to let him pee at the train station, or anywhere else along their walk here. The Leader himself was late to greet them, so the two minutes it would have taken Dwight to relieve his bladder wouldn’t have mattered! He could have waited in that stupidly long line at the station, and gotten himself to a toilet!
Ugh. Dwight had to stop thinking about places with toilets. That was only making it worse. He was not in a place with a toilet. He was stuck somewhere without one. So, no peeing. No thinking about peeing. He just had to pretend that he didn’t have to pee. “Okay,” he said. “Don’t have to pee. Don’t have to pee. Don’t have to pee…”
But, no matter how many times Dwight recited those words under his breath, they never managed to come true. He was as full as full could get! His bladder was screaming at him to find it something— anything— to empty out into and he had to clamp down hard on his muscles to quiet its whining. ‘I can’t! I have to wait!’ He was dancing up a storm in his seat, gripping and squeezing at himself, bouncing up and down. He was overcome by an awful trembling in his urethra, followed by the tiniest spurt of wetness. It wasn’t much, probably just a few drops. Nowhere near enough to show. Nowhere near enough to make his bladder feel less like it was going to pop. But still, enough to terrify him.
‘Oh, God… I can’t hold it, I can’t hold it! I’m going to pee all over the couch!’
The thought was horrifying and suddenly the most real thing in the world. His hold on himself tightened. ‘Stop thinking like that,’ he ordered himself. ‘You can make it. It has to get fixed soon. You’ll be able to go in there, unzip, and—‘
Following the direction of his thoughts, Dwight’s bladder squeezed downwards. This spurt was larger than the last one, he felt a slight dampness against the hands he had crammed against his crotch. It took three full seconds to clamp it off. Three awful, terrifying seconds.
He felt Kenneth’s hand then. He felt Kenneth’s hand on his thigh. Rubbing. Rubbing very tenderly… “Dwight…” he said softly. “It’s—“
“You are touching me,” Dwight squeaked. “Bryce is—“
Kenneth didn’t move his hand away, “Shhh…”
Dwight whimpered at the sound, which was much too close to the sound of pee hitting porcelain. “Ah, don’t!” Dwight let go of his cock for a second to unclasp his belt, sighing slightly. He hadn’t even realized how harshly that thing had been cutting into his bladder this whole time. Freedom from that pressure felt good… But, the release was vaguely similar to the sensation of actually peeing, and within a few seconds, his urge was right back where it was. He frantically tried to come up with other ways to lessen the pressure. The only thing he could do was unfasten the button on his pants, that gave his bladder a little extra space, but it wasn’t enough. He realized that the only thing that would make him feel even the tiniest bit better would be to PEE, but that was out of the question.
He tried to focus on the feeling of Kenneth’s hand against his leg, but the strain of holding his own bladder overshadowed the pleasant sensations of Kenneth’s touch. Then, Kenneth drew his hand away and Dwight felt worse. But, when Kenneth spoke he realized why he’d stopped touching him. “Bryce,” Kenneth called. “Perhaps we could go outside to wait instead?”
Bryce abruptly stopped pacing, then jiggled up and down for a second. “Out—Outside? Why?”
“It would be nicer, I think,” Kenneth said.
“Alright,” Bryce said. “But, only for a few minutes. And no… No making a mess anywhere.”
Dwight felt better for a second, hoping he may find some way to relieve himself outdoors. But, he hadn’t really thought it through all the way. To get into The Leader’s garden outside, he was going to have to stand up and walk. He’d been on the couch for so long that his legs were asleep, so standing wouldn’t have been easy anyway, let alone when his bladder was threatening to turn the room into a swimming pool. Gingerly, so, so gingerly, he eased himself up. Suddenly, it was like he was fighting against gravity as that awful feeling of squeezing assaulted his bladder once more. He didn’t dare move his hands from between his legs. He didn’t care if Bryce saw him holding himself anymore, it was better than Bryce seeing him have an accident.
He hobbled on weak, contorted legs to the back door, whispering to Kenneth. “Th—Thank you..” Jeez, talking hurt. Breathing hurt. Everything hurt. Dwight was going to burst if he didn’t get all this liquid out of himself right now!
Once outside, Dwight just stood there, focusing entirely on not turning the garden into a lake. He danced from foot to foot, his hands crushed between his thighs. He must have looked a sight.
Looking at Bryce, he wasn’t doing much better. He was almost doubled over, legs winding around each other.
Just as Dwight started to feel a third spurt dribble from his tip, Kenneth took his arm and started to lead him off. Each step made a couple more drops slide into Dwight’s boxers as he puffed out sharp breaths. Kenneth had brought him to a cluster of large bushes. “Okay, if you hide in there and… I guess kinda crouch down, you won’t be spotted. I’ll stand here and keep watch for anybody, alright?”
Dwight nodded right away and bolted into the bushes like he was running from a werewolf. If he stayed standing up, he could still see above the bushes a little, so that meant any servants in the garden would be able to see him. Kenneth was right, he was going to need to crouch. Since his belt and buttons were already undone, he just needed to unzip and allow his pants to drop down and pool around his ankles. As he lowered himself into a squat, more or less pinning his opening shut with his hand as he crouched down, he felt a little weird. He’d never peed in this position before in his life. He was always either standing upright, or seated on a toilet. Never like this.
The position put extra pressure onto his bladder and made it feel like it was starting to tear. He began to dribble into the dirt, but didn’t allow himself to unclench. He kept looking down at himself, trying to ensure that once he started spraying, it wouldn’t spatter his legs or shoes. He tried to actually aim his dick, but could only maintain his balance if he kept his hands atop his knees.
He was nervous to let go, scared of making a huge mess of himself, but within a second, his body had decided for him. Before he even realized he was peeing, a puddle was forming below him. He felt a few errant drops patter the side of one of his boots, but he didn’t have it in him to feel bad about it. He couldn’t feel bad about anything when he felt this good. He was finally peeing like he’d been dying to for so long. “Mmmm…” he couldn’t help murmuring a pleased little hum at the sensation of hours of suffering and torment coming at last to a heavenly end. God… How could it feel so good just to PEE? “Phew…” he exhaled through his mouth. His spine was tingling and his eyes even rolled back in his head a little, a relaxed smile overtaking his face.
His stream was spraying rather loudly, and that concerned him slightly. Sure, nobody should be able to see him in his hiding place, but someone may wonder why these bushes were suddenly hissing so much… Hopefully, Kenneth was still the only one close enough to hear him going.
When he heard whispering from the other side of the leaves, Dwight knew Kenneth wasn’t alone anymore, though.
“Is Smith pissing back there?” Bryce demanded.
“He was going to have an accident,” Kenneth replied, annoyed. “Would you rather him go THERE or all over The Leader’s couch?”
“Th—That is absolutely unacceptable!” Bryce began to bounce. The sound of Dwight’s high pressure stream blasting the dirt was like a fist to his own bladder. He allowed his hands to wrap themselves around his dick, his hands now feeling like the only things keeping the ground beneath his boots dry. He heard Dwight sighing and his traitorous mind forced him to imagine how good Dwight must have been feeling, how absolutely incredible it was for him to let all that go…. “He is not to urinate on The Leader’s propert—“ His legs tangled up even more when Dwight’s release somehow picked up in intensity. “Oooh!—Once he’s finished, keep watch for me too, okay?”
“Alright,” Kenneth said, rolling his eyes. “You’re going to need to crouch down to go though, I think…”
“I don’t care,” Bryce said. “I’m verging on a medical emergency here.”
Dwight’s firehose finally stopped blasting after a couple minutes. Feeling almost lightheaded, Dwight reached to shake himself off, then stood and pulled his pants back up, trying to catch his breath he dizzily left the cover of the bushes, and was practically shoved over by Bryce hurling himself behind them. As he stood himself beside Kenneth, he heard the rustling of clothing, Bryce cursing to himself about how squatting hurt his knees, and then a torrent of liquid spattering against dirt followed by a moan.
Dwight blushed at the sound, it was weird to hear such a perverse noise come out of his commander.
“Feeling better?” Kenneth asked.
“Yes, quite a bit,” Dwight agreed. He laughed, “I feel five pounds lighter almost!”
“Heh… That’s good,” Kenneth said. As Bryce continued gushing behind the bushes, Kenneth shifted around uncomfortably. “Hope he finishes soon… Listening to other people piss kind of…”
Dwight realized that Kenneth hadn’t peed in all this time either. “Makes you have to go?”
“Yeah,” Kenneth said, biting his lip.
“I can stay here and keep watch for you. Bryce too if you’re comfortable with—“
“I can’t,” Kenneth said. “This is The Leader’s place,” he listed off. “I’d have to take my… pants down all the way… show… everything. I wouldn’t be able to get up right away if I had to, and—“
Dwight’s heart ached. His poor friend didn’t have the option of making emergency decisions like he and Bryce both could… “You won’t NEED to get up right away,” Dwight said. “No one’s going to try and attack you while you’re back there. They’d have to get through me first.”
“I… I know,” Kenneth said. “But… I don’t have to go that bad. I can wait for the toilet.” He stuffed a fist into his mouth and nibbled on it, the action telling Dwight he needed to go quite a bit more than he was letting on.
Bryce re-emerged from the bushes, and cleared his throat. “Alright, this never happened,” he said. “Agreed?”
“…Yes,” Dwight and Kenneth both said.
Dwight turned to Kenneth. “You’re sure you don’t want to at least try?”
Kenneth imagined himself unbuckling his belt, pulling his pants down around his ankles and squatting, half-naked, in the dirt for several minutes as his bladder only grew fuller and angrier. How pathetic would that be? He shook his head. “I will wait,” he said.
“Well… Okay,” Dwight said. But, he was concerned. Kenneth used to be at least a little open to the idea of ‘trying’, but lately he’d been shutting that suggestion down whenever it was brought up to him. Ever since that day where he’d shut down for so long and made himself sick, he’d been more ashamed of himself than ever before. |
Kenneth held it until the bathroom was in working order again. Dwight nudged him and pointed it out to him, expecting his obviously uncomfortable friend to hurry off and go use it, but Kenneth didn’t.
Kenneth was extremely desperate for the toilet by then, but The Leader was speaking and it would be completely improper to leave. Additionally, Kenneth didn’t want The Leader to KNOW that he was extremely desperate to pee. He’d figure that out if Kenneth ran for the restroom the second it was available.
So, Kenneth just stood and listened, bouncing up and down slightly as he tried not to look in the direction of the restroom. He was a desperate, wriggling mess. He bent over at the waist and crossed his legs, struggling to resist his need. He needed to go. Dear God. He had to pee…
He tried to straighten himself out in front of The Leader, tensing and relaxing his thighs over and over and over. That helped a tiny bit, but his need continued to build. Before, it was coming in short spasms, but now the pressure was pretty much constant. He ordered himself to ignore it, but it continued to throb and pound through his body.
Dwight watched his friend fidget and sway in confusion. ‘He doesn’t want to leave in the middle of the conversation?’ he guessed. ‘Is that it?’ Dwight tried to think of a way to bring the discussion to an end faster so that Kenneth could pee… Kenneth’s squirming was clear as day to Dwight, but The Leader didn’t seem to notice how uncomfortable he looked.
Dwight kept expecting Kenneth to interrupt and request a break. Kenneth seldom remembered how to be polite and typically interrupted others when they were talking if he wanted something, even important people. But, Kenneth stayed silent and just continued to shift from foot to foot, his stationary jog building in speed until he suddenly went still and grew very, very tense.
Kenneth’s gaze kept darting to the door that he knew led to a toilet and relief. He needed to go, and his breathing grew heavier as the desire to urinate nearly overwhelmed him. He was getting desperate. Wait. No. That wasn’t right. He WAS desperate, and he had been for quite a while. His traitorous hands were trying to move between his legs.
Kenneth had to go… He had to pee! The Leader would hopefully stop speaking soon, and eventually no one would be around to see him go into the restroom. Then he could pee. He could let all of his built-up urine spray forth in a huge, loud stream. He fought not to groan at the thought of all that relief.
He was beginning to wonder if it was possible to feel more desperate for the toilet than he already did. Surely, there must have been a plateau, a point at which it became impossible for his bladder to feel any fuller. But, in all his lifetime of repeated desperation, he’d yet to experience such an effect.
Eventually, The Leader finished speaking and told them they could go to the guest room where they would be staying the night. Dwight watched as Kenneth hastily moved from his place, but had no idea what was going through his friend’s mind when, rather than heading for the toilet, he just went to the bedroom instead. Dwight couldn’t understand why Kenneth wasn’t heading to the restroom. He so obviously needed it…
As Kenneth walked, each step causing knives and needles to poke into his bladder, little leaks streamed out of him every so often. ‘Oh, God, I need a piss!’ he thought. ‘I have been holding on forever!’ He tried not to count the hours that had passed. He tried not to think about how good peeing would feel. Each time one of his boots hit the ground, a bolt of electric pain shot through his lower back and the swell of his abdomen tightened. ‘I have to piss!’ his brain screamed. ‘I have to piss so bad!’
When he walked by the restroom, his bladder screamed angrily and begged him to enter it. He merely tightened his thighs and told it that it was going to have to wait.
Dwight followed after him into the bedroom. Kenneth was sat on the bed, his hands squeezing his jiggling knees. His legs were twisting all over the place as he tied them up in so many knots that he began to resemble a very distressed pretzel.
Bryce was on one of the other beds, he stood suddenly. “I am going to go take a piss,” he said. “Don’t break anything while I’m gone.”
Kenneth watched Bryce leave and tucked his hands between his legs. His bladder had begun to pound with the knowledge that Bryce was now going to do the same thing he was currently DYING for. ‘No fair, I have to go way worse…’ he thought. But, he couldn’t get up and leave for the toilet now. Because, now he’d have to wait outside the door, and he knew he’d continue on squirming and dancing and it would be bluntly obvious that he was having an emergency.
He couldn’t do that. He tapped his toes against the ground trying to calm down the sudden lurching in his bladder.
“Kenneth?” Dwight asked. “You know you don’t need an invitation to use the toilet, right?”
Of course, Dwight could tell he was bursting anyway. Kenneth fumbled, trying to find the words to explain. “I don’t want anyone to see me… Know… That I’m…”
“The Leader?” Dwight guessed. He supposed it was a little understandable he’d be embarrassed to go into the restroom in front of The Leader… “He is busy somewhere else right n—“
“Anyone,” Kenneth corrected. “Th—The servants. Bryce… Anybody.”
Dwight felt something go up his spine. He wasn’t sure what to call the feeling. A mix between a shudder and a bolt of icy nerves. This was new. Kenneth didn’t used to care so much if someone just saw him enter a restroom. This was new, and it wasn’t good. Evidently, Kenneth was now worried that someone may merely THINK about him urinating, not that they’d hear his stream trickling out, not that they’d watch as he went, just that they would THINK about the fact that he peed at all.
It was getting worse.
The demon that Dwight had spent years trying to soothe out of his friend wasn’t fading, it was getting stronger. “That… That doesn’t matter,” Dwight said as evenly as he could. “Do not worry about that. Come on, once Bryce comes back I’ll help you out, just like always.”
“I can’t…” Kenneth insisted, clutching himself with his trembling hands. He doubled over, hissing out through his clenched teeth. “I’m broken.”
“You are not,” Dwight insisted. “You’re okay. You have to pee. That’s all you need.”
Kenneth squeezed his eyes shut as he leaked once more. His grip on his cock tightening to the point it was painful. Then another leak. And another. And another. He needed to pee so much it was making him delirious, but he had stopped leaking. “I broke… I broke everything, and everyone knows, and—“
“You got sick,” Dwight said. “You couldn’t control it. And everyone doesn’t know, only me and the doctors.”
But Kenneth shook his head back and forth, beyond the point that he could be reasoned with. He only knew that he had to pee, and he couldn’t let anybody see that he had to pee. If someone saw him go to the restroom, they’d know how much he needed it, they’d know how he’d been holding it in, and somehow they’d know that he’d held it for so long that he broke down into sobs, pissed his pants, and made himself sick.
“I should have controlled it….” Kenneth whimpered. His bladder was screaming at him to STOP trying to control everything. It was ringing alarm bells, signaling such a severe, urgent need that made him want to cry all over again. He couldn’t keep trying to control everything, the pain in his middle was only growing and building, wave after wave of boiling piss crashing against each other.
Kenneth whimpered loudly at the quiet sound of water moving through the pipes in the walls as the toilet flushed. His thighs tightened and his legs turned to stone as gallons of fluid strained against his trembling pee-hole. His squirming and clenching did nothing to keep the tide at bay, and he felt so close to letting it all spill out right there on the bed. “Nnnnhhh!”
A couple minutes later, the door to the bedroom opened and Bryce stepped in just as Dwight took Kenneth’s wrist and tugged him upright. Kenneth immediately convulsed in an absolute fit of desperation at the change in gravity. His legs had fallen asleep after so much time being constrained against each other and pins and needles shot through them as he tried to walk again. Pins and needles also assailed his bladder, making it shriek with intense and constant spasms of need.
Bryce opened his mouth, “What’s wrong with—“
“We’ll be back in a minute,” Dwight informed quickly, dragging Kenneth out through the doorway. Dwight was honestly scared for his friend now, continuing to force himself through so much desperation after having JUST recovered from his infection couldn’t have been good. And that was what Kenneth was doing now; he was FORCING himself to hold it. He wasn’t asking for help anymore. He wasn’t telling anyone when he needed a break. He wasn’t even relieving himself on his own when he had the opportunity.
It was getting worse.
Kenneth’s bladder throbbed against the extra pressure walking was placing on it. His belt was cutting deeply into the round, full hardness in his abdomen. When Dwight opened the door to the restroom and took him in, Kenneth just stood there and continued to bounce up and down with his hands between his legs.
“Do you need help with your clothes?” Dwight asked, hoping against hope that THAT was the only reason Kenneth was making no move to unzip.
Kenneth said nothing.
“Do you mind if I help you?” Dwight prompted. Clearly, his friend was in a bad state. Whatever he was feeling, whatever was going on in his head that had prompted these new, incredibly destructive behaviors… That was going to have to wait until after he was empty.
Kenneth still didn’t speak, but he shrugged and shook his head.
Deciding that was the best he was going to get, Dwight moved to loosen his friend’s belt and take apart the buttons of his uniform before unzipping him. He felt Kenneth trembling and shaking beneath his touch as he accidentally pressed on his bladder. He heard a tiny hiss of liquid emit into Kenneth’s clothing and tried not to react. “Okay,” he said. “Ready.”
Kenneth moved without the franticness that his obviously extreme level of desperation warranted. He got himself out and aimed at the toilet. And, as ever, nothing more happened. No stream. No cascading, gushing waterfall of relief. Not even a drop. Just like always. Just like it was going to be forever.
It was incredibly rare that Kenneth’s negative thoughts resulted in bouts of sadness. No, they more often presented themselves only through one channel; Rage.
Before Kenneth even knew what was happening, frustration had frothed up in his chest and burst out of his mouth; “I HATE IT! I’M SO FREAKING SICK OF THIS SHIT! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” He’d done it. He’d exploded; Just not in the way that his body actually NEEDED him to.
Dwight knew from past experience that speaking in overly soft and calm tones to Kenneth when he was this angry only stoked the fire of his fury even further. So, he worked to keep his voice as even and natural as it would be if they were having a regular conversation. “Kenneth, this isn’t your—“
“IT IS MY FREAKING FAULT!” Kenneth shouted. “IT’S MY FREAKING BODY! I SHOULD BE ABLE TO FREAKING CONTROL IT!”
“You… You’ve got a medical condition,” Dwight said. “It’s like… It’s like if you were asthmatic, you wouldn’t feel bad that you couldn’t control your lungs, righ—“
“IT’S PISSING,” Kenneth exclaimed. “IT’S FREAKING PISSING. IT’S SOMETHING A GOD DAMNED COCKROACH CAN DO, AND I—“ He cut himself off. To his horror, he realized he was crying. Not just nearly-crying, either. The tears weren’t merely building up in his eyes, they were streaming down his face. He was crying. He was crying over pissing. Again. He was pathetic. He was less than a cockroach. “…I deserve this,” he said. “I let this happen. I deserve it.”
Dwight finally began to hold Kenneth and rub his shoulders. Dwight had helped Kenneth pee this way many times. He’d hugged Kenneth even more times than that. He’d held Kenneth as he endured nightmares. He’d cuddled him as he calmed down out of a fit. But, Dwight had never, ever felt Kenneth’s body get this tense before. He felt like he was made of plywood. Plywood that needed an intense massage and possibly a chiropractor. “You don’t deserve this,” he said. “You didn’t let this happen. This is not your fault.”
“It is…”
“It’s not… You were doing a lot better for a while,” Dwight said. “You can do better again, I promise. I’ve got you.”
“Easy for you to say,” Kenneth mumbled, fighting not to twist his hips around as desperation pulsed through his veins. He knew if he squirmed like he was trying to keep it in, he’d be stuck here even longer. “You’ve never had to feel this way.”
“I have…” Dwight said. “There was one time when I was a kid, that guy who liked to pick on me kept knocking on the door and I couldn’t go. I was scared. I was so young that I thought you really could explode from not peeing for too long. I actually thought I’d die.”
“Heh…” Kenneth smiled softly through his tears and anger.
“And, you know how I feel about public speaking,” Dwight went on. “Makes me so nervous. Remember the time I was supposed to give a speech to a bunch of new recruits? I don’t know if you could tell, but I had to pee SO badly through the whole thing, it was like half my body weight was piss, I swear. And, the reason I had to go so much was because when I woke up that morning and went to pee, I just couldn’t stop thinking about how I was going to have to talk in front of all those people and try to make it sound like I actually have a brain, you know?”
“Eheh…” Kenneth laughed a tiny bit, and Dwight felt his friend’s body release a huge bit of tension beneath his rubbing hands.
“And, I kept thinking about how I was probably going to forget what I was supposed to say, or I’d say something stupid, or I’d get through the whole thing and realize my zipper was down the entire time… And, I just felt so nervous that I couldn’t pee! And, it was first thing in the morning, so I really, REALLY had to. I kept trying, but before I knew it my time was up and I had to go give the speech.”
Kenneth began to go slack in Dwight’s arms, snuggling into him slightly. He started to feel the little pulsing pinch at the base of his cock that usually came right before he started to urinate. He tried to even out his breathing and hold onto that feeling, scared of allowing it to fade back into the pulsating misery of his full bladder again.
“I’ve got NO idea how I managed to make it through the whole speech without just pissing everywhere, I was completely convinced it was going to happen. I had to go SO bad! And I was so frustrated, too. Because I SHOULD have been able to go after I’d woken up, just like always. I shouldn’t have been needing to pee at all! And, I kept thinking to myself ‘Wow, this is what Kenneth feels EVERY day, isn’t it? He must have the patience of a saint to put up with this!’”
“Oh—” Kenneth snickered, amusement bubbling in his chest instead of anger. “Oh my God! Did you just call me ‘patient’?!” He was barely able to get the words out as he began to snort and laugh very hard. ‘Patient’ was the last word anyone would ever use to describe Kenneth. He had a hair trigger temper and a desire to get everything done as efficiently as possible. Nothing about him was ‘patient.’
It took a few seconds for Kenneth to register that his laughter had gone straight to his bladder, squeezing it hard like it was a lemon being juiced. Pee was trickling from his tip and splashing loudly into the water in the toilet bowl. He took a moment to be amazed that, even through his hysterics, he wasn’t spilling a drop, then all he could feel was the relief. His laughter transformed itself into a loud, long moan. “Aaaaaaahhhhhh….”
Dwight let out a sigh as well. It was weird, but the sounds of Kenneth pissing; the intense hiss of his stream and the pleasure filled groans he couldn’t manage to withhold, were beginning to sound like victory to Dwight. Every time he heard those noises, Dwight knew he’d done a good job, that he was a good friend and that Kenneth was okay, happy and comfortable all thanks to him. It was such a strange thing to take pride in, but Dwight couldn’t help it. He had the power to make Kenneth feel absolutely incredible, in a way that no one else could manage.
Dwight couldn’t deny that the sounds were also beginning to make him feel… strange. He didn’t think that the weird feelings had anything to do with the fact Kenneth was pissing, exactly. Just… The knowledge that Kenneth was moaning like that, that he was feeling THAT good, experiencing THAT much pleasure and that Dwight had been the one to CAUSE those feelings… It made Dwight flash hot and cold, and sometimes he even got a little hard when Kenneth moaned particularly loudly. Like now.
Since he and Kenneth were always in such close proximity when they did this, Dwight was certain Kenneth must have felt his stiff cock touching him at least a few times, but Kenneth had never said anything about it. The first several times, Dwight had panicked whenever he felt his member beginning to swell when Kenneth’s groans and sighs hit his ears, but as it happened more times and Kenneth continued not to comment, he realized that either Kenneth somehow wasn’t noticing or he at least didn’t mind it.
Kenneth’s release drew at last to a close and he began to shiver against Dwight’s body, unknowingly stimulating him. Kenneth was still breathing heavily as he zipped up. “Th—There you go,” Dwight said slowly. “All better?”
“Better…” Kenneth murmured.
As Kenneth went to the sink, Dwight placed his hands over his waist, attempting to conceal the effects Kenneth’s noises had had upon him. Dwight felt embarrassed that he was so attracted to them.
Perhaps, if The Night They Didn’t Talk About had never happened, and if consequently Dwight hadn’t known that those moans and gasps falling from Kenneth’s lips while he urinated were absolutely identical to the sounds Kenneth made when being sucked off, perhaps then Dwight wouldn’t find them so exciting to hear. Perhaps then he wouldn’t become so deeply fascinated by all the different ways he could make his friend’s body feel really good. He wouldn’t have known just how special it was that those noises were just for him and him alone. No one else would ever get to enjoy them. No one else would ever get to know what it was like to give Kenneth so much pleasure.
That night, Dwight couldn’t sleep. He’d tossed and turned, trying not to wake Kenneth or Bryce asleep in the other beds. He couldn’t stop thinking about those sounds Kenneth made, and his cock continued to beg to be stroked. Eventually, he gave in and went to the restroom, where he quickly found himself envisioning Kenneth collapsing into him with relief as he moaned and panted and gasped, all for him, only for him, because he needed him. Dwight climaxed shockingly fast, having one of the most intense orgasms of his life. The euphoria was quickly eaten up by shame; He was supposed to be focusing on helping his friend with a medical problem that was very detrimental to his quality of life, he most definitely wasn’t supposed to find so much pleasure in that. |
Kenneth did not like alcohol. He abhorred the smell of booze; His Father had reeked of it at all times, mixed in with tobacco. Nothing good ever came with that smell. Kenneth did not drink alcohol, he’d seen what it did to his Father, it was a poison that morphed the man into a monster that felt nothing but hatred, and kept him crawling back for more. No alcohol would ever touch Kenneth’s lips for as long as he lived.
Or, at least, he’d thought so. That was until the day he’d finished a drill and was absolutely dying of thirst. He felt like his tongue was going to fall off if he didn’t get some moisture into his mouth. He reached for a canteen and began to chug, gulping it down faster and faster without stopping. It took him a very long while to register that it didn’t taste like water. And that it burned his throat going down. He was confused, but then Bryce shouted at him for drinking from his canteen.
Kenneth dropped it, some of the little remaining contents spilling out. “Your water tastes weird,” he informed.
“That’s because it’s not water, dumbass,” Bryce said. “I’m off-duty today, thought I’d have some fun.”
“It was alcohol?” Kenneth asked, he felt his skin prickle. He was scared now. What if this was all it took? One accidental drink, and he was going to find himself dependent upon the stuff, barely functional, addicted. Just like his Father. He knew that since his Father had been an alcoholic, the chances of him developing a similar issue were higher than average, and that his best course of action was to just abstain. But, what if this one mistake was enough to undo it all?
“Yes, idiot,” Bryce said. “What’s the matter with you? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“I don’t… I don’t drink,” Kenneth said. “I can’t—“
Bryce interrupted him with a laugh, “Oh, this will be fun, then!” he said. He picked up his canteen. “Because, you just drank quite a bit of strong vodka. And, if that was your first time drinking… You’re gonna be in for a ride.”
Kenneth sat down on the ground, tried to think of something to do… The image of himself, desperately chugging bottle after bottle as his body deteriorated and his mind became lost in the fog overpowered him. He couldn’t be that. He needed it gone. Flush it out. Yeah. “Water!” Kenneth begged.
“I’ll get you some water,” Bryce said. “And, I... guess I’d better get Dwight to come babysit you now.”
When Bryce came back with a canteen of water, Dwight at his side, Kenneth was beginning to feel the effects. When Dwight had heard Kenneth had accidentally gotten himself intoxicated, he’d been worried the booze would effect him in the same way it had his Father; make him violent towards everyone, even the ones he was supposed to care about. But, it didn’t look like Kenneth was a mean drunk at all. It looked like, if anything, intoxication made him a lot LESS angry.
Kenneth was laying on his back and laughing at his own hands for some reason as he waved them back and forth. Dwight knelt down beside him; “How are you doing, buddy?”
“Dwight, lookit this,” he said. “I have… I have extra hands.”
“You’re seeing double,” Dwight corrected. “You’re drunk.”
“You’re hot,” Kenneth said.
“Oh—Shhhhh!” Dwight scolded. “Bryce is right over there!”
“Yeah, he’s not as hot as you!”
“Right,” Dwight said. “Well, just drink this water, okay? It will make you feel better.”
“I already feel better. I feel the best,” Kenneth said.
“You won’t in a while,” Dwight said. “Drink the water, and then I’m taking you to bed.”
“Oh, wow. About time!” Kenneth said. “Seriously, Dwight. Take a hint!”
Dwight felt himself reddening. His heart skipped a beat. He knew alcohol was something of a truth serum, it wasn’t making Kenneth feel anything for him that he wouldn’t normally. Only making him more willing to share. “That’s not— That’s not what I meant,” Dwight said. “You’re too… I’m not doing THAT when you’re like this.” Seeing Kenneth so free and open about… Well, anything, was certainly a new experience. Dwight didn’t really know how to respond to him. “Just… Drink your water, okay?”
“Okay!” Kenneth said. He opened the canteen Dwight handed him and began to pour the liquid down his throat. “Ahhhh…” he said once he was finished. “Ready to go now!”
“Alright, that’s good,” Dwight said, helping Kenneth stand.
“Heheheheh,” Kenneth giggled. “My legs feel funny!”
“I’m glad you’re having fun,” Dwight said. “But you need to sleep this off. Seeing you act like this is really freaking me out. Now, come on, it’s a short walk.”
They began to head back to the barrack, Dwight supporting Kenneth as he struggled to walk in a straight path, and got distracted by every little thing. Kenneth was high-energy normally, but usually that energy was heavily focused on whatever task he’d set forth for himself. He usually got himself stuck in a one-track mind, he didn’t get distracted by birds, or rocks, or leaves that were weird colors. Dwight felt rather out of his element seeing his usually moody, standoffish, obsessively focused friend suddenly act in a manner so antithetical to who he was.
Dwight had to admit that he didn’t exactly MIND that the alcohol had succeeded in making Kenneth loosen up a little in ONE regard, though. The casual, flirting comments hadn’t stopped, and Kenneth just would not stop touching Dwight. He was showing the level of affection he usually only showed when he was fast asleep beside Dwight and managed to roll over to give him a cuddle while unconscious. But, now he was fully awake, and hugging onto Dwight like he couldn’t get close enough to him.
He hoped that once Kenneth sobered up, if he remembered anything, it was that. He hoped Kenneth remembered how he’d felt cuddling him; Obviously, he was liking it, otherwise he would have stopped doing it by now. He hoped that Kenneth remembered how Dwight hadn’t pushed him away, that he’d liked it, too.
Kenneth suddenly stumbled a little further away from Dwight. “Careful,” Dwight said. “Let me help you wa—“
“Gotta pee!” Kenneth said abruptly and rather loudly.
That was supremely out of character. Kenneth rarely admitted he needed to pee. It was always ‘I have to take care of something’, ‘I need a moment’, or ‘I must attend to something now’. Never ‘Gotta pee!’ and certainly never so loudly! Kenneth preferred that people thought he didn’t have needs.
“We’ll be at the barrack soon,” Dwight said. “Half an hour, I think. Real fa—“
“Can’t hold it!” Kenneth whined, gripping himself.
Dwight wondered if Kenneth was really THAT desperate. He knew that his friend had a bladder of steel, and this seemed rather sudden. But, alcohol had a way of running right through a person, and Kenneth hadn’t had any prior experience with it, his body likely didn’t know how to regulate it. And, perhaps, since he already didn’t have full control over his body, his need to go felt more intense. “It’s alright,” Dwight said. “We’ll be back soon.”
“Can’t,” Kenneth said, jumping in place. “Hafta go now!”
“There’s nowhere for you TO go,” Dwight pointed out.
“No fair…” Kenneth complained. “I have to pee real bad!”
“I know,” Dwight sighed, he put a hand on Kenneth’s shoulder. “Let’s keep walking, okay? The faster we walk, the faster you can pee.”
Kenneth whimpered into Dwight’s side, “I can’t make it…”
“You can,” Dwight said. “It’s not as bad as you think it is. I’ve seen you hold it WAY longer.”
“Don’t wanna hold it,” Kenneth said.
“I know you don’t, but you have to,” Dwight said, beginning to drag Kenneth along. Kenneth stumbled as he tried to go along, not just from his intoxication, but from trying to walk and keep his legs crossed at the same time.
“Dwight, pleaaaase?” Kenneth begged.
“Please what?”
“Pleaaase lemme go pee?”
“Where?” Dwight asked, beginning to get a tad annoyed. He wanted Kenneth to act all cuddly with him again, instead of continually complaining about needing a toilet.
“Anywhere!” Kenneth said. “Pleaaaase? I hafta go real bad!”
“There’s nowhere FOR you to—“
Dwight’s sentence died on his lips when Kenneth pushed away from him, took a few steps to the side, unzipped, and immediately began to pee.
What.
Kenneth did not do that. Kenneth absolutely did. Not. Do. That.
Dwight had been obliged on countless occasions to rub Kenneth’s shoulders and speak softly into his ear just to relax his notoriously shy bladder enough to pee in a secluded, private toilet. He’d seen Kenneth get pee shy because a spider was in the restroom with him. He’d seen Kenneth hold it for entire days when he was unable to find sufficient privacy and his bladder had just refused to let go. He’d heard Kenneth claim that he’d gotten shy in front of himself a few times. Kenneth was more pee-shy than Dwight had thought it possible to be, he was so pee-shy that he’d been forced to restrain himself until he was in severe enough pain to make him cry multiple times!
But, here he was, peeing in a totally open area. Not even behind a bush or a tree. In broad daylight. With several of their fellow guards close enough to be visible.
What.
Dwight kind of just stared at his friend. Kenneth was releasing a stream that made it appear as though he hadn’t peed in DAYS, and he was letting loose slurred-sounding moans as loud as anything.
Well. Apparently there was ONE thing that completely negated his usually borderline-insurmountable case of Paruresis... However, Dwight didn’t think that making Kenneth dependent upon excessive alcohol consumption in order to void his bladder would be a very good idea.
Kenneth zipped up after a minute and stumbled back to Dwight. “Ahhhh,” he said. “All better!”
Dwight knew that Kenneth was going to be absolutely mortified in the morning if he remembered that he’d actually done that. Hopefully, he wouldn’t. Dwight got Kenneth back to the barrack and put him to bed. He fell asleep quickly, at least.
When Kenneth woke the next morning, his head was pounding with a massive headache… And his bladder felt like it was on the verge of rupture! He got up as quickly as he could, a little confused why he was in his uniform already, but he didn’t have time to worry about that. He darted for the door to the restroom and twisted the knob. It didn’t budge, so he knocked.
“Kenneth?” Dwight called over the sound of the sink’s faucet. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Kenneth said, shifting his weight around. “But, um… Will you be long. I… Have to take care of something.”
Dwight sighed a relieved breath; Kenneth was definitely all sobered up now. He opened the door and his friend rushed in. Dwight sat down on his own bed as the sound of Kenneth relieving his bladder became apparent. When Kenneth came back out, Dwight asked if he remembered anything about the previous day’s events.
“No,” Kenneth said. “Why?”
“You… Accidentally drank a lot of Bryce’s booze,” Dwight said.
Kenneth’s face paled. Was he an addict now? He didn’t think so. If accidentally drinking alcohol was what caused this awful headache, then he didn’t ever want another drop of the stuff for as long as he lived! “D…Did I do anything?” he asked.
“Hm?”
“I didn’t… Embarrass myself, did I?”
'Well,' Dwight thought. 'You called me hot. And then you took a huge piss right out in the open.' “…No,” Dwight said timidly.
Kenneth exhaled, “Ah, that’s good!” he said. “And, I guess if I ever drink from Bryce’s canteen again, I should probably sniff it first, right?”
“Yes, you should do that,” Dwight said. “You, uh… You don’t walk very well when you’re drunk.” |
Kenneth had to hurry. He had been made him stand guard all day again, and this time his supervisor had not been Bryce. The person placed in charge of him today was an even bigger jerk than Bryce had ever managed to be. He’d granted Kenneth absolutely zero breaks. Just… standing there, all day long. Hour upon hour. Minute upon minute. Second upon second. Each one making his bladder stretch further and further past the breaking point. Kenneth had resorted to debasing himself before the bastard, begging him for a few minutes’ respite so he could please, please, please, for the love of God, please just relieve himself!
But, his superior had been adamant in his refusal, and Dwight had been busy elsewhere, unable to come rescue him. Kenneth’s desperation built and built, reaching crescendo after crescendo. So many times, he’d been convinced that it was all over, that he was going to have an accident. The only thing that seemed to stop it was the knowledge that his superior was there, and perhaps when he looked at it that way, his shy-bladder could also be a bit of a blessing; It wouldn’t release in the presence of others, which meant publicly wetting himself was very unlikely to happen.
Still, needing to go that badly was a painful experience. He’d had to release his belt towards the end, and when he was ordered to put it back together so he would look ‘proper’, having to press the thing back into his bloated abdomen had caused tears to spring to his eyes that he’d only just managed to keep from falling.
When his superior at last told him he could leave for the night, Kenneth didn’t hear him right at first. It had sounded too good to be true, he’d been certain he was going to be trapped in this purgatory of ever increasing piss desperation for the rest of eternity.
“Didn’t you hear me?” the man asked. “I said you are reeelieeeeved of your position,” he deliberately drew out the word ‘relieved’ for as long as he possibly could, wearing a gigantic, smarmy grin on his face as the word pummeled Kenneth right in the bladder.
Kenneth would have insulted him for such a taunt, but as soon as he’d been told that he could go, the only thing he could do was dash off as quickly as he dared. He was gonna make it! He was gonna make it! He was eternally grateful that he’d been so close to his barrack. He may have had to move pretty slow, but at least he didn’t have far to go. His bladder convulsed and a small trickle snaked down his leg as he opened the door.
God, he hoped Dwight wasn’t already in the restroom. Or, if he was, that he’d let Kenneth in. Dwight would do that for him, right? Dwight would understand, wouldn’t he? Kenneth reached for the door to the restroom and tugged. His legs were bouncing up and down, he’d lift first one, then the other. He couldn’t recall ever being so frantic for anything in his life and it was driving him crazy.
The door didn’t move. Kenneth knocked, “Dwight!”
Kenneth could sort of hear liquid trickling.
“Be out in a minute, Kenneth,” Dwight called back.
“Pl—Please just let me in!” Kenneth begged. “I’ve—Ah!” his beg was cut off when another series of dribbles began to patter down his leg. “They made me stand out there all day, no breaks, lots of water, can’t—“
Kenneth heard a soft sound, then Dwight called “Okay, it’s unlo—“
Before Dwight could finish his statement, Kenneth had torn into the room. As Dwight zipped himself up, Kenneth began frantically fighting with his belt, buttons and zip. He continued jumping in place, his trembling hands unable to even get his belt apart, and every few seconds, they darted back between his quivering thighs to give his cock a squeeze.
“Kenneth—“ Dwight said. “Let me he—“
“DO IT!” Kenneth ordered. “HURRY!”
Dwight knelt down and unclasped Kenneth’s belt, then started to work on his buttons. But, Dwight made a mistake, as he took apart Kenneth’s buttons, he pressed his hands into him, directly over his bladder.
And that was it.
Kenneth was peeing.
He didn’t realize he WAS right away. He’d been so cataclysmically full that he didn’t feel his bladder emptying until the intense warmth spreading around his crotch became more noticeable. He bore down hard with his pelvic muscles, clutched himself with both hands, inadvertently getting in Dwight’s way, and tried to make it stop.
But, he couldn’t.
It was too late.
Truthfully, it had been too late for hours, and now that the mental block provided by public settings was no longer a factor, it was all over. His bladder cramped like no tomorrow, and liquid just burst out. It soaked his cupped hands, saturated his boxers and began trickling in waves and rivulets down his uniform pants. A puddle began to form beneath his boots, spreading out rapidly, as his mouth hung open in equal parts horror and relief.
Dwight took a step back. He’d stopped trying to help Kenneth get through his clothes. There was no point anymore; He was already going. His own face pinkened slightly. He’d seen Kenneth pee lots of times before, but never… Never an accident. Not even when they were little kids; Kenneth had never before wet himself in Dwight’s presence.
Kenneth’s eyes were wide open and he looked utterly shocked that this was actually happening to him. His mouth kept opening and closing, he started to rapidly blink, pee just kept gushing and gushing onto the floor beneath him as he stood stock still with his hands out to his sides. Why… Why? If this had to happen, why with Dwight? Why couldn’t he have had the luxury of being ALONE? One of the last accidents he’d had had been under very similar circumstances, he’d made it the restroom filled to the absolute brim, then hadn’t been able to get his buttons apart in time; But, at least that time, he’d been by himself. He wet himself, cleaned up, and none were the wiser.
Why did he have to have an audience this time?
Kenneth knew that this was his fault. If he could have just turned around and pissed while standing out there today, like literally everyone else he knew could, then this would have never happened! But, oh no, he’s not normal! He can’t just take a freaking piss! He can’t just let his body do what it freaking needed to! No, for whatever reason his mind and body had decided to become mortal enemies and leave him caught in the crossfire of their never-ending war. And this was the result of it. Soaking himself like a child.
Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.
Aside from the accident itself, the worst part was how long it lasted. All the unintentional practice he’d had to get with holding it in had made his capacity enormous. To not only reach that limit, but to go so far beyond it, required an immense amount of liquid to accumulate inside of him. So great an amount that it took ages for all of it to finish spilling down his legs.
And, besides the humiliation, the knowledge of his failure, the unending embarrassment as more and more urine pooled at his feet, the worst thing was that this felt GOOD. He didn’t want it to, but it just did; Hours and hours of painful clenching and contorting coming at last to an end. It was impossible for the sensation of so much agony gradually fading from his body not to be pleasurable.
The conflicting emotions of beautiful, wondrous relief and deep, scathing shame fought for dominance in his mind. But, when his flood finally ceased, leaving nothing but a few wayward streams in its wake, all the good feelings associated with finally emptying his bladder went with it. The pleasing sensations of his bladder deflating back to its normal size vanished, leaving nothing but a throbbing tenderness in his middle that told him he’d likely be unable to hold himself for long over the next several days. The warmth that had soaked his crotch and drenched his legs quickly cooled off, leaving him feeling chilled, sticky and clammy. The knowledge that he felt that way because he was coated in his own urine, that he’d failed so spectacularly at keeping it inside of himself for a few crucial extra seconds, weighted him down with embarrassment.
Once Dwight stopped hearing the hissing, he realized Kenneth was finally finished. The accident had lasted over two minutes, but at last his friend was empty. Dwight struggled to think of something to say. He didn’t ask Kenneth if he felt any better, because obviously he wouldn’t after his ordeal had ended so catastrophically. He didn’t tell Kenneth that it was okay, knowing that in Kenneth’s mind, it most certainly was not and never would be. He didn’t offer Kenneth help with cleaning up, not wanting to embarrass the poor thing any further than he already was.
So, Dwight stayed silent, waited for Kenneth to say something first. Kenneth’s negative emotions rarely manifested themselves with crying; Tears were reserved only for instances of very severe physical pain. But, Kenneth certainly expressed himself with an abundance of a different reaction; Rage. Dwight would not have minded if Kenneth yelled at him at the top of his voice for pressing down on him in the wrong place like he had. He wouldn’t argue back. He wouldn’t remind Kenneth that he’d only been trying to help. He’d just let Kenneth get all his anger out, allow his emotions to flow with the same intensity that his pee had. Dwight would let Kenneth scream at him all he wanted, so long as it made him feel better.
But, that’s not what Kenneth did. And, what Kenneth did do was something Dwight minded very much. Dwight had been half-right, Kenneth reacted to his accident with fury, but he directed all of that fury onto himself. “Why can’t I just… Why can’t I be freaking normal!?” He yelled. He turned to look at himself in the mirror, continuing his tirade; “It’s pissing, you moronic excuse for a human being! Freaking PISSING; You should be able to figure that out!”
Dwight held up his hands in a calming gesture. “Kenneth—“
“Why can’t you be normal?! Anyone else would have just been able to go while they were outside! Anyone else wouldn’t be such a sniveling, worthless piece of skin that they can’t perform a basic function! God!” He spat. “You’re such a waste of space! Why can’t you just get over this shit, so you can behave like a normal freaking human for once in your li—“
Dwight stepped closer to his friend, ignoring the puddle coating the floor. He put his arm around Kenneth’s shoulders. “Kenneth, come on. Please? This is not your fault,” he insisted.
Kenneth inhaled and exhaled shakily. “It is,” he said. “Nobody else has this problem. You, Bryce… You guys can pee when you have to. You don’t get all locked up and scared. I’m broken. I let this happen.
“You’re not,” Dwight assured. “And, you didn’t cause this. What you have is a medical issue, it’s not your fault, and you can’t control it, only manage it.”
“I—I know,” Kenneth admitted. “But, I just… I’m too old to be…”
If Dwight hadn’t just peed a few minutes ago, he would have considered wetting himself right then and there if it could make Kenneth feel better. Instead, all he had were his words. “I’ve peed myself as an adult before,” Dwight said. “Remember? You were there for a couple of the times.”
“Heh…” Kenneth cracked a tiny smile.
“See? It happens sometimes,” Dwight said. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this whole shyness thing, but please stop blaming yourself for it, okay?”
“I’ll try,” Kenneth said. “But… I just really, really hate this.”
“I know,” Dwight said. “It must be miserable a lot of the time. Do you feel any better?”
“A bit,” Kenneth admitted.
“That’s good. Do you want any help cleaning?”
“Okay.” |
Bryce tapped his foot impatiently, taking out his pocket watch and staring at the numbers. If those morons didn’t get back here soon, they were gonna miss the train. He’d been trying to be more understanding and accommodating of Kenneth’s shy bladder lately, but that didn’t mean he wanted to let himself be late over it.
It didn’t help that Bryce actually kind of needed the restroom himself. He’d intended to go once Kenneth and Dwight were back, but it didn’t look like he was going to have time for that after all. He should have ordered them to let him go first, but he knew Kenneth was going to need as much time as possible if he was going to relax and actually let it out. As loathe as Bryce was to admit it, he didn’t want to be responsible for Kenneth enduring the full agony of his shy bladder yet again.
A couple minutes later, Dwight returned with his pink-faced—but no longer squirming— best friend.
“Wait here a moment,” Bryce said, beginning to head in the direction of the restroom himself…
But, at that moment, he heard the train pulling into the station and knew he’d lost his chance.
Hopefully the ride passed quickly.
It didn’t.
Bryce felt each and every bump in the track like a boulder slamming on top of his abdomen. His legs fidgeted and his toes tapped. He could do little more than squirm and writhe as he pleaded with the train to move faster and get him to somewhere with a toilet.
The worst part was that Dwight had bought a beverage at the station. A glass bottle filled with soda which he occasionally took brief sips from. Most of the time, however, it was resting in the cupholder beside him. Where it sloshed.
The sound of the liquid jostling around may have been quiet, but the relative silence of the train combined with Bryce’s above-average hearing meant that the noise was impossible for him to ignore. There was nothing that affected Bryce’s bladder more than the sound of water. If he was ever tasked with washing up the canteens, he would squirm the whole time as the trickling water sent his bladder into a fit of needy urgency. It wouldn’t even matter if he hadn’t needed to go all that much before the water had come into play, once the sound hit his ears, his body would just go all to pieces and waves of urine would spontaneously begin flooding against his opening.
There had been one day when he’d stood guard during a rainstorm. It would have been miserable enough to start with, getting drenched and muddy, being blinded when his glasses inevitably fogged up and had droplets streak down their lenses… But, the worst part was the constant rushing hissss of rainwater splattering down. Several times, he’d had to turn around and release his bladder where he was standing, his piss flowing with the rain. The longest stretch of time he went without a pee that day couldn’t have been longer than thirty minutes.
He didn’t like to think he was suggestible, but obviously his bladder sure was.
And that glass of liquid resting next to Dwight had become Bryce’s worst enemy. It was the only thing Bryce was aware of any more, just that awful noise and the intense urge to unleash all the piss splashing around inside his body.
When he heard something else, he thought for sure it must have been his imagination. He didn’t dare check out the window to make sure for several seconds. But, eventually, the temptation was too great and he looked anyway. It had begun to rain. Hard. It spattered loudly against the roof of the train and ran in long rivulets down the window. The sound and sight, so much like what Bryce had to do, was too much and he clenched his eyes shut as his teeth ground together.
He pressed his thighs against one another and fidgeted his legs around, but it wasn’t helping. In the minutes since the rain had begun, his need to pee had reached an agonized frenzy. His hands buried themselves in his lap. Urine pounded against his sphincter in time with the rain pounding against the roof.
“Bryce?” Kenneth asked. “Are you okay?”
Bryce tried to straighten out. When he moved his hands, a spurt leaked from his tip. When he uncrossed his legs, he started to dribble. “I—I’m fine,” he said. He had to be fine, of course. There wasn’t anywhere to pee on the train, so that meant he couldn’t need to pee. It was too inconvenient to have to go right now, so he just didn’t have to. Simple.
Not that any of his fierce, nonsensical denial could help him now. Contrary to what he so feverishly wanted to believe was true, he did need to pee. He needed to pee really bad.
“Are you sure?” Kenneth asked skeptically. “You look like you need to… Um… You remember what happened last time, don’t you?”
Bryce winced with embarrassment as his bladder shook and fired off intense, urgent signals. Kenneth was referring to the time Bryce had held his bladder through an extremely long train ride, while vocally insisting he didn’t have to go at all, before flooding his pants a few feet away from a toilet.
Bryce said nothing, but brought his legs up into his seat so he could tuck his feet underneath himself. The rain continued to rush, the sound of it agonizingly loud and filling Bryce’s mind and body with intense, white hot bolts of need. “Paulson, I demand you begin prattling about something inane right this instant!”
“What?” Kenneth asked.
“Talk,” Bryce barked. “Talk about something stupid, and do it as loudly as you possibly can!”
“Uh—Um… Okay,” Kenneth said.
Dwight lifted his soda and took a sip. Bryce’s eyes fixed themselves to it, watching as the liquid inside the bottle sloshed and moved. The fluid in his bladder seemed to do the same thing alongside it. “Smith. Finish your soda now.”
Dwight looked confused.
“You heard me! Chug it! Now! Then talk with Paulson!”
Dwight obeyed, finishing off his soda, still a little perplexed. “Kenneth, what’s—“
“He really needs to relieve himself and doesn’t want to say so,” Kenneth shrugged.
“I do not,” Bryce said, scoffing like that was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. He curled around himself further, his hands wedging between his thighs yet again.
“The soda was probably bugging him,” Kenneth said. “Now he wants us to talk so he will be distracted.”
“Yeah, he does look like he has to pee really bad,” Dwight agreed. “Bryce, do you think you can wait until we get there?”
“No— I mean, yes— I mean… No, because I don’t have to go at all,” Bryce replied, trying to ignore the intense humiliation of his subordinates discussing his body’s needs so openly. But, the only thing that was stronger than the embarrassment was his intense, all consuming need to GO. His teeth clenched so tight he was worried about cracking them. “I’m not waiting to do anything.”
“Okay,” Kenneth said. “If you seriously want to do this to yourself AGAIN I won’t stand in your way.”
Why did it matter if Bryce admitted to his urge or not? Even if he told them he had to pee, it wouldn’t make a difference. He’d still have to hold it until they reached a stop. The only thing confessing to his emergency would do would make him feel even more embarrassed than he already did!
So, he just kept squirming and fidgeting, kept gripping his member through his clothes. Kenneth and Dwight had started talking, but not loudly enough to drown out the horrible rushing waves of rain outside. A quick burst of pee suddenly bloomed wet and warm in Bryce’s boxers.
He squeezed himself even tighter to cut it off. His bladder flamed at the tease of the wet spot on his clothes, begging him to allow it to make another. “How much longer?” Bryce whined out.
Kenneth looked at him and raised a brow, “I thought you didn’t need anything.”
“I don’t,” Bryce said, clenching his jaw. “But, I am bored.”
Kenneth gave an uncaring shrug, “Maybe an hour?”
The thought of having to endure another hour this way… The pressure in Bryce’s bladder was still getting worse. He jerked his hips, pressing the heel of his boot into his crotch and doubling over. “Nnnnnhhh!!”
“You sure do a whole lot of pee dancing when you don’t need to pee,” Kenneth noted. His gaze fell onto the bottle next to Dwight and he reached to pick it up. “I guess if you don’t have to go, I’ll throw this bottle out. I can’t think of anything else we could possibly need to use it for right now.”
Bryce stared at the bottle that had tormented him through the first part of the journey. Now, it looked like salvation. “Don’t throw it out!” he begged. If he could move his hands, he’d try to make a grab for it. He’d try to tear it from Kenneth’s grasp.
Kenneth snorted a short laugh. “Why not? What do you need it for?”
“Nothing!” Bryce barked out. “Everything! I don’t know! Just— Just give it to me! That’s an order!”
Kenneth shrugged, a small smirk on his face. “I don’t know,” he said. “It could be dangerous if it breaks… It’s made of glass! I should throw it out, just to be safe.”
“No!” Bryce pleaded. “Hand it over!”
“Hmmm…” Kenneth hummed, pretending to mull it over. “Not unless you tell me what you want it for. For all I know, you’re gonna stab me with it or something!”
“I wouldn’t do that!”
“Then, why do you need it?”
Bryce forced his eyes shut, “You know!” he spat.
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
“I need— I just… I need it, okay!?”
“That doesn’t cut it, Bryce.” Kenneth started to stand up, he reached to slide open the door to their compartment.
“NO!” Bryce begged. “Please! I need— I really would like to pee! I want to go! Please, let me do it in the bottle!”
‘I want to go’ was probably the best Kenneth could hope for, but still… “Well, if you only ‘WANT’ to pee, I guess it’s not an emerg—“
“It IS!” Bryce snapped, his resolve fading away as a wave of piss flowed into his boxers. His sense of pride was lost alongside his bladder control. “I need to pee! Please, I can’t hold it! Please! I have to go!”
“Ohhhh,” Kenneth said, as if it was the shock of the century that Bryce needed the restroom. “Here you go, then.”
Bryce tore one hand away from his crotch and tried to use it to unclasp his belt. Only to cringe when he realized he couldn’t do it one-handed. The instant his other hand let go of his dick, he was peeing again, the liquid audibly hissing against his clenched thighs. He ripped his belt apart as fast as possible, then started on his buttons, finding it very difficult to get them all apart with his shaking hands. He wasn’t just leaking anymore, he’d started to let out an actual stream, and he couldn’t stop it from coming.
Kenneth had turned himself backwards in his seat, pressing his face against the cushion of the chair to give Bryce some semblance of privacy. Dwight was still facing Bryce and when Kenneth tilted his head slightly and noticed, he snapped; “Don’t watch him, you idiot!”
“Oh, sorry,” Dwight said. “Kinda zoned out…” He covered his eyes up with his hands. “Okay, good to go.”
Bryce yanked his zipper down loudly and finally positioned himself at the opening of the bottle. Urine began noisily plinking into the bottom of the glass receptacle and Bryce’s body began to slacken, his limbs loosening and his eyes drifting shut in complete, blissful relaxation. All that tension eased away, his muscles unwinding themselves as he drained away the awful burden of his bladder. “Mmmm…” he hummed out, having to grind his teeth to keep from moaning or sighing loudly.
The sound of his pee hissing against itself in the bottle was the first watery noise not to torment him. Instead, it made him feel light, loose and so, so good. He was peeing, and it was heavenly.
The bottle was big enough. Just barely. And when the last spurts had left his bladder, he loudly exhaled. He zipped up and began looking for the cap so it wouldn’t spill.
Dwight handed it to him and he twisted it back on.
Bryce just sat there in a daze for several seconds before putting the rest of his uniform back together. “Just for the record,” he said. “I definitely could have kept waiting. I didn’t need it that much. Only— Only because you gave me the bottle. I only used it because you gave it to me. I could have made it just fine.”
“Whatever you say, Bryce,” Dwight said. |
‘Is this just what elevators do?’ Dwight wondered as he bounced in place. He hadn’t seen very many elevators in his life, and had only been inside of one twice, but both of those times it had gotten stuck!
This second experience was shaping up to be entire galaxy’s of magnitudes worse than the first had been for two reasons. One, the first time he’d been stuck in an elevator, Kenneth had been with him to help stave off the boredom. And two, the first time he’d been stuck in an elevator, he hadn’t needed to take a piss so badly that he was sure his eyeballs must have been turning yellow.
It was the need for the toilet that had caused him to pick the elevator over the stairs in the first place. After attending another speech, drinking way more than his fair share in water afterwards, and never once getting to have a turn in the restroom set aside for guards, Dwight had been so absolutely dying for a pee that he didn’t think he’d even be able to make it back to the inn in time.
He’d BEGGED Bryce— Literally BEGGED him, as close to being down on his knees as he could get without adding undue pressure to his poor bladder— to please, please, PLEASE let him use one of the civilian restrooms just this ONE time. Dwight insisted that no one would care, the others in that room would be more focused on emptying their own bladders to realize Dwight was in uniform and think anything of it, surely! But, Bryce had shook his head; “These are not my rules,” he said. “And, I cannot allow you to break them. If anyone above us finds out that you disrespected your uniform by wearing it inside that restroom, we could all be in trouble for it. Hold it.”
So, Dwight had tried to hold it. He’d wanted to use the restroom at a shop on the way back, but it had been so late none of them were open. So, all Dwight could do was hobble the long walk to the inn, made worse by the darkness of the streets—only somewhat illuminated by a few sparse lamps— and his inability to see if he was about to trip over something. He did trip a few times, and each instance drew a spurt from his bladder that made him all the more certain he was going to wet himself.
Partway through the walk, he’d cried out that he could NOT hold it any longer. He told Bryce and Kenneth that he was going to pee in between a couple buildings, he just HAD to get it out of his system or he’d burst for sure. Bryce had ordered him not to— If peeing in the civilian restroom at the colosseum would have been disrespectful to his uniform, then doing it right out in public where someone could see would be even worse. Dwight argued no one was around TO see so late at night, but Bryce could not be swayed. Dwight was to hold his pee until they reached the inn, no way around it.
Finally, the long and painful journey came to an end; They had made it to the inn. Dwight just had to get up to the second floor to his room, where he could finally release everything that had built up inside his bladder over the course of the day.
But, he didn’t think he could manage to go up a flight of stairs in his condition. Kenneth tore up them like the ground floor was on fire, and Dwight realized he’d been so caught up in his own agony he’d forgotten that Kenneth had certainly not relieved himself at all today either. Bryce followed after Kenneth at a slower, less frantic speed.
Dwight decided to take the elevator. No way could he climb stairs without breaking his bladder wide open and turning them into a water slide. By the time the elevator got up to the second floor, Dwight was also pretty sure Kenneth would be finished with his own pee… And, if not, Kenneth was at least comfortable enough with Dwight that they could share the toilet in emergency situations like this one.
God… Dwight had never wanted to see the poorly lit interior of one of the inn’s restrooms as badly as he did right then… He got into the elevator and jabbed the up button, hoping it would move fast as he twisted his legs up and held himself. He was grateful for the privacy the elevator gave, he’d been dying to give his cock a good squeeze for hours but someone had always been looking at him.
Now, after half an hour of being stuck inside the elevator, he was no longer grateful for any part of it. His bladder ached so badly, he could feel urine stretching and distending his entire midsection. Dwight knew Kenneth was DEFINITELY finished peeing by now. Unless he’d managed to get stage fright in front of himself again… Dwight laughed a little through his nose at the memory of that incident, but his laughter shook the walls of his poor, brimming bladder and caused him to double over on himself as a long leak spurted from his tip.
Dwight was absolutely not averse to relieving himself using ‘alternative means’. To him, toilets and urinals were good when they were available, but if he really had to pee and there wasn’t one nearby, he could improvise. He could pee outside even if there wasn’t much cover. He could pee outside even if there wasn’t ANY cover at all. He’d peed several times in barren fields, nothing to hide behind, without the slightest care for how there were people present around him.
He’d peed in containers lots of times too; He’d peed in empty bottles, into barrels, into buckets… Anything that was nearby. If Dwight had to go, then he just had to go, and he didn’t care where he had to do it.
But, there was nothing in the elevator to pee into. No bottles conveniently laying around. No buckets. No nothing. He supposed he could just do it up against a wall, but the one thing Dwight DID try to avoid when relieving his bladder was making a mess that another person would be stuck cleaning. If he peed on the wall of the elevator, he would do exactly that… Although, if the elevator didn’t start moving soon, he’d certainly end up doing it anyway. His bladder would decide to make the mess for him. ‘Surely,’ he tried to reason with himself, ‘It would be LESS of a mess if you go on the wall, right?’
He thought so. He’d be able to aim it so it all went in one place, his clothes would stay dry so he wouldn’t have to worry about dripping anywhere else if he moved around too much… Peeing on the wall would do less damage than peeing his pants, wouldn’t it?
Another leak jetted down his leg with no warning. He hadn’t even felt his bladder lurch or quiver beforehand, just one second he’d been holding it and pondering his dilemma, and the next he was peeing full force and fighting to cut off his flow.
He had no choice. He HAD to use the wall, there was nothing—
He removed one hand from where he’d had it tucked between his legs. He drew it upwards and gripped his uniform cap… It was… sturdy. And the inside was kinda bowl shaped…
Bryce’s earlier ranting about not disrespecting the uniform came back to Dwight. He was almost positive that taking a piss in his cap would count as a LOT of ‘disrespect’, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t just wash it afterwards…
Now that he’d had this idea, his bladder was spasming and shrieking out of control again. He wasn’t leaking like a broken faucet anymore, but every few seconds a tiny drip would add to the growing wet spot on his boxers.
He didn’t want to make a mess in the elevator. The elevator didn’t belong to him. His cap DID, though. And his cap could be washed.
His mind was made up.
‘This is a good idea,’ Dwight thought, trying to reassure himself as he held his cap in one hand and tried to undo his belt with the other. ‘It’s gonna work!’ The strap of his belt released and he practically moaned as it ceased its strangling of his bladder. His zip came down next, and he freed his leaking, damp member from the confines of his boxers.
He held his cap just beneath his throbbing opening and aimed himself downwards into it. Before he’d even planned to, his pelvic muscles dropped and out it came. His drips became a dribble. His dribble became a stream. His stream became a torrent. He was peeing for all he was worth, and he cried out in ecstatic relief. He felt a tingling surge course through his entire body, making him shiver and close his eyes as he lost himself in the rapidly flowing release.
Then, he realized that the cap was growing very sodden and heavy in his hand. He could feel dampness spreading out on the palm that was resting beneath it. He could feel the weight of it building and building. The cap’s interior may have been bowl-shaped at first, but now that it was being sloshed full of liquid, the sides were collapsing in on themselves, and before he knew it the slippery, slick wetness and the weight of so much piss made it so Dwight lost his grip on the cap. It squelched onto the floor of the elevator, the urine inside of it splashing outwards in various directions.
Dwight also couldn’t stop peeing even though the receptacle was now gone. He tried to stop, tried to minimize the mess that was now a thousand times worse than what he would have created had he just peed on the wall or wet his pants. But, he couldn’t cut off the flow. It just kept pouring out of him, adding to the puddle he’d already made. Even as he begged with his body to stop, to clamp it down and hold the rest in, his bladder just continued to pulse and push, forcing out more and more urine, completely under a spell from the euphoria of letting it out.
Rather embarrassingly, as the last of his pee finally departed from his bladder, Dwight shivered. And, it felt really good, too. It felt good to be empty… It didn’t feel good to have soaked the elevator as badly as he had. The floor looked like it had just withstood a hurricane…
And, of course, the elevator chose THAT moment to start moving again.
Why the Hell couldn’t it have done that a minute ago!?
When the door opened, Dwight shakily walked out, carrying his soiled cap and being careful not to step in the pool of his urine in front of him. He headed to the room he was sharing with Kenneth and winced as he knocked on the door.
Kenneth opened it a second later, “Dwight,” he said. “Did the elevator get stuck? Hurry!” He tugged his friend into the room, certain Dwight must have been on the verge of an accident.
“Um… Hello,” Dwight greeted, his cap seemed to feel even heavier in his hands now than it had earlier when it had still been full of his pee. “It… Did.”
Kenneth noticed Dwight wasn’t squirming anymore. Nor did he appear to have wet himself. “Alright, what did you do?” he asked in a somewhat accusatory tone.
“Wha—What do you mean?” Dwight asked, doing his best to look innocent.
“I mean, you were bursting to piss all day and then you got stuck in an elevator,” Kenneth said, continuing to stare at his friend who only shrugged at him in return. “Now, you’re here but you don’t seem to need to go anymore, and your pants are still dry.”
“I have relieved myself,” Dwight said. “I feel much better now.”
“How?” Kenneth prompted, unamused.
Dwight felt his skin prickling with heat, guilt and humiliation. He held his hands behind his back, hiding his cap. “Okay. So,” he started, his embarrassment making it harder for him to tell the story. “I… Did have to go really, really bad when the elevator got stuck. And, it was jammed for a really long time. And I couldn’t wait. So.”
“So?” Kenneth asked.
“Um, well, I didn’t think there was anything to pee into in the elevator,” Dwight continued. “But, then… You ever realize how sturdy our caps are?”
Kenneth’s eyes widened and he put a hand over his mouth, looking at Dwight with the same look of disbelief he’d have if he’d just grown wings and begun to fly. “No. You didn’t,” Kenneth squeaked out. “Dwight. Please. Please don’t tell me that you did that.”
“Okay. I won’t tell you that I did that.”
“Dwight, DID you do that!?”
“You told me not to tell you.”
“Dwight!”
“I… I did,” Dwight admitted, looking down at his boots. “I… I peed in my hat because I couldn’t wait any more and I was trying not to make a mess, alright?”
“Are you freaking SERIOUS!?” Kenneth demanded, reminding Dwight of when the nuns who ran the orphanage he grew up in scolded him for running in the hallways. “Your hat’s not… It’s not… Full right now.”
“Yeah,” Dwight said. “It didn’t work as well as I thought it would. It got too wet and heavy, and just—“
“Dwight,” Kenneth groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “Is the elevator covered in your piss right now.”
“Um….”
“Yes or no, Dwight.”
“Yes…”
“Oh my God…”
Kenneth turned away and sucked in a deep breath. He shut his eyes tight and balled his shaking hands into fists as he slowly let the air back out of his lungs. ‘Don’t yell,’ he ordered himself. ‘Don’t yell. Not at Dwight. Don’t yell. It was an emergency. Don’t yell. He wasn’t thinking clearly. Don’t yell. Don’t explode. Don’t scream. Don’t shout. Just don’t.’ His eyelids tightened, heat flared through his chest and head.
After almost a minute, Kenneth’s eyes snapped back open, but he still did not turn around. “Alright!” he said finally. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’ll go back down the ground floor and tell someone that you spilled something in the elevator, and you feel bad and want to clean it up yourself. Hopefully they’ll give you a mop or something and we can put this whole thing behind us. Okay?”
“O—Okay,” Dwight replied. “And my cap?”
“You have other caps. Just get rid of that one,” Kenneth said. “Go get the elevator cleaned up before anyone notices.”
“I will, but Kenneth—“
“I’m not mad at you,” Kenneth interrupted.
“It sounds like you are.”
“I’m not mad,” Kenneth repeated, turning around. “Sometimes you’re an idiot.” He said, stepping closer to Dwight. “And I can’t say I’m HAPPY that you did all of that,” he added, pulling Dwight into a hug. “But, you’re MY idiot, and I’ll always forgive you when you do stupid things.”
Dwight’s worry and embarrassment melted away as his friend held him. |
Bryce did not like to think of himself as a person that scared easily. Spiders did not faze him. He did not mind being high up. Thunder never startled him. Bryce usually just didn’t get scared. There were only a few things that frightened him, and they frightened him for a very good reason.
While Bryce was not exactly scared of the dark, he was uneasy when he was ALONE in the pitch black of the night. Bats really freaked him out as well. But, nothing scared Bryce more than snakes.
When Bryce was very small, there was an incident where he’d gotten separated from his parents during a hiking trip. Bryce had been scared out of his mind, looking everywhere for them and running around in circles crying for them. He was lost for hours in the big, confusing woods. Night fell and he still didn’t know where his parents were or how to get out of the forest.
He’d come upon a cave.
He thought for sure he’d looked everywhere else, and that his parents must have been in there. So, he’d gone in. He’d tried to be brave and ignore the prickly feelings on his skin. But, the cave was so dark. He couldn’t even see his own feet when he looked down. And, when he looked back, he couldn’t see the way out anymore, either.
He’d cried harder then, certain he was going to die in the darkness and never see his parents again. He curled up on the ground in a little ball, shuddering and sobbing. The only sounds besides Bryce’s wails were the noises of bat wings flapping loudly. Bryce didn’t know what those noises were or where they were coming from, and grew certain that there was some kind of awful monster in there with him, searching for him and plotting to devour him whole.
When he felt something begin to coil around his foot, he grew even more certain that this was the case. He thought it must have been the tentacle of the monster coming to eat him. And then, there was this awful pinch in his ankle followed by burning, stinging pain and a sensation that he was spinning.
He screamed at the top of his lungs.
His Father was there then, having heard his shriek. “Bryce,” he said. “There you are…” and Bryce felt himself being picked up and carried, and then he wasn’t in the scary cave anymore, and Father was there, and Mother was there and she was crying too and asking him if he was okay.
Next thing Bryce knew, his parents were rushing him to the local doctor. The pain in Bryce’s ankle had been a bite from a venomous snake that lived inside the cave. Bryce got very, very sick and the doctor had to do all sorts of things to make him get better. Ever since then, Bryce had hated snakes.
Sometimes, he’d jump backwards just because he saw something that he THOUGHT was a snake. Like, a hose, a pipe or a large worm. When he looked closer and realized the thing wasn’t a snake, his heartbeat would return to normal and he’d feel very embarrassed. But, he couldn’t help it. Snakes were bad news.
Kenneth thought it was funny. Sometimes he’d sneak rubber snakes into Bryce’s bed during the day and when Bryce pulled back the covers and found it, he screamed so loud he could be heard for miles. Bryce always made sure to give Kenneth a task he really, really hated doing in the days following such an occurrence, but Kenneth seemed to think scaring him with snakes was just so hilarious that it was worth whatever punishment he received for it.
Bryce’s fear of snakes and Kenneth’s never-ending amusement by it were the reasons why Bryce was still awake. They’d been out doing marching drills in the woods again. Kenneth and Dwight had fallen fast asleep after Dwight had helped coax Kenneth’s bladder into releasing against a tree. Meanwhile, Bryce’s own bladder was filled to the brim as he laid fidgeting inside the tent.
The obvious solution was to leave the tent and use a tree, but during the day Bryce had seen five entire snakes slithering across the forest floor. Each one had elicited a louder yelp from his lips and even louder fit of laughter from Kenneth. Bryce could NOT go out in the dark to pee when he knew there were snakes around. He wouldn’t be able to see one coming before it was too late.
The three of them were sharing one tent tonight. Bryce was in the middle. And between Dwight’s snoring, Kenneth’s rolling around, and the pain in his bladder, Bryce absolutely could not sleep. His original plan was to just stay up all night and then bolt for a tree as soon as the sun came up, releasing his poor bladder onto the bark. But, he no longer felt like he could make it until morning without an accident. He’d leaked twice already and he knew a third loss of control must have been coming.
‘Don’t be pathetic, Bryce!’ he scolded himself. ‘You are a soldier! You can’t allow yourself to be so scared of the dark that you pee your pants!’ He raised himself up from his sleeping bag and, wincing at the added pressure to his bladder by the new position, crawled towards the opening of the tent. He unzipped it and peeked outside.
He couldn’t see anything. But, he swore he could hear hissing. Panicked, he zipped the tent shut again and retreated inside… Kenneth had rolled into his spot now, and had put his arms around Dwight. It almost looked like he was spooning him. Bryce stared for a moment, wondering if Kenneth realized what he was doing or if he was just so deeply asleep he didn’t notice.
In any event, Kenneth had stopped all the tossing and turning now. He was totally still. That solved one of Bryce’s problems, at least. But, the biggest one was still causing him a lot of trouble. There was no way he could hold his bladder until morning. It was throbbing and pulsing away in his core and once he gave in and put a hand between his legs, attempting to turn it into a plug, he was unable to remove it without spurting.
He could not wait until morning. And, there was nothing in the tent he could relieve himself into. And, there was no way he was going outside where the snakes were. But, he couldn’t just wet himself. Kenneth and Dwight would notice in the morning if Bryce was damp and smelled strange. He’d had more than enough accidents in front of those two to last him a lifetime. He could wake one of them up and order them to accompany him while he peed, but if he did THAT he would NEVER hear the end of it.
Kenneth would bring it up over and over and over again. Entire empires would fall, the world would change in new, exciting ways. And, through it all, Kenneth would continue to mention the night when Bryce had been so afraid of snakes that he’d begged for a bodyguard so he could pee.
Bryce laid back down, and felt his skin stretching out as it strained to cover his bloated bladder. The overfull organ felt even heavier in his center when he laid on his back, but turning on his side made the liquid it contained slosh and rush against his opening. The hand he’d been trying to use as a cork grew warm and sticky as a jet of liquid sailed through his urethra.
He couldn’t wait…
‘No!’ a little voice in his head screamed. ‘You are NOT going to ask one of those morons for help! No way in Hell! You are behaving like a child, just get out there and piss before you flood yourself!’
Bryce tried to obey, he tried to force himself up and out of the tent. He tried to tell himself the snakes were probably all asleep now too and wouldn’t bother him at all. His bladder muscles ached and burned with the all-consuming need to relax… He HAD to go outside, he just HAD to. He sat up painfully, but instead of unzipping the tent again, he just froze. He kept clutching at himself through the material of his boxers. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to forget that the tent could be opened at all.
‘Hold it,’ he thought. ‘No peeing. You don’t even need to pee. You can’t pee right now, so that means you don’t NEED to pee right now. You just don’t. It’s simple.’ His bladder didn’t think it was simple, though. And it strongly disagreed with every one of his thoughts. It didn’t matter that Bryce was too scared to leave the tent and bring it somewhere that it could be emptied. It still NEEDED to be emptied right that very second. Another leak pulsed through as he continued to insist to himself that he could contain his liquid however long he had to.
When he felt the urine rolling down his legs, and felt a few more dribbles follow quickly after, he whimpered softly. “Nnnhh…”
He couldn’t do it anymore.
He reached the hand he wasn’t trying to turn into a makeshift plug over to Kenneth and slapped him hard in the face, which was the most polite way Bryce knew of to wake someone up.
Kenneth blinked his eyes open, and they instantly filled with fury. “What the HELL, Bryce?!” he hissed out, trying not to wake Dwight as well… Whom he now realized he was wrapped around. Kenneth drew away from his friend, coiling his arms around his own body instead as his face flamed. “I was asleep,” he said. “Just… I didn’t know—“
“Paulson, I need you to come with me.”
“C—Come with you where?” Kenneth asked, there was fear in his voice now. “I was sleeping! I didn’t mean to do that, I promise that I don’t hug Dwight like that normally, just—“
“Paulson, I don’t give one eighth of a dead goat’s last shit about that,” Bryce said. “I want to piss.”
“Congratulations,” Kenneth said. “Go piss. Stop hitting me and let me sleep.”
“I can’t,” Bryce said, his hand squeezing his dick so tight it was starting to get very painful, and he was beginning to wonder if he’d even be able to father a child after this. “The snakes.”
Kenneth said nothing for a moment. Then he let out what could only be described as a guffaw. “Are you serious!?”
“Shhhhh!” Bryce pleaded, but the noise sounded so much like the sound of rushing water that it drew forth another leak from his poor bladder. His control was fraying, it felt like he was clinging to a rickety piece of wood floating through roaring ocean waves during a torrential thunderstorm. “Don’t wake Smith! Accompany me at once, that is an order!”
“Heh, okay,” Kenneth said, still giggling.
Bryce was too relieved that he’d actually agreed to care about the teasing. “Okay, now move,” he commanded.
Kenneth unzipped the tent and stepped out, then yelped. “Oh no! Bryce! There are snakes everywhere! And they have guns!”
“Paulson, I swear to—“ Bryce’s curse was cut off by a heinous jolt from his midsection and a long stream of pee hitting his boxers. He scrambled out of the tent, now clutching himself with both hands. Bryce just stood there, shifting from foot to foot like he was trying to perform a very unusual interpretive dance.
“Well?” Kenneth asked. He’d expected Bryce to run straight to the trees, not just stand there squirming.
“Come on,” Bryce said.
“I have to walk you there?” Kenneth asked. “There aren’t even—“
“NOW!” Bryce barked.
“Okay…” Kenneth said. He took hold of Bryce’s tense arm and led him to a bush. “There you go,” he said. “Knock yourself out. I’m going back to be—“
“No, you aren’t,” Bryce said as he hurriedly lowered the waistband of his damp boxers. “You’re staying right there until I’m done.”
“Bryce, I’m so tired,” Kenneth whined.
“Don’t care,” Bryce informed, fishing himself out and aiming at the bush. A second later a thin, clear jet of pee burst forth and began to puddle between his feet. Instantly, Bryce felt like a massive weight was being lifted off his body, his bladder was spraying away like a pin-hole being poked into a water balloon. “Ahhhh…”
Kenneth flinched at the sound of Bryce’s stream spattering, and much more at his relieved breath. It now felt like the pee he’d had before bed had been too long ago. What could he do now? He didn’t want to wake Dwight up to help him relax again… He hoped that once Bryce’s bladder was empty, his own would settle back down a bit.
Looked like that was going to take a while though. Kenneth knew Bryce must have been having a bit of an emergency if he’d actually asked for help like that, but hearing that hissy gush of his continue for so long just made it more obvious. That and the way Bryce hadn’t been able to stop moaning.
Each of Bryce’s moans seemed to double the pressure in Kenneth’s bladder until he was shifting in place just like Bryce had been doing a few minutes ago. By the time Bryce was finished, Kenneth’s urge was creeping towards critical. He stuffed a hand into his mouth and began to chew.
Bryce tucked himself back into his boxers and turned, his face red and his eyes downcast. “Thank you. We will never speak of this aga—“ He stopped when he noticed Kenneth’s little foot-dance, and the way he was gnawing his knuckles. He knew exactly what that meant. “I’ll… Keep watch for you if you promise not to tell anyone about tonight,” he said.
Kenneth had really, really been looking forward to telling Dwight about this… But, he thought he actually wanted to pee even more than he wanted to tease Bryce. “Fine… But, cover your ears, alright?”
“Of course…” Bryce said. He stood at Kenneth’s back while the latter pulled himself out and aimed. Kenneth was starting to have an easier time going around Bryce, so long as he kept quiet and didn’t tease him, it usually only took a few minutes now. He thought the reason may have been that now he knew Bryce had experienced this awful feeling once, he knew that Bryce understood it. He knew that Bryce wasn’t going to judge him as harshly as he once did when he had trouble getting his stream to begin. Bryce knew how it felt now.
This time, it only took four minutes of deep breathing and thoughts of water for Kenneth to start peeing. His stream trickled into the grass and he stuffed a fist into his mouth to muffle his moan of relief as it pulsed out of him. He was sure Bryce had probably started to feel impatient with how long it was taking Kenneth to get going, but was immensely grateful that he hadn’t voiced it.
‘Wow, look at you,’ Bryce thought but did not say. ‘Peeing in front of me…’
Kenneth finished up with a little shiver a minute later and turned back around. “Okay,” he said. “I’m done.”
Bryce nodded and didn’t say anything. He didn’t say how grateful he was to Kenneth for accompanying him. He didn’t say how relieved he was that Kenneth had managed to go and wouldn’t hurt himself again. He didn’t say how weirdly proud he was of Kenneth for being able to pee in his presence a little quicker than usual tonight.
Kenneth probably already knew those things anyway. |
Mostly flashbacks in this one...
***
Kenneth was out with his Father. This was a rare occurrence. Usually, Father left Kenneth at home, away from curious eyes that could ask questions. Questions like “Where did all those bruises come from?” “That boy is awful pale, isn’t he? Doesn’t he go outside?” “Shouldn’t a little boy like that be more talkative, is he hiding something?”
Father had given Kenneth strict instructions. Head down. Eyes at the ground. Do not speak to anyone. Do not look at anyone. Kenneth wouldn’t have talked to anyone, anyway. Talking to someone would let them know he existed. If someone knew he existed, then that would be an invitation to hurt him.
Father was buying bread. Kenneth had to pee. He really didn’t want to have to pee right now. He knew he was not allowed to pee outside the house. Or inside the house. Or at all. He knew peeing was bad, but he couldn’t figure out how to make himself stop needing to do it.
Back when he still had a Mother, before the night everything got worse, Mother would be very nice to him. She would take him to pee when he needed to go even if Father had said no and that he had to hold it. “For God’s sake,” Mother always said. “You needn’t be so cruel to him.”
“I’m not cruel,” Father always said. “I am teaching the boy discipline, something you have seriously neglected to do.”
Then, Mother and Father would argue, and Kenneth would squirm and fidget from more than just a need to pee. Finally, Mother would stand, take Kenneth’s hand and bring him to the restroom. He’d feel a lot better after that, but not completely. Mother and Father always fought, and most of the time it was about him. He knew if he could just be good, be better, everything would be okay.
But, he didn’t have a Mother anymore. Father had taken her away forever, and that was Kenneth’s fault too. It was his decision to go into their room that night. If he hadn’t done that, Father wouldn’t have gotten his gun to begin with.
Now, Kenneth needed to be quiet. He wasn’t allowed to say things about the night everything got worse. Or about anything at all really, and that included peeing. Which he really, really had to do right now. He saw the door to the shop’s restroom and felt his insides coming unglued. He wanted to go in there. He’d seen other people do it. They were all allowed to pee. Kenneth didn’t understand why it was okay for other people to pee, but when he did it it was bad and wrong.
Father stopped what he was doing for a second. “I have to take a leak, come on,” he said, firmly grabbing Kenneth’s arm and tugging him to the restroom door. This was confusing for Kenneth too. He knew peeing was bad because of his Father, but Father peed all the time. Sometimes he even did it in his sleep whenever he drank too much and got really sleepy in his chair. Kenneth never peed when he was asleep. Sometimes, Father peed on things he wasn’t supposed to, like walls outside or empty bottles if he didn’t want to get up. Kenneth didn’t pee in places he wasn’t supposed to. Well. Sometimes he went in his pants, but that was only because Father didn’t let him use the toilet, and even when Kenneth tried really, really hard, it would come out. If peeing wasn’t bad, if it was something Kenneth was allowed to do, he knew he’d only do it when he was awake, and he’d only do it into a toilet like he was supposed to.
Father had Kenneth stand beside the sink, “What the fuck are you looking at?” Father barked as he started to unbutton his pants.
Kenneth had been looking at the toilet, but he snapped his eyes back down to the floor where they were supposed to be. Even with the toilet out of view, he kept thinking about ways he could misbehave, like by daring to actually relieve himself right here and right now. That was a horrible thing to think about doing, he knew. If Father found out he was daydreaming about that, he’d be in so much trouble! He felt himself tearing up, wondering why he couldn’t just be good.
Kenneth heard Father start to urinate into the bowl, and that made him want to go even more! ‘You don’t need to,’ Kenneth repeated to himself. ‘You don’t need to. You just want to. You just want to. You don’t need to. You don’t—‘
But, Kenneth DID need to. He needed to so much that he felt like he was going to cry for real. When Father finished, Kenneth dared to speak, “F—Father,” he said. “May I… May I… Um… May I please go too?” They were already here, he reasoned. It wouldn’t be wasting time if they were already here!
“No,” Father said dismissively, voice tight. Immediately, he latched his hand onto Kenneth’s arm again and dragged him out of the tiny bathroom, not even allowing Kenneth a second glance at the toilet he needed so badly.
Father bought his bread, then started to lead Kenneth home. Kenneth really, really had to go by then. He was super scared he was going to go pee in his pants. That would be so embarrassing because he was outside and there were people around. And Father would get really angry at him for humiliating him in public like that. He’d yell at Kenneth; “See? This is why I can’t take you anywhere! You’re revolting!” And then when they got home there would be all Hell to pay.
He was having trouble walking and hoped that one of two things would happen; Maybe when they got home, Father would say he could go, or maybe instead this would be the day Kenneth finally figured out how to behave; how to hold it forever and stop needing to pee.
Neither of those things happened though.
What happened instead was that Father poured himself several drinks and ate a couple slices of bread as Kenneth just watched him with pleading, watery eyes. “The fuck do you want?” Father demanded. “Speak.”
“M—May I please… The toilet…” Kenneth begged softly. He had put his hands between his legs now. He knew he wasn’t supposed to do that either. Father said it was dirty and meant he was a disgusting person. But, if Kenneth didn’t put his hands there, it felt like his pee was going to come out, and that would cause even more trouble!
“No,” Father stated once more. “Stop asking me that, and if you don’t move your god damned hands I’m going to cut them off.”
Kenneth jumped and yanked his hands away from his front. He didn’t doubt that Father WOULD cut them off. He’d seen Father do things even worse than that before. The urge to return them to their place built and built as he quivered and danced around, needing so much to pee. His hands started to creep back down on their own, without him noticing.
“Hey!” Father snapped. “What did I just say? Or are you too stupid to understand simple instructions?”
Kenneth realized what he was doing and forced himself to stop. But, his hands didn’t want to listen. They wanted to help him hold it so he wouldn’t have an accident and get punished. His hands were bad, just like he was bad. They had to be punished, just like he had to be punished.
Without thinking he jammed them into his mouth and bit down. It hurt a lot, but it kept them from going back where they weren’t allowed, and it was teaching them a lesson for disobeying Father. He kept chewing on them. He saw Father staring, noticing what he was doing, and hoped that this was not also against the rules.
Father didn’t say anything though, so Kenneth decided it must have been okay.
Kenneth kept holding it and chewing his hands for a very long time. Father just sat in his chair and watched, continuing to drink. The sounds the bottles all made caused Kenneth’s middle to hurt even more and before long he was crying.
“Stop fucking crying,” Father commanded. “There’s no reason for it. None.”
“Father, please—“
“And who the HELL gave you permission to talk!?”
Kenneth flinched, and some of his pee came out then. He knew he messed up real bad now. Talking was not allowed unless Father told him it was time to speak. Father was standing up now, and that was never good. He was taking off his belt, and that was even less good.
As the first blows came, Kenneth’s hands flew from his mouth and he grabbed himself again, clenched his legs together, but it was too late. His pee came out. First a little bit, and then all of it. Father paused what he was doing, staring at the wet spot forming on Kenneth’s pants and the puddle growing beneath him.
“You filthy little bastard!” Father shouted.
And Kenneth knew there would be more hits to come.
***
Kenneth really, really had to pee. And Father had not had very much to drink yet today, which usually meant he wouldn’t act so mean and strange. He’d only had three bottles and was only stumbling a little bit. The words he said were mostly clear, too. Maybe that meant Kenneth could go?
He raised his left hand up like he was supposed to when he wanted permission to talk.
“Speak,” Father prompted.
“M—May I please use the toilet, Father? Please?”
Father groaned, “I guess so.” He grabbed Kenneth roughly and led him down the hall. Kenneth knew Father was going to stay and supervise, even if he couldn’t understand why. He just hoped that new, weird, scary thing didn’t happen to him again today. But, he REALLY needed to go, so he doubted it would.
Father shoved Kenneth in front of the toilet, then stood behind him, breathing heavily as Kenneth lifted the lid and unbuttoned his pants. The sound of Father breathing so loud made Kenneth’s hair stand on end and his bladder shudder.
“Go,” Father prompted. “You have two minutes, and I swear to God if you don’t fucking go, I’ll make it so you can’t sit down for a week.”
Kenneth already couldn’t sit down without it hurting. He couldn’t remember ever being able to sit down without it hurting.
He did think he could probably finish in under two minutes though. He did really have to go pee, but two minutes was a long time!
Except… The new, weird, scary thing happened again.
He told himself to pee, except he didn’t pee. He couldn’t pee. Even though he really, really NEEDED to pee.
Father was behind him, drumming his fingertips impatiently agains the wall, producing a loud sound that made Kenneth feel on edge and uncomfortable. “Hurry up,” Father said. Then, louder “HURRY UP.”
Kenneth tried. But, he felt so scared inside, he couldn’t understand what was happening. Why wouldn’t it just come out? And when Father shouted, the tightness he felt within grew more and more constricting! He started to cry, wishing it was that easy to get liquid to come out of him in other ways.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Father snapped. “Time’s up! I can’t believe this shit!”
Kenneth tried to stammer an apology, say he was sorry and that he really had tried and he really did have to go!
But, Father was already taking off his belt, and he didn’t give Kenneth permission to speak.
***
Kenneth had a friend now. And a little while ago, he’d told his friend about the weird, scary thing. His friend didn’t get mad at him for it like Father did. His friend wanted to make it better, not worse. His friend didn’t say Kenneth was bad for needing to pee, or that he was broken because it was hard for him to do it. Kenneth loved his friend.
But, some people thought he shouldn’t have.
He heard one of the nuns in charge of the orphanage where Dwight lived talking to Dwight one day. “You cannot have that boy spend the night in bed with you,” she said. “It’s not normal.”
“Why isn’t it normal?” Dwight asked. “There aren’t any extra beds.”
“Well… It’s… Oh, mercy… It’s like this; you see… That’s the sort of thing that’s only supposed to happen between a boy and a girl.”
“Why can’t—“
“I know what you’re going to ask, and it’s because it’s not natural. You don’t see snails and beetles together. You don’t see lemons growing on apple trees. It’s just not natural. And two boys, or two girls… That’s just not the way people were made to be, understand?”
So, Kenneth was bad again. He was bad because he loved Dwight. And, he’d gone and made Dwight bad too. And, since Dwight was the only person who said it was okay to pee, Kenneth knew once more that peeing was very bad, too.
Kenneth slept on the floor when he spent the night at Dwight’s home after that. It was less comfortable, so much colder, and not just in terms of temperature. But, Kenneth wanted to be good, and he wanted to make sure Dwight stayed good too.
Some of those nights, Kenneth would have to pee. Normally, Dwight would wake when Kenneth began to squirm and immediately help him go. But, now that they couldn’t share the bed, that didn’t happen, and Kenneth didn’t want to wake him up. So, Kenneth would try and go by himself, but it never worked. He’d hold it until morning, unable to sleep through his discomfort.
“Kenneth, it’s okay,” Dwight always said. “You can get me up if you need me.”
“But, it’s— I shouldn’t need this…”
“If I’ve got to do this for you for the rest of our lives, I still won’t care.”
Kenneth’s eyes welled up, not purely from the promise of continued help, but from the other thing Dwight’s statement implied; That they would stay friends for as long as they lived.
***
They were all grown up and in training now. Kenneth didn’t call it the weird, scary thing anymore. Now it was just The Problem. That’s all it was. Kenneth’s Problem. So much easier to say than ‘Kenneth cannot pee’.
Both he and Dwight knew that The Problem would be an even bigger one now. There was unlikely to be sufficient privacy a lot of the time. Neither of them breathed a word of The Problem to anyone else, they didn’t need to know about it. Even when their superiors demanded to know where they disappeared to three times a day, why Kenneth was so averse to obeying the hydration regimen, why Kenneth never lined up with the others when it was time for a restroom break.
That was how they were managing The Problem. Kenneth tried to avoid following the hydration rules— One large bottle of water per hour! Kenneth tried to avoid having to line up alongside the others to pee— What if someone noticed he wasn’t going, that he was just standing there with his zipper down? And, three times a day, Dwight would take Kenneth into the woods surrounding the training camp, and gently coax his bladder into a state of relaxation.
It didn’t always work though. There were painful days where they were made to leave their tent and begin carrying out their tasks immediately, making Kenneth miss his morning pee and necessitating that he hold it all inside of himself until at least mid-day. Kenneth always made it— If only because he physically couldn’t pee his pants with so many witnesses— but, wow did it hurt!
They eventually left training behind, luckily with none the wiser about The Problem.
***
Kenneth had been working for a while now, and more people knew about The Problem. It was hard to keep it a secret anymore, not after it had threatened his health and made him fall ill on two occasions. Bryce, his superior, knew about it and he was nice about it. Elizabeth, a medic, also knew about it and had assisted him when it had made him sick. Dwight was still there, and he always would be. He was a constant in Kenneth’s life.
But, he was realizing that so too was The Problem. Kenneth had allowed himself to hope a few times that The Problem may one day go away, that he’d eventually be able to relieve himself whenever he needed to, with no struggle at all. But, that was an empty wish by this point. It had been so many years since he’d last successfully urinated without at least one minute of begging his body to cooperate and let it happen.
He hated The Problem, but it was here to stay. It was a part of him. Just like his big eyes and short stature, it was something that he did not have the power to change. |
This one has a more explicit scene at the end, feel free to skip if you're not into it. (Although, I have a feeling a lot of people have been waiting for this.)
***
The professional looking man glanced down at Kenneth’s knotted legs. “Sir, present yourself with some dignity,” he ordered. “Stop violating behavioral regulations.”
Confused, Kenneth tried to untwist his legs, at the same time struggling to remember where he was and what was going on. It was hard to remember anything when his bladder was as full as it was, however. He could not stop tapping his feet or rubbing his ankles together. He did not recognize the building he was in, nor could he recognize the man speaking to him. “Sir? I don’t understand, what is going o—“
“Mr. Paulson,” the man said. “The only thing you need to understand right now is the law, and the fact you are breaking it.”
How did this guy know his name? Kenneth had never seen this guy before in his life! His knees knocked together with sheer need. “E—Excuse me, please, I must… I must take care of someth—“
“I know,” the man said. “And, I’ve explained this to you several times; You have still failed to qualify for a permit that would allow for unsupervised voiding. You may only relieve yourself in approved government urination centers while under the surveillance of a qualified professional.”
“What the Hell are you talking about?” Kenneth demanded. None of this made any sense. What in the world kind of ‘permit’ was this guy blathering on about? His bladder was so ridiculously full he could barely process each new piece of incomprehensible information. All he could process was the horrid, straining balloon of liquid that had roosted itself parasitically within his midsection. “Sir, may I—“
“No,” the man interrupted. “And uncross your legs right now!”
Kenneth hadn’t even realized they’d crossed back together… “Please? I… I need to… To attend to something. Pressing.”
“You have to piss!” the man said loudly. “For the love of God, just say it. Stop dancing around the subject— And stop dancing around my office while you’re at it— And behave like an adult!”
Kenneth tried to force himself to be still. His urethra throbbed with a sharp, bright point of pain, so much pressure it made him want to cry. “I don’t understand. Where am I?”
“You’re in a urination center,” the man stated dryly, like he thought Kenneth was the most oblivious, and most idiotic person he’d ever come across. “You were brought in earlier after you were reported for attempting to void into a bottle in a private room, like an uncontrollable swine.”
Kenneth felt heat rising in his chest from the insult, but his anger still was not enough to outweigh his confusion. And neither of those were near enough to outweigh his desperation. “What are you talking about? I have the right to—“
“No, you don’t,” the man interrupted. “Urination and privacy are not rights, they are privileges. Privileges which you have yet to earn. Your lack of self discipline is utterly disgraceful. The rules are simple; You have two designated times per day during which you may void; 7:30AM and 8:30PM. At those times, you are to report to a urination center, where you will have five minutes in which to relieve yourself while under the supervision of a professional. Do you understand that?”
“No,” Kenneth answered truthfully. “That’s— That’s insane. I can’t go around people, and I— I can’t hold—“
“Being unable to hold it in, or being unable to release while in another’s presence, are not excuses for breaking the law. These are your own personal failings, and they do not grant you additional rights.”
“But, I don’t— Where am I?”
“A urination center!” The man exclaimed. “Christ! How many times do I have to say that to you? The law is very clear that a need does not equal a right. Just because you need to void, and just because you need solitude to do so… Neither of those mean you are permitted to relieve yourself in privacy whenever you so desire. You are very lucky that I haven’t revoked your voiding permit altogether after this stunt; I could easily insert a plug inside of you and keep filling you until you explode. In fact, that’s what I should be doing, seeing as it’s the usual punishment for such flagrant violations of the law. However, since I’m nice, and this is your first offense, I’ll let you off with a warning.”
Kenneth shuddered, a bolt of urgency working its way through his body. He was feeling genuine fear now; Apparently, he’d been transported to some kind of horrific alternate universe where everyone had to pee on a very precise schedule, and had to do so while being watched! When the man got to the part about the plug— Just the thought of having something put… there made Kenneth’s heart pound almost as much as his bladder still was! He had to find some way out of this place… But, he couldn’t think when he needed to pee this badly!
Perhaps, in this universe, Dwight was one of those ‘professionals’ the man kept mentioning? Sure, he wouldn’t be the real Dwight that Kenneth knew, but maybe he’d be similar enough that Kenneth could go in front of him? Then, after that, he could try and figure out what was happening to him and how to get away from here.
The man looked to the clock, “It’s 8:30,” he announced. “Time for your break, follow me.”
Kenneth warily hobbled after the man. Every step caused the tip of his cock to sting violently with irritation. Every step made it feel like he was being clobbered in the bladder. Every step resulted in tears pricking at the backs of his eyes, and it took a lot of restraint to keep them from falling.
When Kenneth realized that this strange man was the ‘professional’ he was supposed to relieve himself in front of, his fear worsened. His heart sank until it was digging against his quivering, swollen bladder. He knew he wouldn’t be able to go under these conditions.
Painful bolts of need shot through his body when he was finally brought to a urinal… But, then everything else about his surroundings registered. Not only was that strange man going to watch him the whole time, there was also a huge camera mounted onto the urinal aimed directly at where Kenneth’s dick would be once he’d pulled it out. And on top of that, there was a big window above the urinal, through which Kenneth could see it was unusually bright for 8:30 in the evening, and tons of people were walking about in front of it.
“You may go,” the strange man prompted.
Kenneth unzipped, desperate to try and get at least a little bit of release. But, he couldn’t. He felt more anxious than he’d ever felt in his life. He was trembling and shaking all over, cold sweat running in buckets down his back. His heart was racing, pulse pounding, he felt almost like he was going to hyperventilate. And, on top of all that, he just had to pee, so, so bad… He felt like he had a ticking time-bomb in his middle, and that it was only a matter of time before it tore through his skin and destroyed him.
“Go,” the strange man commanded. “This is the fifteenth time you have failed to perform. Perhaps I really should put a plug in you, maybe that’ll teach you.”
Kenneth already felt like he had a plug inside him… This was a nightmare!
Wait.
Duh.
This really WAS literally a nightmare. No way was any of this deranged bullshit real, no way had he fallen into a crude alternate dimension specifically tailored to torture his bladder. This was just a nightmare, all he had to do was wake himself up from it.
He reached a hand down and pinched his outer thigh. He did this as hard as he could, but still found himself trapped in this place. ‘Come on, Paulson…’ he thought. ‘Just wake up. That’s all you gotta do.’ Everything else faded away as he concentrated on forcing his body to wake itself up and free him from this Hell. He pinched himself in the arm, then smacked his own face.
Then, he woke up. Finally. He was in his room at the barrack Dwight was snoring like crazy just a few steps away. No more weird pissing rules. No more super public urinals… He was safe.
But, he realized that during his sleep, his hands had migrated between his legs and were now squeezing the living daylights out of his cock. His legs were so tangled and twisted up in his sheets that he thought it may take a minute to get himself unwrapped from them. His bladder, though… Oh, God, his bladder… It was searing inside him, and when he sat up, he felt what must have been a gallon of piss slosh down against his opening. His hands clenched tighter, but a loud hiss of pee soaked into his pajama bottoms anyway. He looked down at himself, could see that his shirt had ridden up a little and that his abdomen was protruding outward painfully. He’d gotten desperate enough that his bladder bulged several times, but he’d never seen his own body quite this swollen before. It kind of freaked him out.
Well. That explained the subject matter of his dream, anyway.
Instantly, he remembered key details from before he’d gone to bed. He’d gotten his hands on more of that super tasty soda, and in spite of promising to himself to never over-indulge again… He was only so strong. Eight cans down the hatch, a quick pee a few minutes later— Nowhere near enough time for any of the soda to go through him— and then right to bed.
All that soda had processed now. He felt every last sip coming back to haunt him with a vengeance. He looked across the room to the door that led to his salvation. It was a very short walk, but he knew he’d have to make it as quickly as possible to avoid disaster. He tried to move one of his feet in order to stand up… And the instant he untangled it from its companion, another spurt shot into his clenched hands.
He tried to steady himself, tried to stand once more, but when his foot touched the ground, he was peeing. “Ahhh!” he cried out. “D—Dwight!” He whispered harshly. Then, a little louder. “Dwight!”
Dwight’s eyes popped open, “Is something wrong!?” he asked in a panic, rushing over to Kenneth’s bed. “Are you oka—“
“Dwight, I have to pee so bad!” Kenneth whispered in a sharp hiss.
Dwight stared at him for a second. “You woke me up for— The restroom is right over—“
“I can’t move,” Kenneth said. “I can’t get up, or else…” His face tinted, dreading what he was about to say. “Or else it… comes out.”
“Oh…” Dwight’s eyes trailed down Kenneth’s body then, resting on the obvious protrusion in his center. “Jeez… I told you to take it easy on the soda, Kenneth…”
“I know, I should have listened!” Kenneth whined as he writhed. “I— I order you to find me a solution at once!”
Dwight sighed. He was GOING to do that anyway, he didn’t need to be ‘ordered’ to help his friend… “Okay, just… Hold tight for a minute, alright? Just one more minute.” He looked around, finding the answer quickly. He took a few canteens out from under his bed, knowing full-well that Kenneth was gonna end up needing quite a few of them in order to empty himself out completely. Dwight unscrewed the caps on all of them before returning to his friend. “Move your hands,” he said.
“I can’t—“
“You have to, it’s just a second, and then you’ll be okay.”
Kenneth reluctantly released his hold on his dripping penis, raising them to his mouth so he could chew on his knuckles instead while he scrunched his eyes shut. Then, he felt Dwight tug his pajama bottoms down a little bit. “Uh~m… I’m… Is it okay to touch you?” Kenneth was weird about physical contact, Dwight was about the only person he was okay with being touched by at all, still this was a little… different.
“Yes!” Kenneth said. Then, he felt Dwight’s hand take hold of his soft, leaky member, before pulling it from the confines of his pajamas. Then, he felt his tip make contact with the opening of the canteen. “Now!?” he pleaded eagerly.
“Ye—“
Before Dwight had gotten the entire word out, liquid was spouting into the canteen. “Ahhhh…” Kenneth sighed aloud. Memories of his nightmare came back to him as his body shuddered with the pleasure of his release. So, he couldn’t’ pee in a dream with some weird guy watching him, but he COULD pee in real life with his best friend holding his cock. Having a shy bladder really confused him sometimes, but he couldn’t think too hard about it right now.
He couldn’t think too hard about much of anything right now. This felt too good for him to be able to use his brain. His mind just kind of… stopped working, the only thing he could comprehend was “Pee feels good…” He kept sighing and shaking, his body was heating and cooling in rapid succession. There was this intense, tender and raw feeling that was leaving him weak.
Eventually, he felt Dwight quickly swap out for a new canteen, obviously trying to do it so fast that Kenneth wouldn’t need to try and pause his release. Kenneth didn’t think he could make himself stop for a second if he even tried, he felt a total lack of control over anything his body was doing. He felt so sensitive, so light, so floaty… Just. So, so good… His liquids just kept pouring and pouring and he had no idea how it was even possible for something to feel this amazing.
He felt another swap take place, and finally opened his eyes as he felt his stream start to wind down a little. He noticed then that Dwight’s face had a fierce blush, his eyes were big and watery, pupils ginormous. Now that some of the relief was clearing and a bit of his brain-power was able to return, the full reality of his current position really started setting in. ‘Dwight’s… Holding my… Thing. While I…’
He became very, very aware of how Dwight’s hand on his cock felt. Dwight had such a soft hand… and it had such a light, careful grip on his member. His penis was already the epicenter for all the pleasure Kenneth was feeling, but now that he was paying closer attention to Dwight’s touch, gently holding it as relief gushed from its tip and left it totally raw and sensitive… Kenneth felt some heat beginning to build.
Then, as the last drips of pee seeped into the canteen, and Kenneth moaned once more with relief, his body tender and completely overstimulated… He was… He was hard. He was hard as a rock. “Ah!” He cried out, trying to shield himself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! That wasn’t supposed to happen! I didn’t mean t—“
“It’s okay,” Dwight said, raising a hand. “Not the first time I’ve seen that, it’s okay.”
“But… Not when I was—“
“It’s fine,” Dwight said. “Um… Do you… I mean… Do you maybe want… some more help?”
“You… Want to… do… THAT stuff again?” Kenneth asked.
“Y—Yeah, um… To make you feel better,” Dwight said. “We don’t have to! Just… If you want to…Lay down, under the sheets,” Dwight said.
“I’d… Um. I’d like to,” Kenneth said. “Do you want to?”
“…Yes,” Dwight admitted. “A lot…”
Kenneth got under the sheets like Dwight had asked, and Dwight climbed in beside him. Heat flooded Kenneth’s chest at the sensation of the warm body next to his own. Dwight reached a hand down between them and lightly stroked Kenneth’s cock, making him shudder. Kenneth was so over-stimulated after so much desperation and mind-breaking relief, that just the smallest touch provided him with intense ecstasy. The knowledge that it was Dwight doing this to him just made this all feel that much better. Dwight was touching him, Dwight was so close to him, a part of him… Every stroke brought forth a new wave of pleasure, drew out feelings and emotions Kenneth hadn’t even known he could experience.
The feelings were all so, so good, but at the same time they were confusing. These things that happened in his chest and in his brain when Dwight held him, or smiled at him. The things Kenneth thought, the warmth that ricocheted through him when he saw Dwight with his shirt off, or when the two of them leaned in close to each other for just a few seconds longer than was necessary… Kenneth never felt this way from anything else, from anyone else.
When he was a teenager, he had sometimes heard other boys his age talking about girls, or about masturbation, usually in a joking way. Kenneth had even looked at some dirty photographs that his Father had in his desk a couple times. But, he could never figure out what was meant to be exciting about them. He didn’t know the people in the images, for all he knew they were assholes, or terribly annoying, or just altogether unpleasant to be around. He did not understand what enjoyment he was supposed to get from looking at the naked bodies of women that were strangers to him and could not figure out why anyone else would be so fascinated by them.
Still, he’d hidden one of the photographs with his things and some nights after Father had passed out, Kenneth would take the photo out and try touching himself while he gazed at it, looking at the two nude women. Nothing ever really happened… Which was confusing, as he was sure this was what he was supposed to do. Sometimes he’d start to stiffen from the stimulation, and it didn’t feel… bad, exactly, but it didn’t feel that good either. It just felt like something was missing.
The naked torso of a man was also visible in the photograph, he knew that there were men who… fancied other men in that way. It wasn’t spoken about, it was just such an awful thing for someone to have wrong with them that it wasn’t brought up in conversation. Kenneth dreaded the thought that he could be that way, and was almost relieved when switching his attention to the man in the photo brought him no more excitement than the women had. Still, he just felt like something was missing.
He never managed to ‘finish’ during any of these clumsy, early explorations of his body. The dirty photograph did nothing to help him achieve that, and aside from the occasional wet dream, Kenneth never climaxed. Kenneth would wake feeling sticky and gross, and with no memory of what exactly had transpired in his dream to prompt this reaction.
One night, unable to sleep, Kenneth tried once more to pleasure himself. He did not bother with the photograph this time, since it had proved itself useless. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine something. His mind wandered, recounting the days events, how he’d had a long discussion with Dwight that had gotten a tad emotional, and how in the end Dwight had held onto him, and Kenneth had held onto Dwight, and they’d just sat together like that in silence.
Dwight had been so warm…
Kenneth wondered if Dwight ever touched himself like this. He probably did, Kenneth reasoned. And he was probably a whole lot better at it than Kenneth was. What did Dwight think about while doing it? Kenneth pictured Dwight needfully caressing his shaft, his eyes shut, his forehead sweaty… And then Kenneth felt something new. A second later, he was no longer imagining Dwight stroking his own cock, but Kenneth’s instead. Dwight was breathlessly asking Kenneth if he felt good. Why was Dwight breathless? Why were his eyes going so glassy? Oh, because Kenneth was massaging HIS cock… They were touching each other everywhere, their skin lighting in flame, sweat running down their bare backs…
And, picturing all this clearly in his head, Kenneth finally climaxed. As the ecstasy faded, confusion and fear took its place. What did this mean? Did it mean he liked men? Then why hadn’t the man in the photograph ever excited him? Why hadn’t any of the other men he’d ever seen in his life ever been interesting in that way? Why only Dwight?
The confusion was still there after the first time he and Dwight had made Kenneth’s fantasy come true. And, it was still here now when they were doing it again. Kenneth felt so good, he loved knowing that the hand on his cock right now belonged to Dwight, the fact that it belonged to Dwight mattered more to Kenneth than anything else about the situation. Dwight was touching him, and Kenneth had never had any desire for anyone else to do the same.
Kenneth’s quivering and twitching was enough to cause Dwight’s own cock to stiffen. It was no question which of the two of them was more domineering, which was the leader, which was in charge. But here, just like when he helped Kenneth urinate, Dwight had all the control. He could turn Kenneth into mush just with a few light touches. He saw Kenneth’s eyelids fluttering as he squeezed the base of his cock, massaging his flesh. The sounds that came from Kenneth’s mouth were primal, needy and absolutely melodic to Dwight’s ears.
It didn’t take long, Kenneth’s body had been through so much that night that it took very little to send him over the edge. He ejaculated hard, jets of semen shooting against Dwight’s pant-legs and seeping into the sheets. For a fleeting second, Kenneth registered that even if he’d woken himself out of that dream, he hadn’t actually saved himself from ‘wetting’ his bed… He ground his teeth to keep from moaning too loudly, but couldn’t stop the whimpers from bubbling up in the back of his throat.
“You like that?” Dwight asked softly. “Did that feel—“
Kenneth pulled back the covers a little, eagerly tugging down Dwight’s pants, and a second later Dwight moaned as Kenneth took his length into his mouth. Kenneth sucked the head, tongue licking over the sensitive flesh. Dwight made needy, choked off sounds as Kenneth’s tongue worked its magic. Kenneth could be so… aggressive at times that Dwight wasn’t TOO surprised to feel Kenneth lightly dragging his teeth up his shaft. Dwight felt alarmed at first, certain that pain was going to flare up any second now, but it didn’t. It felt… really, really good. It was such a light touch that it made Dwight feel tingly.
Kenneth had never done this before. The other time they’d fooled around like this, Dwight had sucked him off, but Kenneth hadn’t had the chance to return the favor. He was surprised that he liked this so much. Dwight tasted amazing, which was something he hadn’t expected at all. And, hearing and feeling the amount of pleasure Dwight was deriving from this was almost enough to get Kenneth hard all over again. Kenneth had been worried he’d be bad at this, but Dwight seemed to think he was doing a great job if those noises he was making were anything to go by.
Kenneth realized his teeth were ending up where he hadn’t intended them to and made himself stop. “Am I hurting you?” he felt stupid asking, since none of the sounds Dwight was making indicated pain…
“No,” Dwight whimpered needfully. “Don’t stop now, I’m so—“
Kenneth went back to what he’d been doing. He worked what he couldn’t fit inside his mouth with his hand. He felt Dwight’s cock throb, leaking precome onto his tongue. Kenneth swallowed around him, and that was it; Dwight came hard into Kenneth’s mouth. “Ah, God!” Dwight exclaimed. “I’m sorry! I should have warned you!”
Kenneth sat up and did nothing for a second, unsure of what was actually expected of him now. He knew he had to get rid of it, so swallowed it down, some spilling down his chin. It didn’t taste… Bad, or anything. Just, that really wasn’t something he was used to doing. And he worried that that wasn’t what he was supposed to have done.
“Did you…?”
Kenneth nodded, red-faced. “Should I not have?”
“It’s fine,” Dwight said with a blush. “Just surprised is all.”
Kenneth looked away. ‘Dwight is cute when he blushes…’ he thought. And then, he thought he may have understood what had been missing all those years ago when he’d tried to pleasure himself to a photograph of nude strangers. He hadn’t known those people. He’d felt nothing for them. But, he felt everything in the world for Dwight. He felt warmth, happiness, companionship… He felt like Dwight was the one thing he could never live without, and that no day could be completely horrible so long as he got to end it with Dwight beside him. He felt…
This… This was what love was, wasn’t it? That was what Kenneth had needed…
“D…Dwight?” Kenneth said. He’d always thought he and Dwight loved each other, but as friends, but this… wasn’t really what ‘friends’ was, was it?
“Hm?” Dwight asked.
“I… I think I…” Kenneth looked away. “I… Might… I—“
“I know, Kenneth,” Dwight said. “And I think I love you, too. More than anything.” |
The next morning, Dwight woke with Kenneth’s arms possessively wrapped around him. Glancing down he saw small marks dented into his chest where Kenneth had dug his nail in as if to lay claim to him. Dwight did not feel the slightest bit perturbed that Kenneth had marked him up like this, the idea that Kenneth wanted to express ‘ownership’ of him made him feel good.
What didn’t feel good at the moment, though, was Dwight’s bladder. He needed his morning piss and he needed it now. As much as he wished he could stay cuddled up with Kenneth forever, he knew it was impossible. He’d pee his pants eventually, for one. And, more importantly, if they were found this way— only partially clothed and snuggled in bed together… Dwight didn’t even want to THINK about what would happen to them.
Of course, Kenneth was always hard to rouse from sleep, and Dwight knew he was going to have a hard time getting it done. He did know the alarm would be going off pretty soon, and that Kenneth seldom managed to sleep through that… But, Kenneth’s tight embrace was also putting a lot of pressure onto Dwight’s already uncomfortable bladder. “Kenneth,” Dwight said loudly. “Up.”
Kenneth didn’t move.
Dwight squirmed and fidgeted in his place, both from discomfort and in an attempt to get Kenneth to wake up.
Slowly, Kenneth’s eyes started to draw open. When he realized his current position, he suddenly appeared to be filled by a burst of energy. He sat up quickly and wrapped his arms around himself instead. “O—Oh!”
Dwight tried not to frown at this. Kenneth really didn’t have to act like touching Dwight had burned him, did he?
“S—So, last night wasn’t a dream?” Kenneth asked.
Dwight shook his head. Was Kenneth saying he dreamed about the two of them getting intimate often? “It was real.”
Dwight wasn’t really sure what he expected Kenneth’s response to be, but jumping out of bed and shouting a quick “Okay!” wasn’t it.
“It wasn’t bad, was it?” Dwight asked, his need to urinate temporarily forgotten as he worried Kenneth hadn’t actually enjoyed the night’s activities after all and that things were going to be weird between them now.
“N—Nope,” Kenneth said, his voice abnormally high. “It wasn’t bad.” He just stood there for a moment, trying to look anywhere but at Dwight. “Oh, I need to get dressed!” he decided, hurriedly getting his clothes and rushing into the restroom.
This dismayed Dwight for several reasons. First, he didn’t really like how Kenneth seemed to want to ignore everything that had happened last night— That’s what he’d done the first time, and Dwight had been really hopeful that now that it had happened again and Kenneth had basically told him he loved him, things would be different. Second, he’d also allowed himself to hope that after everything, Kenneth would be a little less bashful around him. Dwight got dressed and undressed out in the open when he and Kenneth were the only people in the room all the time— And he’d never managed to miss the way Kenneth stared; He always tried to pretend he wasn’t, but Dwight could tell. He’d been hoping Kenneth was going to be comfortable doing the same now.
Third, Dwight still really needed to pee and now Kenneth had locked the door to the toilet. Dwight stood outside the door, shifting from foot to foot and silently urging Kenneth to hurry up. When he heard the seat of the toilet being lifted followed by the muffled sound of trickling liquid and a small sigh from his friend’s lips, Dwight crossed his legs and leaned into the wall for support.
A few minutes later, Kenneth came back out wearing his uniform. Dwight loved the way Kenneth looked in his uniform. He could still remember the first time he saw him wearing it. The way the material made his shoulders appear broader, the added height the boots gave him, and the general air of authority it drenched him in had made Dwight see Kenneth in a way he hadn’t before. Looking back, he knew he’d been… attracted to Kenneth for a long time, at least since they were thirteen and Dwight suddenly became aware of the funny way his chest felt whenever Kenneth touched him in any way. But, seeing him in his uniform for the first time… Dwight had needed to work very hard not to show any outward signs of what he thought about it.
He thought that, by now, after seeing Kenneth in uniform all the time for so long, the effect ought to have worn off. But, it hadn’t. And, after last night, it was stronger than ever. “Um… Are we going to… Talk about it?” he asked.
“What is there to talk about?” Kenneth responded, a blush spreading across his face.
“Last night,” Dwight said. “Did… I mean, did you like it?”
“I did,” Kenneth said. “But, we cannot… Do things like that often. I don’t know what I was thinking, I—“
“So, it was a mistake?”
“N—No!” Kenneth said quickly and sharply. “Just… You know how dangerous it would be. If someone found out…”
“I… Know,” Dwight said, rocking back and forth on his heels.
“And… Talking about it very much, that’s dangerous too. Someone could overhear.”
Dwight just nodded. “But, I—“
“Dwight, I… Um… I…Have… ‘Those feelings’ for you,” Kenneth said. “You are the only person I think I could ever… Feel… warmly… towards. But, outside of this room, none of ‘that’ exists, okay? And we really shouldn’t be doing things like that, it’s… It’s too—“
“Dangerous,” Dwight repeated. “I know.” He knew Kenneth was right, even if he didn’t like it. And he also knew that ‘I feel warmly towards you’ was probably the closest thing to an ‘I love you’ he was going to get out of Kenneth for now.
When Dwight arrived at his post for the day, he discovered that his supervisor was Elizabeth since Bryce was unwell. This would be her first time supervising, and she was nervous. Normally, Dwight didn’t mind the boredom of standing around all day too much, but today he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he’d rather be snuggled up in bed with Kenneth instead. He settled into his position, and after only a few minutes he suddenly remembered his earlier need for the toilet, and how he’d gotten so caught up talking to Kenneth that he’d neglected to tend to it.
Ordinarily, needing to go while working wasn’t a big deal, he’d just turn around, unzip and relieve himself where he was. No problem. But, ordinarily, his supervisor was another man, not Elizabeth. He couldn’t expose himself and urinate while a woman watched him, that just seemed wrong. Elizabeth was trying to strike up a conversation with him, and Dwight decided to go along with it, hoping it may distract him from his urge. But, he hadn’t emptied his bladder since yesterday evening and he knew his chances of making it to the end of his shift dry were slim. That would require him holding it for nearly 24 hours!
Elizabeth, enjoying the opportunity to socialize outside of the medical building, kept asking Dwight all manner of questions. Dwight responded to them as best he could, his knees continually pinching inwards to rub up against each other. He knew he was being silly, all he had to do was ask her to turn around for a minute and he’d be free to go, but he ran into the problem of not really knowing what to say to her. If Bryce were supervising him, he knew he’d be able to say “Bryce, I need to take a leak now, alright?” and sure Bryce would probably roll his eyes at Dwight’s lack of restraint over his body, but he wouldn’t be bothered by it.
But, Dwight knew that with women there was specific etiquette he was supposed to follow. He was supposed to be more cordial and polite when speaking to a woman than he was speaking to another man. Dwight was terrible at talking to women, Bryce often scolded him for using vulgar phrasing if a woman was within earshot. “That is completely improper behavior, Smith!” Bryce would shout if Dwight happened to make an off-color joke in mixed company.
Dwight was sure the phrase “I need to take a leak now!” would be seen as very vulgar. As would “I have to piss!” or “I’ve got to pee!” He didn’t want to make Elizabeth uncomfortable by crassly announcing his desire to empty his bladder. He knew there were more polite ways to inform her of his need, but after spending so much time in the company of other men, he couldn’t really remember any.
‘Kenneth says he just has to relieve himself a lot,’ Dwight thought as he clenched his thighs together at another painful spasm. ‘That’s more polite, isn’t it?’ Dwight was pretty sure it was, but then he recalled an incident where Kenneth had quietly whispered that into his ear while they were at a restaurant, and Bryce had overheard. Bryce scolded Kenneth, telling him not to talk about his bodily functions where the waitresses could hear. “Have you no shame?”
Kenneth had turned so red after that, and he’d been so embarrassed by Bryce calling him out that it had taken Dwight nearly ten minutes to soothe him enough so that he could urinate in the restroom. So, Dwight decided that even something like ‘I have to relieve myself’ was too tasteless to vocalize around women.
Elizabeth kept trying to talk to Dwight. She’d asked him if he still had any pains in the areas where he’d been shot previously. She’d asked him how Kenneth was doing— Which had caused him to blush for some reason.
Dwight jiggled one leg as he tried to lean most of his weight onto the other. “He’s fine,” Dwight said. At least Elizabeth was asking him easy questions, nothing that required much thought. Dwight had to pee so badly it was nigh impossible to think of anything else. Luckily, Dwight knew pretty much everything about Kenneth.
“His…” Elizabeth lowered her voice. “His… ‘issue’? The one he got the infection from? Is that… Improving at all?”
Dwight rocked back and forth on his heels. He knew Kenneth wouldn’t be too happy if he found out he was discussing his pee shyness with Elizabeth without him there. “It kind of varies, but that’s not really my place to say. I have been helping him though.”
Elizabeth nodded. She knew she should have been asking Kenneth about this instead of Dwight. It was HIS problem, after all. She changed the topic, instead asking Dwight about books he liked. Dwight responded to everything she said, but he seemed distracted by something. Since this was her first time supervising, she didn’t know if she should reprimand a guard if he got too… antsy. She knew they were supposed to stand still, and Dwight wasn’t doing that at all right now.
Dwight couldn’t stand still even if someone put a gun to his head and ordered him to. If he leaned onto one foot for too long, he’d feel pee beginning to trickle its way down his shaft. But then, if he shifted his position too quickly, his bladder would shake enough that he’d lose a few spurts into his boxers. His hands, which he dared not stick between his legs like he longed to, continually pulled at his belt as he tried to prevent it from squeezing his bladder too roughly.
‘Oh my God, I have to go!’ he thought. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to pee before leaving the barrack. He’d already been so desperate for relief then! How could it have slipped his mind when he KNEW that he needed it so much? He tried again to think of a proper way to tell Elizabeth that his bladder was full to bursting and that if he didn’t whip it out and spray the dirt with piss soon he’d explode and everything in a fifty mile radius would get covered in pee.
He was pretty sure that THAT statement wouldn’t be proper at all, even if it WAS an accurate description of how he was feeling.
He thought back to the night he first met Kenneth. Kenneth had been trudging through the snow after his Father had thrown him out of the house. Dwight had bumped into him and, fearing the other boy would freeze to death, brought him inside to warm up. Kenneth fell asleep on the floor pretty quickly. When morning came and he was still there, Dwight wanted to be a good host so asked if he needed anything.
Kenneth, whom Dwight realized was shaking almost as much as he’d been when still stuck out in the cold, started to stutter. “I… Um… I need to… Uh… I need to pass water.”
This had confused Dwight a lot at first, he’d never heard anyone say that before in his life. But, when he noticed how tightly crossed the other boy’s shaking legs were, he figured out what it must have meant and showed Kenneth where the toilet was. Looking back, the surprise on Kenneth’s face when Dwight informed him that he could just… go use it, that he didn’t need to ask anyone’s permission, that he wouldn’t be in trouble for peeing when he obviously really had to go, should have been a bigger sign to Dwight that something was wrong at his new friend’s home.
Kenneth later explained to Dwight that ‘I need to pass water’ was a polite way to ask for the toilet which his Mother had taught him. So, maybe it was the correct thing to say to Elizabeth? But, then he remembered once more that Kenneth had once said those exact words when a woman was in earshot and Bryce had scolded him for it. So, that one must have been too vulgar as well.
The more Dwight thought about it, however, the more he realized that BRYCE had gotten upset at these things an awful lot more than any of the women ever had…
Elizabeth kept talking to Dwight, occasionally gently reminding him that he was supposed to keep still. 'Is it the boredom that’s bothering him?' she wondered. 'Does he not like being made to stay in one place for so long?' She’d also begun to notice the way he couldn’t stop tugging at his belt, like it was hurting him in some way. She couldn’t figure out why it would be, though. Even if he found it a little uncomfortable, he should have been used to it by now, right?
He was also getting very sweaty in spite of the cold temperature. She could see his forehead starting to shine and dark patches forming underneath his armpits. And while, yes, he was moving around quite a bit, she didn’t think it should have been enough to overexert him. She knew from his medical records that Dwight was in terrific shape, standing around for a prolonged period of time absolutely shouldn’t have been making him sweat like he’d just run a marathon on the hottest day of the year.
Then there was the way he was breathing! Short, panicked, choking gasps… Elizabeth couldn’t help but feel worried. She was growing more and more certain that Dwight must have been sick. Most likely with whatever Bryce had. And if two people here were sick, pretty soon everyone was going to be… She wished she’d brought a thermometer from a medical building to check his temperature, but she hadn’t been expecting to need one.
“Dwight?” she said, her voice gentle. “Are you feeling alright?”
‘No,’ Dwight thought. ‘I’m feeling like my bones are filled with piss.’ But, instead of saying that, he just nodded his head. “I—I’m fi—fine,” he said. He couldn’t tell her that he had to pee, so that meant he HAD to say he was fine!
Elizabeth’s expression softened. She knew how a lot of these guys got. They hated admitting that they felt too unwell to do their jobs. “Let me check your temperature…” Since she lacked a thermometer, she settled for placing her hand against his forehead. It didn’t feel warm, but he certainly felt awfully clammy, and he trembled more and more under her touch. “You’re shaking…” she said.
‘That’s because I need the bathroom REALLY bad!’ Dwight thought urgently. He SO badly wanted to just tell her! “I’m sorry…”
Elizabeth glanced back and forth, unsure what she was looking for. There wasn’t anyone to take Dwight’s place, so she couldn’t just send him back to bed for the day… “It’s fine, but are you sure you’re okay?”
‘I’m very far from okay!’ a voice in Dwight’s mind screamed. ‘I think the piss is gonna start pouring out my nose!’ He twisted his hips back and forth, pee beading warmly at his opening, dribbles escaping down his legs every few seconds. Against his will, and in spite of his best efforts to prevent it, tears started to form in his eyes.
Elizabeth noticed right away. Were his eyes watering because he was sick, or was he actually… Crying? Why would he be crying? “Dwight? Are you in pain? Where does it hurt?”
Everywhere. It hurt everywhere. Pee was filling every last space in his body, horrific pressure and cramps assailing him all over. As more tears came, an enormous spurt of piss jetted from his member, hissing loudly as it soaked the front of his boxers. “Ah—!” he cringed as his hands flew between his legs, pinching himself shut as much as he could manage, but he was just so god damned full that his hands barely provided any resistance. Pee just kept coming and coming, trickling and leaking and dripping. He felt his crotch growing saturated as he fought not to completely lose it.
Elizabeth stared for a moment, starting to feel a little silly. He wasn’t sick at all. All his squirming, bouncing, whimpering and sweating were just because he needed to use the restroom. “Dwight…” she said, feeling a funny smile spread across her face. “If you needed to take a leak, why didn’t you just say so?”
Dwight went still for a brief second, stunned. Here he was not admitting that he had a full bladder because he thought doing so would offend Elizabeth, and yet she’d just gone and used the phrase ‘take a leak’ herself. “B—Because, I’m not supposed to… I shouldn’t say that to a woman,” now that he was explaining it out loud, it sounded ridiculous. “Bryce always—“
“Never you mind what Bryce says,” Elizabeth told him. “Bryce likes to think he’s a gentleman, I know… But, Dwight; Are all men the same?”
“O—Of course not,” Dwight said. Now that Elizabeth knew he was about to explode, he didn’t dare let go of his grip on himself, and he allowed his body to twist itself up into however many knots it wanted.
“So, why would all women be the same?” Elizabeth asked. “I’m sure there are women who would be stuffy enough to get angry at you for saying you need to pee—I’m sure there are men like that too— but dealing with bodily fluids is part of my job. Why would I care if you said you had to pee?”
Dwight felt even more ridiculous now. He remembered how Elizabeth had even said once that she assisted injured women with relieving themselves if they couldn’t get out of bed. So, obviously that meant she didn’t care if someone told her that they needed to go. All of this agony he’d put himself through had been pointless.
“S—So, I can go?” Dwight asked, hopeful. His bladder still hadn’t stopped its relentless leaking.
Still smiling at how silly she thought Dwight was, Elizabeth nodded. “Of course you can! You poor thing, stop hurting yourself.”
Dwight quickly turned around. ‘Finally! Finally!’ He reluctantly released his grip on his cock and started to unbutton his uniform. ‘Finally… God! Can’t wait one more second!’ he thought.
His bladder agreed with that thought completely. As he began to take apart his buttons, he barely noticed the huge drop in pressure within his body until it registered to him how sodden his crotch was getting. Once he realized that, the intense sound of hissing liquid hit his ears. ‘Ah! No!’ He scrambled at his buttons, trying his best to undo them so he could at least kind-of make it… But, it was no use, the material around his crotch was so slick and slippery now that he couldn’t even manage the buttons. Wave after wave of pee poured out of him, drenching his legs and the ground at his feet.
His accident just went on and on and on. He hadn’t peed for so long, his bladder had been completely full, absolutely no space left inside of it. It wasn’t going to all drain out quickly. Buckets of shame and an avalanche of relief fell over him. He was actually doing this, having an accident all because of a bunch of silly, bad decisions. But… God, it felt so good to let go. He’d needed this so badly, he just couldn’t help but enjoy it a little.
When his faucet finally trickled to a stop and he was standing there in his clammy, drenched clothes, he didn’t dare to turn around. “I’m… I’m so sorry…” he said. “I couldn’t hold it anymore.”
Elizabeth, unsure of what to do, stepped closer and put a hand to his shoulder. “Poor thing…” she said once more.
Her pity made him feel worse, and to his dismay more tears began to fall. This was childish. All of it. Having an… accident. And then crying about it, too. “I’m so gross…”
“Don’t say that,” Elizabeth said. “Everyone pees.”
“Not in their pants. Not when they’re adults.”
“It’s okay… It got to be… Too much,” Elizabeth said. “But, see. You should speak up when you have to go, so this doesn’t happen again. Go back and change, quickly so no one sees you.”
“Please don’t tell…” Dwight sniffled.
“I won’t,” Elizabeth promised. |
Kenneth had been ordered to help Bryce reorganize the supply room. Perhaps it was just because Kenneth was so on edge that Bryce would somehow be able to tell what had happened the previous night, but he was even more tetchy with the other than usual. They had exchanged so many insults, and argued over so many trivial things like which shelf things should be on or what direction a box should be facing that by the time they were finally done they both just wanted to leave and not speak to one another again for the next five hundred centuries.
But, Kenneth in particular had one thing he wanted to do now even more than he wanted to get away from Bryce. Kenneth had first noticed his need for the toilet several hours ago when Bryce was scolding him about how he was an idiot for accidentally placing one bullet into the wrong box. Kenneth had been steadfast in ignoring his urge, but it had continued to build and grow worse all afternoon. Since he was already in such a foul mood with Bryce he’d tried his best not to show any signs of need. As he was now aware of his habit of knuckle biting when he had to pee, and of the fact Bryce knew what it meant, he had repeatedly forced his hands to clasp behind his back whenever he found them straying too close to his mouth.
“Why do you keep doing that?” Bryce had repeatedly asked. “It’s annoying. Knock it off.”
“Your face is annoying,” Kenneth had replied. It wasn’t his best come-back, but considering he was having to think on his feet while holding back a full bladder he didn’t think it was too terrible.
Now though, it was finally over. He could finally leave. He could race back to his barrack, lock himself in his restroom and pee for all he was worth, and it would feel amazing. His body was already going a little loose just at the thought. Relief was coming. Beautiful, wonderful relief.
Then, he gripped the knob of the supply room’s door and found that it wouldn’t budge. As panic flared through his body, he swore his bladder immediately swelled up even more. He clenched his thighs together and tried not to step in place or dance around. “Bryce, the door is stuck….”
“You’re just too stupid to open it,” Bryce said. “Either that, or your little noodle arms aren’t strong enough…” He reached out a hand and tried to tug the door open, but he didn’t have any better luck than Kenneth had. “Oh, Christ…” Bryce grumbled. “I guess you were right for once. But, I mean, even a broken clock is right twice a day.”
“All our clocks are on military time, stupid,” Kenneth said in an attempt to distract himself. His eyes had clenched shut. He hated feeling trapped. And feeling trapped when his bladder was so full was one of the worst things ever. “So, if one of them breaks it’s only right ONCE a day.”
Bryce stomped away from the door and threw himself down into a chair. “God… You pedantic little… If I HAD to get stuck in here, why’d it have to be with YOU?”
Kenneth turned away from Bryce. This room was feeling a lot smaller now that he knew he couldn’t leave it, and it was making his skin feel itchy. His bladder was also feeling a whole Hell of a lot fuller now that he knew he couldn’t empty it. He headed to the opposite side of the room from Bryce. “Wh—When do you think we’ll get out?” he asked, trying to keep any hint of panic or desperation out of his voice.
“I guess whenever someone needs something from this room,” Bryce replied.
“When will that be?” Kenneth asked.
“How the Hell should I know?” Bryce said. “Stop your whining and shut up. This is awful enough without having to listen to your voice.”
Kenneth actually went quiet after that, and when several minutes passed without any indignant squawking from the little twerp, Bryce felt… Well, not concerned. Definitely not that. Because he hated Kenneth and didn’t care about him at all. Not even a little bit. But… Something ‘like’ concern, anyway. It wasn’t like Kenneth to be silent. “What’s the matter?” he prodded. “Realized your insults are futi—“ Bryce stopped himself.
Kenneth was trapped.
Kenneth was trapped in a small, dark room with no way out.
That meant that Kenneth was scared.
That meant Kenneth was probably thinking about a lot of the really awful things that had happened to him, the things that weren’t funny at all and that he didn’t deserve to be mocked for.
Bryce stood up and walked closer to his enemy. “Hey…” he said. “Are you okay?”
Kenneth was hunched over in one corner, his knees drawn up to his chest, attempting to conceal the way his hands had buried themselves in his crotch. He wasn’t okay. His bladder was so full and this room was so tight… Still, he nodded. Telling Bryce that he wasn’t fine wouldn’t do him any good. Bryce couldn’t fix any of this. Bryce couldn’t make the door open, or make the room bigger, or magically summon a private restroom with sound-proof walls that Kenneth could rush into in order to finally relieve his poor, aching bladder.
“It’s boring in here,” Bryce said. “But, I have a book. You want me to read it to you?”
Kenneth turned to look at Bryce now, surprised. His Mother had been the only person to ever read to him, and it had always made him feel safe and cared for. Not even Dwight had ever read a book to him— Although he had tried. Dwight just wasn’t good at reading out loud. Neither he nor Kenneth was really sure why, but reading was hard for Dwight. To Dwight, the words all seemed to move about the page and tangle up on another. Kenneth had been so confused when Dwight explained that to him, because that never happened to him when he read. Dwight had been equally confused when Kenneth said he’d never had that problem, as he’d been convinced that was just what reading was like.
A book would be good, Kenneth decided. A book would distract him from needing to pee, at least a little. He nodded, so Bryce got his book and began to read. For a while, Kenneth’s assumption that the story would drown out the needy whines of his bladder proved true. But, then Bryce got to one particular chapter, and suddenly peeing was all Kenneth could think of once again.
The story Bryce had been reading was a science fiction novel, and in this chapter, the main character was searching for something on an alien planet where everything was powered by water. Water was absolutely everywhere. The narrative described gushing fountains, dazzling waterfalls and liquid trickling and splashing against the paddles of water wheels.
To make this chapter all the more painful for Kenneth to listen to, the author had chosen to inject a little comedy into the plot line. The main character was desperate for the restroom, and had just learned that the alien species inhabiting this watery planet did not urinate like humans did, and so there were no toilets anywhere. To make it worse for the poor protagonist, exposing one’s private parts was considered an awful taboo by the alien society, so he couldn’t just whip it out and go on the ground anywhere either.
The descriptions of the main character’s urinary distress were so vivid and intense that they were enough to make Kenneth’s own bladder throb painfully in sympathy. Kenneth was sure the poor guy in the book had to go almost as bad as he did now. He was also sure that, had he not been in such dire need of a toilet break himself, he would have found the book’s scene pretty funny. Particularly when the unfortunate protagonist had to attempt to explain to the aliens what he had to do and why he really, really did not want a glass of water.
Kenneth very nearly did laugh at one line, but managed to stifle it. He knew that any laughter now would lead to a leak.
“‘I am dying,’” Bryce continued reading, his legs beginning to cross slightly. “‘The gushing, the trickling, the splashing… It is too much for my body to handle. Drip, drip, drip. Everywhere I go there is more hissing, spraying liquid, and nowhere to dispose of what I’m holding back. I curse myself for every beverage I’ve ever consumed, for every opportunity to use a toilet that I’ve ever skipped. If I don’t find the orb soon and get back to my ship, there’s going to be even more water on this planet, but I don’t think it will be of any use to the Hydrateions’ society.”
Bryce turned the page, bouncing a little. “Splash, splash, splash, the water continues to fall as I hobble on crossed legs through the hall. Drip, drop, drip, drop… Trickle, trickle… Sheets of water cascade down the windows as I try to look outside. There is a small pot near the end of this hallway that contains a blooming plant, and my body pleads with me that I have to water it, I force myself forwards, past the plant, dreaming of the toilet facilities onboard my ship.”
The chapter went on for a while, Kenneth shifting around the whole time. Every time he found a position that was a little more comfortable, it would only take a minute or two for his bladder to start protesting again and he’d be forced to keep moving.
By the time Bryce reached the last page of the chapter, he was hunched over oddly and was rocking back and forth on his feet. “‘At long last, I have arrived at my ship,’” he read. “‘I barely have the presence of mind to tuck the orb into its containment device before I am moving as fast as I can to the restroom. I exit it several minutes later, finally having regained my ability to walk upright in a straight line. I check my map, making a mental note never to disembark onto an alien planet without first handling any needs my body may have.’”
Bryce exhaled loudly through his mouth. He’ d read this book a few times, but he’d forgotten about that scene, as well as the effect it always had on him. The descriptions were just… So intense, and his bladder was already highly suggestible considering how much the sound of running water always made him need to go. He dog-eared the page he was on. “Uh—Um, Paulson… That… Kind of made me… Need a little break,” he said with a blush. He couldn’t believe he’d just admitted it so candidly, but maybe since Kenneth’s claustrophobia had made him so sensitive in this moment, Bryce didn’t mind showing a little vulnerability of his own.
Kenneth, rocking back and forth where he sat with his knees still against his chest, just nodded. His grip on his crotch had gotten significantly tighter over the course of that chapter. “Th—There’s nowhere to go, though,” he said.
Bryce looked around the room, relieved to see that the trash bin here was completely solid, and pretty much empty. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t defile something like this, but with his bladder so full and no clue of when they’d be getting out… “Sorry, I think I’m going to have to use the trash can,” he said.
Kenneth winced as it dawned on him that Bryce was about to relieve himself right in front of him. He wanted to snap at Bryce not to, but he didn’t want another argument. Not when they’d just been getting along, not when his bladder was too full for him to think clearly. Besides, he knew Bryce would demand to know why the Hell he COULDN’T piss in the bin if he wanted to, and Kenneth didn’t want to be forced to say “Because I’m BURSTING and I don’t want to have to listen to you go when I can’t!”
So, when Bryce quickly made his way over to the trash bin and unzipped himself, Kenneth tried to blot out the sound. But, he couldn’t do much to make that happen. He couldn’t cover his ears because he needed them pressed into his cock to keep any leakage at bay. So, when Bryce’s stream noisily spattered into the trash can, Kenneth heard every last drop. He also heard the satisfied sigh from Bryce’s lips, and his bladder lurched and throbbed, begging to be allowed to do the same thing.
‘I can’t,’ Kenneth told it bitterly. ‘Because YOU won’t let me.’ He realized how silly it was to be having a mental argument with one of his organs, but he couldn’t help it. He hated his bladder, it was one of his worst enemies. It constantly did everything it could to upset him. It filled and filled and demanded to be emptied, then refused to comply once he’d brought it to the toilet it had been yelling at him for.
Kenneth scrunched up even more, his eyes clenching shut as he worried at his lip and continued holding onto himself. He jiggled around as much as he could in his position and hoped against hope that someone would discover the stuck door and set about freeing them soon.
He heard Bryce zip back up and walk much more slowly back towards him. “Phew, that’s better. Sorry about that, that chapter ALWAYS—“ Bryce stopped. “Um, Paulson?” he asked, noticing Kenneth’s trembling. “Are you okay?”
Kenneth said nothing. There was no point in saying anything now. He was trapped, and his bladder was just gonna keep filling, and there was nowhere to go. He was just like the character in the book, dying to pee with zero options for relief.
“I know…” Bryce said. “You… Don’t like tight spaces. This is hard for you. And I’m sorry Dwight isn’t here to help you through it.” He stopped himself. He couldn’t let himself sound so soft. “N—Not that I care. Dumbass.”
“Bryce…” Kenneth said. “Um… That…. Scene kind of made me… I… Haven’t… I haven’t peed since this morning… I really, really—“
“Oh…” Bryce said, understanding. He should have known. Of COURSE Kenneth hadn’t gone to the toilet all day. Of COURSE he was dying to do so now. “There’s… Um. There’s room left in the trash bin…”
Kenneth turned away, his hands kneading into his crotch. He stretched his legs out across the floor, then crossed them together. He didn’t care if Bryce saw where his hands were anymore. “I can’t…”
“I’ll stand WAY on the other side of the room,” Bryce promised. “I’ll face the opposite direction. AND I’ll shut my eyes. And cover my ears. It will be like I’m not even here.” He cringed at himself. He did NOT want Kenneth to think he WANTED to help him out. Quickly, he added “S—Since you’re so dumb you don’t know how to piss.” Bryce was dismayed when Kenneth did not immediately insult him back. ‘Oh, jeez,’ Bryce thought. ‘It must be hurting him bad…’
“That won’t… What if someone comes and fixes the door before I’m finished?”
“That is incredibly unlikely,” Bryce said.
“But, what if they DO.”
Bryce sighed. He remembered the night when he’d handcuffed himself to Kenneth and had ultimately ended up assisting him with draining his bladder when he’d realized he’d gone too far. ‘I guess if I’ve done it once I can do it again…’ Bryce gestured for Kenneth to get up. “Okay,” he said, forcing a bit more annoyance into his tone than he actually felt. “I’m gonna help you again.
Kenneth struggled to his feet. He’d been sitting down for so long his legs had fallen asleep, and he stumbled a little bit. This shook his bladder horribly and a spurt of pee shot forth from his tip. “Nnnnnh!!” he whimpered.
“You okay?” Bryce asked.
“My legs are sore,” Kenneth said harshly through his embarrassment. ‘He’s going to HELP you,’ Kenneth reminded himself. ‘Be nice or he might not want to help anymore…’ Cringing, he forced himself to admit; “And… I… I’m really bursting. I haven’t… I haven’t been to the toilet for so long.”
“You’re gonna go soon,” Bryce said. “Don’t worry.” He cleared his throat. “And— And then you can stop all this whining! God, you’re annoying!”
Kenneth still did not attempt to insult him back.
Bryce frowned. A non-combative Kenneth was just wrong. Kenneth not fighting with him turned the planet completely on its side and made Bryce feel uncomfortable in so many ways. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you sorted out.” He led Kenneth over to the trash bin.
Kenneth hurried to unzip himself. So many times, he’d thought to himself ‘I need to go SO badly this time! It’s gotta just happen, right?!’ and every single time he’d been wrong. He didn’t know what it was that compelled him to keep on getting his hopes up when he knew that it would never happen. He’d never be able to simply unzip, take aim, and release his stream. Peeing would always have to be a complicated ordeal of figuring out what his uncooperative body wanted him to do before it gave in.
“Okay,” Bryce said. “Now, I’ve done this with you before and it worked, remember? That means it can happen again.”
Kenneth tried to nod and feel as confident as Bryce apparently did.
Bryce began rubbing Kenneth’s shoulders. He wasn’t as good at it as Dwight was, not that Kenneth was going to tell him that. Dwight just had the experience, he knew all the spots where Kenneth was most tense and he knew how much pressure to apply. Dwight just knew these things now, they came naturally to him after so many years of soothing his friend’s stage fright away.
“You can do it,” Bryce said. “You’re one of MY subordinates after all, which means you’re the best of the best. So, you’ve got to be able to do this, right?”
Kenneth tried to lean into the encouragement. His bladder was so freaking full, he felt it flaring and shaking inside his body. “I’m going to explode…” he whimpered.
“Good,” Bryce said. “You NEED to explode.”
Bryce kept kneading Kenneth’s shoulders and Kenneth kept trying to pee. If it was Dwight doing this, Kenneth knew he would have urinated by now. But, since it wasn’t Dwight, it was going to take a lot longer. He kept trying to convince himself that it WOULD happen eventually, though. Except, as more and more time passed and Kenneth continued to be subjected to the relentless tormenting thrashing of his aching bladder, he started to lose hope and a whimper escaped from the back of his throat.
Bryce was startled by the pained sound his subordinate made. “Hey… It’s alright,” he said.
“It’s not!” Kenneth cried out. “It really, really hurts!”
“I know…” Bryce said, recalling the day his own bladder had decided to lock itself shut and how bad that had felt. He didn’t understand why this wasn’t working. He was doing the same thing he did the first time, and it had worked okay then… He knew Kenneth did not feel the same level of trust and security with him that he did with Dwight, but he liked to think Kenneth was aware that he at least… sort of, almost cared about him. Sometimes.
Bryce wished there was a sink in here, certain that the sound of running water would work wonders on Kenneth’s stopped-up bladder. Bryce supposed he could try DESCRIBING the noise to him, but he’d never been very creative, he lacked the ability to paint a vivid picture with his words and make someone feel as though they were actually seeing or hearing something. He just wasn’t talented at that like the authors of his favorite books all were…
…
That was it! “Kenneth, hold on for a second, I thought of something else that may work,” Bryce said.
If anyone ever asked him, Kenneth would deny it until the day he died, but when Bryce stopped trying to rub soothing patterns into his shoulders Kenneth groaned with dismay and yearned for the other man to come back and keep trying. He cursed himself for it, hating that any part of him could WANT Bryce close by. It was just one more reason that his bladder seemed at times to be a completely separate entity from the rest of his body, one that wanted nothing more than to rebel against him in every way possible.
When Bryce came back a minute later, Kenneth was dismayed when he did not immediately begin rubbing his shoulders again. “Bryce, I can’t hold it!” he whined, beginning to stomp his feet. He felt ridiculous and hated himself for it. He was doing a pee holding dance even though his zip was down and his cock was aimed into a somewhat appropriate receptacle. He was doing a pee holding dance even though ‘holding it’ was the last thing on Earth he wanted to be doing! He tried to make himself stop squirming, knowing that fidgeting and jumping about as if he was still trying to keep his pee inside of himself would make it all the harder to get it to come out, but his body wouldn’t obey. There was just so much discomfort, so much pressure, and his body desperately wanted to get him into a position that would lessen the agony.
“I really, really can’t wait!” Kenneth continued babbling. He hated all the moaning pleas that wouldn’t stop falling from his lips even more than he hated the stupid dance he couldn’t stop performing. He felt utterly pathetic voicing these complaints to Bryce of all people, knowingly giving him something to make fun of him for later on.
Bryce wanted to snap at the irritating, grating whines. He wanted to shout “Then freaking PISS already! Jeez! You don’t HAVE to hold it!” But, he managed to stifle it. “Since the shoulder thing wasn’t really working just now, I wanted to try something else.” Before Kenneth could ask him what, Bryce opened his book, turned to the chapter about the water planet, and began to read it once more.
When Kenneth realized what Bryce was doing, he felt a bit of anger surge through him. Was Bryce seriously going to taunt him like this?! Was he making fun of him? As Bryce kept reading, the unwanted images that soared through his imagination made Kenneth’s bladder shriek, made it feel like the heavy weight of piss was about to rip and claw right through his flesh. “Br—Bryce!” Kenneth squeaked out. “That’s not funny!”
Bryce just continued to read though, forcibly inviting Kenneth back to the gushing, trickling waterfalls of the alien planet, forcing him to live through the main character’s pulsing desperation. When he got to a line in which the protagonist had begun to fantasize about how wonderfully good it was going to feel to relieve himself later on, Kenneth cringed and let out a loud, whimpering whine.
“Bryce, seriously!” Kenneth pleaded. “Stop! I can’t— I— I’m—“ Kenneth’s beg was interrupted by a humongous splatter, an ear shattering hiss of liquid, and an intense, euphoric sense of relief. “Ahhhhh….” he moaned, barely even realizing what was happening, just that suddenly all of the pain was fading and he felt so, so much better.
Bryce set the book back down, glad that his plan had worked and that Kenneth was now releasing enough ‘water’ to power the fictional planet’s society for the next fifty years at least… Except, Kenneth wasn’t aiming at all, just standing there on slumping knees in a daze as his pee gushed onto the floor.
Bryce wasn’t thinking at all when he made his next move. It only took him a second, and only then did it register what he’d done and when he did, he just wanted to crawl into a hole and die… He just… He knew a mess was being made. He knew that they’d be in trouble for soiling this room. He knew he’d be in the MOST trouble since he was the one in charge, and just… Totally on instinct he’d reached and… corrected Kenneth’s aim for him so that he was flooding the garbage bin instead of the ground. And then after that was done, he felt a horrible, sinking feeling that he’d just crossed a boundary that he absolutely should not have crossed.
He hadn’t actually touched Kenneth’s dick, thank goodness. Just the wrist connected to the hand holding it, but that was still pretty close. Bryce was worried that the contact would make Kenneth tighten up again before he managed to empty out, and was very relieved when the other continued to gush away uninterrupted. The only sounds in the room now were Kenneth’s heavy breaths and moans and the hissing spray of his massive stream pounding the Hell out of the trash bin.
Bryce knew from a few previous experiences that, for someone who was extremely shy about urinating, Kenneth tended to be awful loud whenever he finally actually went. He seemed to be completely oblivious to the level of noise he made, as Bryce was pretty sure that if Kenneth ever actually registered the perverse groans that came out of him, then he’d be so ashamed he’d never go outside again. Because he didn’t want Kenneth to become a hermit and become an even more useless subordinate than he already was, Bryce bit down hard on his tongue. Because, Bryce really just couldn’t help but think the intense way Kenneth vocalized his relief was funny, and it was so hard not to laugh. It was hard not to comment something like “Oh my God, Paulson! Are you peeing or jerking off?!”
It was also hard not to feel a little awed by how copiously Kenneth was urinating. He’d seen, or at least overheard, Kenneth relieving his bladder a few times now, but it never got any less shocking how much he could hold back. Kenneth was so, so small, a person wouldn’t expect him to have a bladder capacity that seemed to rival a camel’s. ‘Where the Hell does he even FIT all of that?’ Bryce wondered after a minute had passed and Kenneth was still gushing away with no signs of being finished any time soon. Bryce actually started to worry he’d manage to overflow the trash can.
For Kenneth, the rest of the world had completely fallen away. The only thing that existed anymore was this amazing sensation. He felt like he was pissing out bucket after bucket of liquid and he didn’t want it to ever stop. He wanted to feel this way forever. He forgot that Bryce was in the room with him. He forgot he was urinating into a trash bin and not a proper toilet. He forgot he wasn’t in his restroom at the barrack. He forgot absolutely everything except for the fact that he was peeing and that it felt amazing in every possible way. His toes started to curl inside his boots and a shiver of pleasure started in the soles of his feet, moved up the line of his legs, all the way up his spine and over his head. He shuddered and shook, his body going so loose and floaty.
His flow slowed down and trickled off a few seconds later, but he still felt a bit of pulsing inside his body.
Still shocked by the amount Kenneth had released, Bryce started to ask “Better now? All fini—“
His question was interrupted when a second stream erupted from Kenneth’s tip. This one lasted for almost an entire minute all on its own, but it did stop eventually. As much as Kenneth wished he could feel that good forever, his bladder was not bottomless and he had to empty out eventually. Once he’d gone several seconds without anymore fluid pouring out of him, he thought he was probably finished at last even though there was still a bit of soreness. He stumbled back on his wobbly legs, barely remembering to fumble his member back into his pants and zip them shut. He remained silent for a moment. He had no idea what to say to Bryce after all of that. It was awkward enough picking conversation back up with Dwight following these sorts of events. With Bryce it was just…
“Are you okay now?” Bryce asked, equally as uncertain of what he was supposed to say.
“Um… I… I’m feeling better, yes,” Kenneth said, looking off in the other direction. He twisted a finger in his hand. “Uh… I just… I… Thank you,” he said. “I… When you got the book and started reading me that part, I thought you were trying to tease me, but… It helped. A lot.”
Bryce nodded, “I wasn’t sure if it would at first,” he admitted. “But, every time I read that part it always makes me want to go so badly.” Blushing red at what he was about to say, but desperate to do anything to make this all a little less awkward, he added; “Um, the first time I read that book, I was so absorbed in the story and in wondering what happened next, I didn’t want to stop reading. But, that chapter had made me need to pee so much that I just HAD to go, and I ended up taking the book with me while I sat on the toilet to pee.”
Kenneth smiled slightly, remembering how defensive Bryce had gotten when Kenneth teased him about sitting to pee once before. “Heh, so you DO like to pee sitting down?”
“If I’m able to,” Bryce shrugged. “It gives me an excuse to get off my feet for a couple minutes. And I can’t read while I go if I have to worry about my aim.”
At the mention of ‘aim’, Kenneth remembered the most embarrassing part of his recent ordeal. “Um… When I started to go, and I was accidentally getting it on the floor… Er… Did you—“
“I don’t know what I was thinking!” Bryce interrupted hastily. “I mean, I WASN’T thinking, really! And I’m SO sorry, I should NOT have done that!”
Kenneth looked down, his entire face bright red. “J—Just don’t tell anyone,” he said.
“I’d never!” Bryce exclaimed, just as red. “I don’t want YOU to tell anyone!”
“I won’t…” Kenneth said. “I… At least it was just my HAND you touched, anyway.”
Once a little more time had passed and the awkwardness had faded, Bryce started to read the rest of the book to Kenneth in an attempt to pass the time. A few hours later, Elizabeth and Dwight discovered the stuck door and were able to force it open. When they saw Bryce and Kenneth resting together on the ground so calmly, neither one trying to rip the other’s throat out, they were both stunned.
“Aw,” Elizabeth said. “Look at you two, getting along like friends!”
“I wonder how long THAT will last,” Dwight said. |
Kenneth had the day off. He could go into town or into the woods and do anything he wanted. It should have been fantastic for him, but the one activity he REALLY wanted to do was not available to him; He could not spend time with Dwight. Dwight did not have today off. This was the first time their schedules hadn’t aligned and one of them would have to spend the day without the other. When Bryce had informed him of this, Kenneth had shrugged and said he was just going to stay at work with Dwight all day and help him with whatever he’d been assigned to do.
But, Bryce had given him a very firm ‘no’. Kenneth’s presence would NOT help Dwight complete any of his tasks. Kenneth’s presence would only serve to distract him. They’d just end up talking and talking and talking, and before long they’d both forget that Dwight had ANY actual work to do. Kenneth had tried to argue that he’d try really hard to avoid distracting his friend from what he had to do, but Bryce had been adamant about it, and after a bit more pleading from Kenneth, Bryce had gotten angry enough for Kenneth to stop trying.
Bryce quite honestly could not even BELIEVE how clingy those two were with one another. He was pretty sure that if someone handcuffed them together while they were sleeping, it would take them hours to even notice it. And once they did they probably wouldn’t even care very much. He’d never seen two people so utterly attached to each other. Bryce knew that on one level, that amount of complete and total dependency could not have been very healthy. He knew that Kenneth needed Dwight around to even be able to pee, and one night when they’d been sleeping in separate tents, Bryce learned that Dwight absolutely had trouble getting to sleep unless he could hear Kenneth snoring nearby. Neither one of them could manage to perform basic functions of life without each other, and they both seemed to think that this intense attachment was perfectly normal. When Dwight had explained he couldn’t sleep without the sound of Kenneth’s snoring— a noise which Bryce personally thought could wake the dead— he’d said it like it was something Bryce should have expected and understood.
Even though Bryce knew that Kenneth and Dwight were basically addicted to one another and that that was pretty unhealthy, he couldn’t help but feel a little envious of it. He wondered how it felt to have someone that attached to you, and for you to feel that hooked onto them. Bryce didn’t think he’d ever felt something that intense for anyone or anything. He had been spending more time with Elizabeth these days, and being around her did make him feel really good, but he didn’t think he’d fall completely to pieces if they didn’t speak too much for just one day.
When the next day came and Kenneth was supposed to head out and relax for a bit, Bryce watched with some fascination as he said goodbye to Dwight. From the way they were acting, it was like Kenneth was going away to a different country for the next ten years, not that he was just going to be a few miles away for one, single day. Bryce eventually had to step in and break them apart, reminding Dwight that he had work to complete today.
Kenneth had reluctantly left then. He headed into town and tried to think of something to do. He was supposed to rest and let off some steam, after all. But, all the fun things he thought of doing were things he knew WOULDN’T be very fun without Dwight. He also felt weirdly exposed and extremely uncomfortable without Dwight right there beside him where he belonged. He almost felt like he was naked without his friend, something extremely vital was missing.
‘It’s just one day,’ Kenneth reminded himself. He remembered overhearing Elizabeth speaking with some of the other medics while he’d recovered from his bladder infection. He remembered her using the phrase ‘codependent’ a lot of times. He wasn’t totally sure what that word meant, but he could tell from her tone alone that it probably wasn’t a very good thing.
Kenneth continued wandering. When he saw someone wearing a very poorly matched and unflattering outfit, he actually turned to his side to make a snide remark, before remembering that Dwight wasn’t there to fight down laughter and scold him about being nice like always. Eventually, Kenneth stopped at a cafe, realizing that he was thirsty. It was strange sitting at a table by himself as he had a drink. It was strange not having anyone to talk to.
After satiating his thirst, he decided to just go to the library. Reading was one of the only things he ever did without Dwight, so he figured it was the best way to fill time today. And, for a long time, it was pleasant. He could get lost in a story and not think too hard about how he missed his friend, and the library was nice and quiet and peaceful, so he did start to feel the tranquility that the day was supposed to be about.
But, after a few hours of silently resting in an arm chair and turning pages in a book, Kenneth began to feel a lot less calm. His body was no longer slack and relaxed. Instead, his knees were bouncing up and down, and his legs were occasionally crossing together as he started to feel a very insistent reminder of all of the drinks he’d had at the cafe.
He wasn’t having an emergency yet by any means, but it was very, very uncomfortable and he knew it was sure to get a lot worse soon. Without looking up from his book, he softly spoke; “Dwight, I need to—“
His words died on his lips.
He’d actually managed to get so absorbed in his book that he’d totally forgotten Dwight wasn’t with him right now. Only now, when he really NEEDED Dwight to be here, had he remembered. He tensed his thighs as his urge for the toilet amplified. As pressure built at the base of his cock, panic built in his mind; He was in public, and he had to urinate, and the one man that was capable of GETTING him to urinate in public was not around.
‘Just don’t think about it,’ Kenneth advised himself. ‘Keep reading, maybe it will go away.” He knew this was a futile hope, reading would not make all of the urine that was still accumulating in his bladder magically evaporate. He would get to the end of a page, and realize he hadn’t actually paid attention to any of the words that had been on it. His mind had been focused purely on his bladder and on the alarming rate at which it was filling up. He’d had way, WAY too much to drink. His nervous apprehension and the intense vulnerability that his predicament was cramming his brain with had made him hyper-aware of the way his bladder was starting to stretch, beginning to expand to accommodate all of the liquid he’d foolishly dumped into his body without a moment’s consideration for where it would go.
Maybe he should walk all the way back to his barrack? He could pee in the restroom there with no problem at all most of the time. It had taken him half an hour to get into town, and he knew it would take him even longer to go back when his bladder was making it difficult to walk properly, so that meant he’d better leave right now if he wanted to make it there before his urge transformed itself into a blistering need.
Then he’d probably just… Stay there for the rest of the day and just listen to the radio, so that he’d remain close to his nice, quiet, safe restroom where he could pee when he had to go. That’s what he should have done to begin with. It was stupid to go into town without Dwight, and it was even stupider to drink something while he was out. Yes, he should have either stayed in his barrack all day, or if he just HAD to go out, then he should have resigned himself to being thirsty the whole time. Those were the only options his bladder would ever allow him to choose from; ‘Never go anywhere without Dwight, and if you do, you need to make damned sure you’re dehydrated. If you try anything else, I’ll torture you.’
As Kenneth tried to come to a decision on whether or not he should begin the long walk back to where he’d come from, a librarian passed by his chair to organize a few of the shelves. She stopped and glanced back at him. He felt warm, hot shame flare through him as he knew for certain that she was staring because of his crossed legs and the way he kept bouncing in his seat. He was sure he must have looked ridiculous, squirming about like a school child that desperately needed his teacher to grant him permission for a toilet break. If Dwight was here, he would have tried to hide himself behind him, sticking close to his friend to try and shield his vulnerability from the rest of the world.
“Um… Sir,” the librarian said quietly. “There are restrooms in the back.”
Kenneth was sure he was blushing. He knew she was only trying to help, but wished she would have just minded her own business. The state of his bladder should have been of no concern to her. And, of course she thought he just didn’t know where the toilets were. What other reasonable explanation was there for a grown man to be doing a blatant pee dance? Simply not knowing where an available urinal was was the only reason a NORMAL guy would be sitting there, shifting around uncomfortably like that. Peeing was so simple for NORMAL guys, so long as they found a spot to go, that was all that was ever needed. But, oh no, Kenneth couldn’t be normal! No, first he needed a spot to go, but then he needed for that spot to feel the perfect amount of safe and secure, and most of the time he needed his best friend to hold him and whisper gentle encouragements into his ear.
Still, now that she’d said something, Kenneth felt way too embarrassed to just continue on sitting there and squirming. So, he pretended that not knowing the location of the restrooms really WAS his only problem. “O—Oh,” he said. “Thank you.” It killed him to have to express politeness to someone who had annoyed him— Even someone who’d done so completely unwittingly and without malice— but he knew that if Dwight WAS here, then he would have wanted Kenneth to be nice and cordial. “I was… Uh, I was looking for them earlier, you’re a big help.”
He knew now that it would look weird if he didn’t head that way now, so he forced himself up, cringing and pinching his knees inwards as his bladder sloshed at the sudden shift in gravity. Standing up made him realize that he needed the toilet a lot worse than he’d originally thought. Even if he did leave right now, he knew that by the time he completed the long journey back to his barrack— to the quiet, nice, safe toilet— he would be doubled over and taking tiny steps that were filled with pain.
‘Maybe I actually CAN go here,’ he thought, not believing it for a second. His bladder was one thing Kenneth could never feel confident about. His bladder was something he couldn’t even PRETEND to feel confident about.
He shuffled towards the back of the building, trying hard not to separate his legs too much as he walked. His bladder was bounced with each step and it made him wish and hope more and more that a miracle would happen and he’d somehow manage to empty himself here. When he saw the sign labeling the men’s room, his bladder actually pulsed more spasmodically than ever, the way it did whenever he saw the door to his own restroom. He knew that it was pretty normal for someone’s need to go to suddenly intensify as they neared the correct room, but since he already knew how completely unlikely it was that he’d find any relief past that door, all that it did was make him feel a whole lot worse.
He nervously pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was vacant, thank goodness. If anyone else was in here, he knew he’d just end up going to the sink and pretending he’d just come in here to wash his hands. He’d had to do that a bunch of times, and the feeling of water splashing against his hands, the sound of it gushing out of the faucet, always made him cringe and shimmy with heightened urgency. And the shimmying always made him feel more ashamed and humiliated, he’d grow certain that the other person in the room was watching him do his dance, wondering why he was at the sink instead of the urinal he so clearly needed.
There was a row of three urinals, which he quickly skipped by as he went straight to the one stall. The lid and seat on the toilet were already lifted, making it look so inviting. Oh, it would feel so good to be able to let a stream go into it… Kenneth pulled the door closed and reached for the—
There was no lock.
It was clear from a few marks on the door that there HAD been one at some point, but it had broken off. He couldn’t lock himself away as he tried to take care of his need. And when he let go of the door, it quickly swung back open again.
Annoyed, and his bladder thrashing a lot more angrily now that a toilet was visible, Kenneth tried to calm himself down. He fumbled with his belt, buttons and zip and got himself out, then used his other hand to hold the door shut. Sure, it wasn’t locked, but he was holding it very, very tight. He tried to relax and let out his pee. A very, very long time passed with nothing. Then, to his great shock, he started to feel something shift inside his body, that warm, pulsing pinch at his tip that he always felt just before he started to urinate. ‘Oh, yes… Please, please, please…’ he mentally begged, trying to coax his stream out just that tiny little bit further…
As Kenneth felt right on the very verge of letting it all go, he heard the door of the restroom open, followed by loud teenaged voices, and just like that, it all stopped. Kenneth was even tenser than he’d been at the start. He no longer felt close to releasing a little drop, let alone the enormous stream still trapped inside him.
“I can’t believe they’re making us write a report on that book, it’s so boring.” one of them said, followed by the noise of a zipper being yanked down. “Oh, I’ve been dying for this…” The sound of trickling liquid could be heard. “Ahhhh…”
Kenneth stomped his feet against the floor as he endured the sound of the boy’s stream splashing into a urinal. It was a horrid tease on his own bladder. It was also painfully unfair! No way that kid had to go as bad as Kenneth did! He should have held it! He should have waited outside the room until Kenneth was finished!
“I know,” the second kid said. “There’s nothing to even say about it, aside from that it’s a chore to read.”
‘Come on, Paulson…’ Kenneth thought to himself. ‘Forget they’re here. They’re KIDS. You don’t have to feel intimidated by a couple of school boys. You’re a grown man— You’re a soldier, for God’s sake!’ His bladder was furious that it had come so close to relief only to have it snatched away at the last second. It sent several particularly sharp, painful throbs through his body as he kept trying to persuade it to empty. Self loathing and rage pulsed through his chest, and he could feel the familiar sensation of a shout building at the back of his throat. He was ready to burst in two distinctly different, yet equally as painful ways. ‘Keep it together, Paulson. Keep. It. Togeth—‘
The second kid knocked roughly on the door Kenneth was still forcing shut with his hand. “Can’t you hurry up?”
Oh… Oh, jeez. He realized the kid was WAITING on him. He could NEVER pee if someone was waiting on him to go. Because, he knew that they’d inevitably start to wonder about why in the world it was taking him so long to void his bladder, they’d start to think that something was seriously wrong with him! He tried to shout something back at the kid, tried to unleash all his building anger at him so that he could call him a rude little pissant that needed to wait his turn like a civilized person… But the kid spoke before he could. And what he said made Kenneth feel so ashamed that he quite honestly forgot how talking even worked.
“How long does it take you to piss? Do you not know HOW, or something?”
That was it.
That. Was. It.
Kenneth couldn’t do this. He couldn’t stay here a second longer. He couldn’t… He just… He couldn’t. He fumbled himself back into his pants with one hand and struggled with his buttons before letting go of the door and stomping out.
The kid must not have been too desperate to use the toilet after all, because as Kenneth angrily went to the sink, he snorted when he saw Kenneth’s uniform. “Holy shit, you’re a soldier? And you can’t even take a fucking leak?”
His friend, zipping up at the urinals, laughed as well. “How’d he even get in? Look at him, he’s shorter than us and we’re only fifteen.”
They both laughed.
Kenneth wanted to throttle them. He wanted to punch them so hard that their grandchildren had bruises. He wanted to scream at them until his voice was hoarse and his lungs ran out of air. He wanted… He just wanted to PEE worse than anything, and—
And he couldn’t do any of it. He’d never felt this ashamed of himself in his life. He’d never felt so pathetic. Here he was, an adult, a solider… And he felt near tears after being picked on by a pair of fifteen year olds.
He splashed some water on his hands and quickly left the restroom, his abdomen aching so much. There was pain everywhere, outside and in. His bladder hurt, his mind hurt, his emotions were in a tizzy and he just wanted Dwight so bad. He wanted Dwight even more than he wanted an empty bladder.
He hurried through the building and out the door, moving so quickly that every step seemed to jam a knife deeper and deeper into his throbbing urethra, but he needed to get away from here as fast as he possibly could. Once he was outside and had gone down the street a bit, he stopped and urgently bounced in place. He didn’t know what he could do anymore. The walk to his barrack was longer than he could handle, he needed to get this piss out of his body NOW, whatever it took.
It was a small town, but there had to be SOMEWHERE here that he could make himself pee. He was seriously considering buying a room at the inn JUST so that he could use the toilet that would be in it. He couldn’t believe he was so desperate to go that he was willing to spend THAT much money just to have a chance of attaining relief.
He hurried down the street as fast as his bladder would allow. He felt like everyone he passed was staring, all of them instantly able to tell that he was carting around a gallon of pee, all of them instantly able to tell that he couldn’t release any of it even when a toilet was right in front of him. He knew that that was silly; While it was likely a lot of the people he passed could tell he needed a restroom from the way he was moving, there was no way they were able to work out that his bladder was shy just by looking at him. But, even though logic told him no one knew what the true extent of his problem, he couldn’t stop telling himself that they were all thinking ‘Does he not know how to pee? What’s wrong with him? He must be broken!’
Kenneth FELT like he was broken. He liked to feel in control, it was why he liked his uniform so much that he wore it even when he wasn’t required to; It made him feel powerful. Not being able to control his own body made him feel the exact opposite of powerful. It made him feel weaker than a dandelion in harsh wind.
When he came to the door of a shop, he pushed it open. The shop was small, and so he hoped that meant the restroom would be a single stall; One where he could lock himself in all safe and secure and pee and pee and pee until he felt so weightless he’d think he could fly.
The only other person in the building was the shopkeeper, which Kenneth thought was a good sign. Maybe he could even work up the nerve to ask the guy to stand far away from the restroom door “I just really prefer to have extra privacy,” he would say, he didn’t have to tell him how his bladder only WORKED if he had extra privacy.
The shopkeeper started to speak, “How may I help y—“ He paused, looking Kenneth over. “I apologize sir, there’s no restroom here.”
Kenneth wanted the ground to swallow him up. He hated how obvious he was being about his need. When he looked down and realized how many knots he’d contorted himself into, he could hardly believe it. His knees were bowed inwards, he was hunched over, his hands were gripping the bottom of his shirt, dangerously close to pressing themselves into his crotch. He ordered himself to straighten up and pretend that he wasn’t holding back an entire lake, but he knew that the damage was already done, he wouldn’t manage to fool the guy. “Th—That’s okay.”
“Across the road,” the shopkeeper continued. “There’s a bathhouse there. They’ve got a restroom that’s free to use.”
Kenneth nodded, “…Thank you…” he managed to choke out around the heavy boulders of embarrassment and desperation that were caught in his throat.
It was such a short walk to the other side of the road, but by the time it was over Kenneth was sweating like he’d just run ten thousand miles. His body felt raw and overheated, every nerve-ending within him was firing off in response to the inhuman pressure contained inside his bladder. He felt swollen, he felt like a hard poke would make him burst apart, he felt like his entire body was turning into liquid. Above all though, he felt intensely panicked. He knew there was no way he could walk all they way back now, it just wasn’t physically possible; Walking even very short distances was so painful. But, if he didn’t find somewhere to go here, what would he do?!
He didn’t think he could have an accident here. Truthfully, there had been a few occasions where he’d been super, super desperate in public and had felt like something was sort of… tearing inside his body. The pain would be horrific, and he’d think for sure that it meant he was beginning to wet his pants, but nothing but a few errant dribbles would ever come out. And, honestly, these events always scared him. He knew that people only wet themselves because their bodies were attempting to protect them, because their bladders had gotten so full it was dangerous to continue holding it all back… And Kenneth was certain that on these days, he’d been full enough that he SHOULD have been peeing his pants, but the psychological block he had when other people were present was just SO strong that it still wouldn’t happen.
One part of him, a part that he hated and couldn’t believe was even there, would wish that he COULD just go in his pants so that the hurting would stop.
Kenneth tried to fight down the panic inside, tried to tell himself that there just HAD to be some place he could get relief nearby, some way he could force his bladder into compliance.
Kenneth had never gone inside a bathhouse before; The idea of getting naked and washing himself in front of other people… He had no clue why some apparently found such places relaxing. While he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect inside that building, he doubted very much that he’d find any privacy within it. Still, he’d been promised there would be a toilet, and he was so desperate for one that he at least wanted to try.
He went inside. He’d… Honestly expected it to just be a big room with naked people everywhere, but it wasn’t. He was in what looked to be a reception area. A woman greeted him, “Hello, how may I help you?”
Kenneth, whom only just then realized that he was full-on clutching his dick by that point, felt immensely grateful that she hadn’t immediately pointed out his need to empty his bladder. But… Then he was a little dismayed that this meant HE’D have to be the one to do it… “Uh—Um… The man in the shop across the road says you have a restroom I could use?”
“We do,” she said. “This way…” She began leading him down a hall. She did not add any comments about the obvious severity of his need, even though he was sure she’d picked up on it. He felt a little better. The hallway was long and they passed a few doors. He picked up on the sound of water— no doubt from the actual bathing rooms— and had to tense his thighs up more and more as he walked. Even so, he felt himself beginning to dribble into his boxers as his bladder began to break apart. It was so hard not to whine to the woman, not to ask “It’s not that much further, is it?”
“Sir…” she said, and Kenneth feared she was about to say something embarrassing about his clear desperation. “You seem… Very, VERY tense. And I don’t think it’s just from your need to…” when she trailed off instead of finishing the thought, Kenneth was relieved. It wasn’t the kind of relieved he NEEDED to be feeling right now, but it was still nice. “Well,” she said. “We do offer massages here, if you are ever feeling too stressed.”
He thought about it and realized that the way Dwight always kneaded on his shoulders and back when he tried to pee was sort of like a massage. And it did feel good to have that tension worked away, a few times Kenneth had wished for Dwight to do that to him when he DIDN’T have to pee, but he’d never actually asked him for it. He was worried Dwight would think it was weird that he wanted those touches when he didn’t NEED them. “Th—That would be nice…” he admitted.
“Alright,” the woman said. “If you are ever interested, we will want you to shower here first, but that’s all.”
Kenneth promptly gave up on the idea. If he was going to be required to bathe with other people around him, then the whole ordeal would just end with him being tenser than ever. A few times, he’d had to shower alongside other guards with very little privacy, and he was always so busy trying to cover himself up with one hand that attempting to wash himself with the other became a major challenge.
They arrived at the door to the restroom, and Kenneth stepped in. He hoped she didn’t wait on the other side of the door for him and tried to put that idea out of his mind. ‘Why WOULD she?’ he asked himself. In the restroom, there was a row of urinals a row of stalls, and a row of showers with curtains. The last thing perplexed him until he saw the sign beside them requesting that people shower before using the bathing rooms. This was also confusing; They… Wanted people to bathe before they bathed? He didn’t understand it…
Nevertheless, the restroom was at least empty which he took as a good sign. When he got into a stall, the door locked, which was also a good sign. But, as ever, when he unzipped and readied himself at the toilet, everything just stopped. For the millionth time in his life, he wondered how the Hell he could spend so much time struggling not to pee in his pants and then have to fight so hard to pee into a toilet once he’d found one. Tears once more sprang to the corners of his eyes. He was totally alone in this room, there was no reason he shouldn’t have been peeing. He should have been peeing hard enough to peel paint off of a wall. He should have been pressure-washing the Hell out of the porcelain bowl in front of him. He should have been experiencing mind-breaking levels of relief that left him a weak, shuddering mess of ecstasy.
But instead, he was just a weak, shuddering mess of desperation that didn’t even know how to pee. ‘Oh my God,’ he scolded himself. ‘Forget what those stupid children said. They’re little pricks and they don’t matter. You can do this.’
But, he couldn’t.
He just couldn’t.
He kept replaying the words of the teenagers from before. He kept worrying that any second now, someone else would come in here, realize he wasn’t peeing and say something equally as rude. He kept wishing and wishing and wishing that Dwight were with him to make it all stop, to make it all better.
‘Okay, okay, okay,’ Kenneth tried to cut through the panicked mush in his brain. ‘What would Dwight do if he WAS here. What would he say?’
Probably something like ‘Kenneth, you can do this. It’s just us. You’re safe. You’re safe. You’re perfectly safe, darling…’
Wait… Darling? Did Kenneth want Dwight to call him ‘darling’? His heart pounded at the thought. The image of Dwight holding him, rubbing him and calling him darling… It made him feel all soft inside.
But, it hadn’t made him pee.
‘Dwight would also turn a faucet on if there was one…’ Kenneth thought.
And then he got an idea.
He tucked his member back into his pants, ignoring the confused wail from his bladder. He didn’t bother zipping back up as he left the stall. He went instead to one of the showers. He shifted back and forth inside it, feeling hesitant. But, when a shuddering leak wet the inside of his boxers, he gave in.
It felt strange to him to be taking off his clothes here, and when doing so necessitated him bending over a few times, he lost quite a few more spurts of liquid from his bladder. He thought maybe that was actually a good thing. Pee was coming out, like he’d been begging for for hours. After he was completely nude, he noted with some alarm the presence of a swollen lump of tension resting between his hip-bones. With as small and slim as he was, it wasn’t uncommon for his bladder to… kind of bulge like that when he got full enough. But, it still alarmed him every time he saw it, the mere idea he could have so much urine inside his body that it was VISIBLE was a little frightening to him.
Once he’d put his clothes on the hook, he turned on the shower, hoping that the water here would be nice and warm— Though he was pretty sure a place like this would have plenty of hot water.
The water was pleasantly heated. Kenneth stood underneath it, the liquid rolling pleasantly down his back. It had been so long since he’d had a nice, warm shower. Hot water was so hard to come by… It felt good. It was loud, too. Hissing, spraying, trickling.
‘Kenneth, darling,’ he imagined Dwight saying to him. ‘Listen to the water now, let it out. You’ll feel so much better. Just calm down. I’m right here. You’re always safe when I’m here. Everything’s okay, darling. Just let go.’
Hsss…
Suddenly, a stream of liquid began to come out of another nozzle, and Kenneth started to feel VERY good. It took a second to figure out what it was, what had changed, but he looked down and saw he was peeing. Quite a bit, too. “Ohhhhh….” he moaned, his body trembling and shivering in spite of the hot water landing on him. He dropped to his knees on the floor of the shower, urine continuing to spray forcefully from his tip. It was getting on his legs, but he didn’t care, it would wash right off anyway. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He was peeing and it felt like Heaven.
It actually felt really, really good to be doing this while resting on his knees. He didn’t even need to put any effort in to stay standing up. And since the water was washing it all away, he didn’t need to worry about aiming, either. He didn’t even need to keep his eyes open, which was good because he felt so exhausted after everything that his eyelids had become heavy. He allowed them to draw closed and leaned his head against the wall for support, his mouth hanging open in slack-jawed bliss.
He felt pressure fading away bit by bit by bit, his bladder shrinking and compressing back to its proper size, no longer round, firm and swollen with tender need. He couldn’t actually tell which stream of warm water going down his legs was the one gushing from his cock, and he knew he probably ought to have felt disgusted by the knowledge that he was urinating on himself, but he didn’t. The release was too good for him to feel even the slightest hint of revulsion.
Then, it dawned on him; He was relieving himself in public! And he was doing it without Dwight holding him! He was doing this all on his own! And, sure he hadn’t managed to get the job done in an actual toilet, sure he’d needed to PRETEND Dwight actually WAS with him, sure he’d needed the sound of rushing water and the sensation of it pouring down his body… Sure, he had needed all those things; But still, he’d done this HIMSELF. He felt amazingly proud. It was silly to feel such a huge sense of accomplishment from urinating after the age of three, but for him this really was a major, MAJOR thing to be proud of.
Then, the door opened and he heard a couple men walk in. He heard them unzipping at the urinals and beginning to pee, and, and—
And Kenneth was still peeing.
He hadn’t clamped back up.
He was… Actually going to get to finish.
He only worried about it for a second or two. But, then he remembered the shower curtain went down super low, there was only a tiny crack at the bottom. And his pee was mixing with the water from the shower head, which was so loud it covered up any noise Kenneth was making. Even if their attention WAS drawn in this direction, it would be impossible for them to notice that Kenneth was peeing. ‘Oh my God…’ he thought blearily, still nearly catatonic from relief as he lay slumped against the wall. ‘I’m… I’m going with two strangers in the room with me!’
He had NEVER managed to do THAT in his life. He had NEVER been able to void himself if someone else was in the room. Not unless that person was someone he really, really trusted, like Dwight. He’d never imagined he’d be capable of doing this.
Too bad he couldn’t somehow bring this shower with him everywhere, since it apparently had the magic power to make him pee.
His stream lasted for well over two minutes, long enough for the two men at the urinals to both finish up and leave even though they’d started peeing AFTER Kenneth had. Once he was emptied, Kenneth made no move to get up. He felt so loose and relaxed, and the warm water was so pleasant and soothing that he wanted to stay.
He just lay there for a few more minutes, catching his breath and giving his body a little time to recover from its ordeal. He always felt amazing after finishing up a badly needed piss, but he didn’t think he’d ever felt quite THIS good after one. Kenneth Paulson took a leak in public all on his own while two strangers were in the room; He could conquer the galaxy now. He could do anything. He was the greatest.
He shut off the water and put his clothes back on. When he clasped his belt, it was with great satisfaction that he realized it no longer was causing him any pain. He left the restroom, his hair still dripping a little. He wondered what time it was, he couldn’t wait to tell Dwight what he’d managed to do!
As he headed to exit the building, the woman from earlier stopped him. “Did you want to try a massage today?” she asked. “You are looking… A lot more relaxed now, and I see you did shower.”
He asked her for the time and when she told him, he realized he had an hour left to kill, so he accepted the offer. The massage was very nice. He’d had no idea that his body could feel so light. He’d had tension rubbed away that had been rooted in him for so long he hadn’t even been able to tell it was there. Once it was over, he sort of had to go pee again, but not very badly. He knew he could wait until he got back, and he was so excited to tell Dwight how his day had gone that he didn’t want to waste a minute.
By the time he got to the barrack, Kenneth’s bladder felt significantly fuller. He opened the door to his and Dwight’s room to find his friend already inside. Dwight hurried over to him, “Oh, Kenneth, are you okay?” he asked frantically. He opened the door to their restroom, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think about it until after you had already left, I wasn’t going to be there for you when you had to—“
Even though Kenneth DID need to go kind of badly by that point, he didn’t immediately rush in to relieve himself. It could wait a few more minutes, at least. “Dwight, I—“
“Hurry,” Dwight said. “You must be about to—“
“Dwight, I… Um… I…” Kenneth felt a little more bashful now that it was time to say the words aloud. It was such an unusual thing to feel so proud of. “I… I managed it myself today.”
Dwight stopped, noticing how Kenneth was NOT squirming in the way he’d expect him to be if he hadn’t used a toilet all day. “You… What?”
“I drank too much at the cafe,” Kenneth said. “And I needed to… To relieve myself pretty badly after a few hours. I tried to go at the library, but these stupid jerk-ass kids started talking and I couldn’t— I should have broken their noses—“
“Kenneth!” Dwight scolded.
“They were assholes! They would have deserved it!” Kenneth defended himself. “Anyway, I couldn’t go there, but then I went to the bathhouse—“
“YOU went to a public bathhouse?”
“Yes,” Kenneth said. “And, I tried to use the toilet there, but that didn’t work. So, I tried to go in the shower, and the water was so loud and warm and I just… I just went. And when two people came in before I’d finished, I didn’t even stop! I kept going!”
Dwight stared at his friend. That had been a really roundabout way of doing things, but it was lightyears better than how these things usually went for Kenneth. Dwight was shocked, and a second later he was hugging Kenneth as tight as he could. “That’s… That’s just… That’s absolutely amazing, Kenneth.”
Kenneth melted into Dwight’s touch… Although, the tight squeezing was making him want to head for the restroom a little bit more.
“I’m… I’m sorry if this is weird, but I’m…I’m honestly SO proud of you right now,” Dwight said. “And you should feel proud, too.”
Kenneth did feel proud, and he felt so warm and cozy in his friend’s arms, but he was also feeling a little more desperate for a pee… Not so desperate that he wanted the hug to stop, though. “Th—Thank you,” he said, squeezing back.
Dwight continued holding his friend. They hugged a lot, but it usually didn’t last so long. Dwight was having an incredibly difficult time letting go this time… He did release Kenneth from his grip eventually though, and he noticed a flash of disappointment cross his face. It was very brief, only there for half a second, but there was no way Dwight could have missed it.
Kenneth then went into the restroom. He was just about to pull the door shut and engage the lock, but he made himself stop. The door to their room was already locked. Dwight was the only person that would be able to look inside, and Kenneth relieved his bladder in front of him all the time. He just left the door as it was and unzipped. He did feel a hint of uneasiness knowing that the usual barrier of the door wasn’t there this time, but it only took a little under a minute for his stream to begin pouring. It was only Dwight, after all.
Dwight was pretty stunned when he saw Kenneth neglect to shut the door behind himself, and even more shocked when he could hear him urinating so quickly afterwards. Kenneth always, ALWAYS shut the door and locked it tight. Today must have been such a major boost to his confidence, and Dwight’s heart soared. Kenneth often tried to ACT as though he was filled with confidence and bravado, but anyone who spent any real time with him would know it was all fake and forced; The real Kenneth was insecure, shy and honestly pretty fragile. But this, peeing with the door to the restroom left open, this was real, actual confidence.
When Kenneth finished up and came back out, Dwight didn’t comment on it, he just pulled Kenneth in for another hug, hoping that would be enough to show just how proud he felt. |
Just as a warning, this one is quite a bit kinkier than previous chapters have been.
***
Dwight knew that Kenneth was correct in saying that it would be dangerous for the two of them to pursue the kind of relationship it was now clear they both wanted. Homosexuality was utterly frowned upon, both of them would be in an unimaginable world of trouble if they were ever caught.
But, Dwight honestly didn’t even think of it as ‘homosexuality’. He viewed it as just having fallen in love with his best friend. His best friend just also happened to be another man. He’d found other people good looking before, and when he thought back he realized that among the people he’d seen and found himself momentarily attracted to, there was an equal mix of women and other men. He thought that was strange. He’d been taught his whole life that there were men who liked women— which was the correct way to be— and men who liked men— which was abhorrent and shameful. But, Dwight seemed to like both, which he assumed must have meant he was some sort of anomaly, stuck in a space between ‘normal and good’ and ‘disgusting and bad’.
He didn’t think he’d feel any differently for Kenneth if Kenneth had been born a woman instead and everything else was exactly the same. The only difference would be the lack of any issue in telling everyone he knew that this was the person he loved and wanted to spend his life with. There wouldn’t be a need to feel frightened by his feelings, or to try and keep them hidden from the world as they had been to himself for so long.
And that was the part that was confusing.
Why would it be perfectly okay for him to love Kenneth if Kenneth were a woman, but it was so wrong to love him as a man? Why did it matter so much what Kenneth’s body was shaped like? And, yes, Dwight couldn’t help but feel attracted to Kenneth’s angular male body, but he didn’t understand why that was something he should be so ashamed of.
Dwight spoke of his thoughts to Kenneth in soft whispers that night, thinking that the confidence he’d gained during the day’s events would make him more open to discussion.
Kenneth was similarly confused. He didn’t think he’d like Dwight any less if he was a woman, either. Unlike Dwight, whom had just confessed that he seemed to like everybody regardless of the parts they had, Kenneth had never liked anyone at all except for Dwight. And, yes, he’d begun to realize that the heart-thumping, racing pulse he always got when he saw Dwight without his shirt on was arousal, he didn’t think that seeing abs like Dwight’s on another man would do that to him. In fact, he knew it wouldn’t, because Bryce had a pretty muscular chest as well and Kenneth had never given it a second glance. It was the fact that the abs belonged to Dwight that turned Kenneth on so much, and he thought that if Dwight was instead out of shape and had a big gut, Kenneth would find THAT just as hot because it was Dwight’s big gut.
And if Dwight had been born a woman and had breasts and curvy hips, then that would be what Kenneth found sexy. Because those things would be a part of Dwight.
“I don’t normally feel this way,” Kenneth said. “I mean— I NEVER have. Do other people really just… see somebody they don’t know and think about that kind of stuff with them?”
“Yes,” Dwight said. “Didn’t you see how Bryce looked at Elizabeth the first day we met her? He was practically drooling!”
“Is there something missing in me?” Kenneth asked. “I… Um… When I was a teenager, I found out about, um… Pleasuring oneself. And, I— I never— Nothing ever… DID anything for me, until I tried… thinking about you…” he rushed out the last three words all in one breath.
Dwight blushed, amazed that Kenneth had been harboring those feelings for him for that long. He remembered when he first discovered masturbation, he’d begin touching himself and just letting his mind wander. He’d have all sorts of fantasies with all sorts of people, but somehow no matter where his imagined scenario began, it always came back to the simple image of Kenneth caressing his shaft, often saying the most filthy things that he knew Kenneth would probably never be able to bring himself to say in reality. The best fantasies were always the ones where Kenneth was on top of him, digging his nails into his shoulders and whispering breathy commands into his ears. Dominating him and making sure Dwight knew that he was HIS, as if Dwight would ever want to be anyone else’s.
“Maybe…” Dwight said, a little squeaky as he was now unable to erase the image of Kenneth pleasuring himself as he moaned Dwight’s name from his mind. “Maybe some people… They need the emotional stuff more than the other stuff? Like, perhaps they don’t feel the sexual part unless the other feelings are already there?”
“I… I guess,” Kenneth said. That did describe how he felt pretty well.
“And, I don’t think it means something’s ‘missing’ in you,” Dwight said. He smiled, “It just means I must be the sexiest person alive.”
Kenneth blushed and looked away. He knew Dwight was kidding around, but as far as Kenneth was concerned that statement was completely true.
Dwight turned red too. He couldn’t believe he’d just said that. He’d never been so bold before, but just… Hearing Kenneth say again and again that he was the ONLY person that could turn him on had put him in a kind of funny mood.
“And, maybe there are lots of people who like men and women,” Kenneth said. “But, nobody talks about it since men aren’t supposed to like other men at all.”
They both went quiet as the crux of the issue returned to their minds.
“Kenneth, I wish we could—“
“I know,” Kenneth nodded. “Believe me.”
Dwight sighed. “Why does it even matter?” he asked. “The nuns at the orphanage tried to explain it to me once, but I didn’t understand it. They basically just told me ‘it’s wrong because it’s wrong’, and that doesn’t explain anything at all.”
Kenneth agreed. It didn’t make much sense. He understood why other things were wrong. He knew it was wrong to steal money from a store because then the owner might not be able to afford food. But, it was wrong to love Dwight because… It was wrong to love Dwight, apparently. Completely illogical.
“How about this,” Kenneth said. “Inside this room, when the door is locked, and we stay as quiet as we can… We’re together. But, any other time, we’re just friends.”
That was better than nothing, Dwight decided. “Okay,” he said. “Yes. That would be nice.”
Kenneth looked relaxed in a way Dwight hadn’t seen in a long time— If ever. He hurried over to Dwight’s bed and climbed in beside him, cuddling up as close as he could get. It was like when they were really little and Kenneth had slept over, the two of them snuggling together in Dwight’s bed.
Dwight put his arm around Kenneth and pulled him in even further. “Goodnight…” he said softly, wanting to say more, but unsure of if he should. ‘Inside this room, when the door is locked, and we stay as quiet as we can… We’re together.’ Kenneth had said. “Um… Goodnight, darling.”
From the way Kenneth nuzzled against him, Dwight could tell Kenneth hadn’t minded the word at all.
Dwight would just have to be careful never to call him that outside of this room.
The next morning, Kenneth awoke, feeling more well rested than he had in ages. He and Dwight got ready for the day and stopped at the door just before leaving. “Ready?” Dwight asked. He did this each day. Ever since the day when Kenneth forgot to take him morning pee before leaving and he and Dwight had gotten locked into a holding cell by Bryce. Dwight now made it a point to remind Kenneth as subtly as possible to relieve himself before they walked out that door.
“Almost ready,” Kenneth said.
Thinking Kenneth had managed to neglect his bladder, Dwight was very surprised when Kenneth turned to give him a brief kiss before pulling back. “Okay,” he said. “Now I’m ready.”
Except, now Dwight wasn’t… ‘Holy shit, all he did was KISS you for half a second!’ he thought, cupping his hands in front of his crotch in an attempt to shield the effect the sudden contact had had on him.
Kenneth turned red and laughed.
As the day progressed, Kenneth felt on top of the world. Yesterday had been amazing. He’d made great progress against his shy bladder all on his own, and he’d gotten to sleep with Dwight holding him all night long. Everything was great!
And then, Kenneth broke his foot.
Today, it was Kenneth’s turn to take a monthly fitness examination. And, one of the things he had to do was climb up a tree as fast as he could. When he was nearly to the top and reached for one branch though, it broke off in his hand and he fell backwards. Before he could really process anything he was on the ground and his foot felt like it had been run through a meat grinder.
He hadn’t failed the fitness exam, thankfully. Nothing he’d done had CAUSED the branch to break, it had been completely out of his control. He would just have to retake the exam once he’d healed up. Elizabeth set his foot in a cast, given him a bottle of pain killers, and then he was left to recover. Since it would take so long to heal, he was permitted to recover in his own room at the barrack, only needing to return to the medical building for weekly checkups. This was a relief to Kenneth. He and Dwight wouldn’t have to be separated too much. He’d still be on his own during the day when Dwight worked, but that would be it. And since he knew Dwight was safe and would be coming back once night fell, Kenneth could easily occupy himself with other things.
It was actually nice to have an excuse to lay in bed all day and listen to radio dramas. And Dwight had been so nice and caring this morning, making sure Kenneth had everything he might need and wouldn’t have to try getting out of bed. He’d left a couple glasses of water and some books on the table that housed the radio so that Kenneth could easily reach them from bed. Dwight was such a good friend.
A few hours later, having drained those glasses of water, Kenneth was regretting his earlier thoughts in which he’d sung Dwight praises. Dwight wasn’t a caring, wonderful man that thought of everything Kenneth could possibly need. No, instead he was now demoted to being a gigantic idiot in Kenneth’s eyes.
Kenneth was feeling an absolutely horrid reminder of all the water he’d drank and could no longer concentrate on the radio, or on his books no matter how hard he tried to. All he could concentrate on was the fact that he NEEDED to urinate, and on the much more unfortunate fact that Dwight was a complete moron.
He felt bad for thinking so badly of his friend when just this morning he’d thought Dwight was absolutely wonderful in every possible way. But, in Kenneth’s mind there were few words that could describe Dwight more adequately than ‘moron’ right now.
Dwight had left everything Kenneth could possibly need right next to his bed.
Everything, that was, except for the crutches he needed to walk.
No, instead Dwight had left those on the other side of the room next to the door.
Kenneth had made an attempt to stand up and get himself to the toilet WITHOUT his crutches, but this was totally futile. Hopping along on his good foot was impossible because he couldn’t stay balanced; he knew he’d end up hurting himself even worse than he already had.
So, all Kenneth could do was lay in bed, his bladder expanding and stretching itself more and more in order to contain the liquid still being dumped to it, and the door to his restroom plainly visible. ‘When Dwight gets back, I am going to literally tear his freaking head off for this,’ Kenneth thought bitterly as his bladder throbbed.
He didn’t mean it, of course. He still loved Dwight, even if he was a complete and total idiot sometimes. But, it was hard NOT to feel at least a little angry when he was so painfully and utterly desperate for the toilet and SHOULD have been able to easily satiate his need. He hoped for a while that Dwight would get a break and would use it to come back here and check on him, at which point Kenneth could yell at him that he is stupid and demand to be brought to the restroom immediately.
But, Dwight apparently DIDN’T manage to get a break today, because he never came. And so Kenneth was just stuck holding it and holding it and holding it.
It was incredibly difficult to do a real pee dance when confined to a bed. Kenneth wanted to be able to stand up, give his bladder a little more room to stretch out. He wanted to jump from foot to foot before doubling over and clutching himself tight.
But, of course, if he was capable of standing, if he was capable of frantically shifting his weight from one foot to the other, THEN he would be capable of walking to the toilet and wouldn’t NEED to do a pee dance at all.
He was trying so hard NOT to look in the direction of the restroom. He was trying so hard NOT to pay attention to how the door to it was wide open, so inviting. Relief was just beyond that threshold and yet still so far from his grasp.
He’d sat up in bed as much as he could, rocking subtly in his spot. Completely on instinct, he’d begun to cross his legs a few times, only for the pain in his foot to remind him that he couldn’t do THAT right now either. He tried very, very hard to think about something else. He thought of new ways to describe Dwight’s apparent lack of a functioning brain. ‘Dwight, you are as stupid as whatever rock you crawled out from under!’, ‘Dwight, you’re dumber than a twig that all the other twigs make fun of!’ This amused him for a few minutes, but before long he could only think of things like ‘Dwight, you’re even stupider than I am when I have to piss so bad that it feels like the urine is flooding my brain and doing permanent damage.’
He then tried to think about the beach, but this plan was aborted rather quickly when he remembered that the best part of the beach was being near the ocean and that his bladder really, really didn’t want to be reminded of oceans right now. It was already holding back a pretty big one of its own, after all.
The fact that he was alone in this room was both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because he could hold himself as much as he wanted and nobody would see. His hands had been tucked between his legs, squeezing away at his aching cock for the past half hour to take some of the edge off of his need. And his solitude was a curse because, with no people around to make him anxious, his bladder wasn’t feeling even the slightest hint of stage fright. He’d had a few pretty big leaks already, which he didn’t think would have happened if someone was around to cause him to get shy and freeze up.
When Dwight finally returned, Kenneth intended for the first words out of his mouth to be an insult, a demand to know why the Hell Dwight had put his crutches where he couldn’t reach, and an angry order to hand them over RIGHT THIS INSTANT. But, instead, by the time Dwight was back, Kenneth was in such a severe state of need that the words “Dwight, I need to relieve myself SO bad!” flew from his lips before he could even think about it. Immediately he blushed at how loud he’d been, particularly since he’d shouted that out before Dwight had shut the door all the way.
Dwight grew concerned, “Oh, Kenneth,” he said, rushing over. He assumed this must have been like the time he got shot, and it had stressed Kenneth out so much that he had been unable to go. “I was okay! You didn’t have to feel nervous and get—“
“You put my crutches by the door, you moron!” Kenneth interrupted. “I couldn’t get up!”
“… Oh,” Dwight said, his stomach sinking as he realized that he’d accidentally forced his friend to hold his bladder in all day long. “Kenneth, I’m SO sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I’m—“
“Less ‘sorry’, more ‘getting me my crutches’!” Kenneth snapped.
Dwight winced at the harshness in his tone, but decided that his friend had every right to be upset at the moment. Dwight hurried to the door and got the crutches, bringing them back to his friend. “There you go,” he said.
Kenneth began to breathe a little easier. He was so close now… And, he supposed, having to wait until Dwight got back DID have some advantages. “Dwight, I may need to lean on you a little bit while I go,” he said. “It’s not super easy to stay balanced on these things.”
“Um… You might have to sit down,” Dwight said. “I really don’t want to risk you falling over and hurting yourself even more.”
Kenneth nibbled a knuckle at those words. He had never been able to pee while seated on the toilet. Pulling his pants down so far made him feel far more exposed than simply unzipping them did. And, sitting was a much more vulnerable position to be in. He knew that the second thing was a little irrational, no one was going to come in here and attack him while he urinated. But, being attacked while trying to pee had been a constant worry in his early years, it had just baked itself into his brain that it was something he had to be concerned about.
He’d TRIED to pee sitting down before. He’d tried to do it loads of times. A few times when he’d had more minor injuries to his leg, ones that hadn’t resulted in a bulky, heavy cast but which still necessitated him leaning against Dwight to stay upright and which made standing a little painful. He’d tried sitting to go a few times then because it had seemed easier, no need to have his friend prop him up, no need to endure the soreness for any extra length of time. But, once he was sat there, he’d start to feel nervous. He’d feel so naked with his pants down like that, even if he never pulled them down any further than his knees. And, then his mind would start racing about how he would be so unable to defend himself… And, then he just wouldn’t be able to go.
He’d tried a few times when he wasn’t hurt as well. If it was the middle of the night and there wasn’t a light available, he would try to sit so he would be sure not to make a mess by aiming his stream blindly. But, it never worked. Being so naked and vulnerable while IN THE DARK felt even worse than being that way with a light on. Sometimes, he’d wake up needing to go and be so sleepy that he didn’t have the ENERGY to stand up and aim, but even his sleep-addled brain would quickly become filled with anxiety.
“I can’t,” he told Dwight.
“You…”
“I…” Kenneth worried at his lip. This was so embarrassing. “I… Um. I can’t pee sitting down.”
Dwight assumed this was perhaps some sort of desire Kenneth had to be ‘manly’, knowing how insecure his high voice, short stature and sensitivity all made him. He could also recall Kenneth teasing Bryce about sitting down to pee a few times, so that was probably all this was. “Kenneth, lots of men pee sitting down sometimes. I’ll do it if I’m half asleep, or—“
“No,” Kenneth said. “That’s not the issue.” He instinctively tried to cross his legs at the next spasm, then yelped at the pain that fired through his foot.
Dwight gripped his shoulder,“Don’t do that…” he said. “I know you’re… Uncomfortable, but you can’t move your legs that way.”
“I can’t help it!” Kenneth snapped, then instantly felt bad. Dwight was only trying to take care of him… “S—Sorry…” he winced.
“It’s okay,” Dwight said, trying not to let Kenneth’s harsh tone get to him. ‘He’s in pain,’ Dwight reminded himself. ‘He’s badly hurt, and he needs to pee urgently— which is mostly YOUR fault— and that’s all making him really stressed.’ Returning to the matter at hand, Dwight tried to think of a way to fix one of those problems. “Kenneth, I don’t understand. Could you tell me why you can’t sit down?”
“It’s— Well, I have to take off more clothes if I sit down.” Another wicked pang of need rippled through Kenneth’s body. He tensed his thighs, fighting so hard not to move his legs in the way his bladder was begging for him to. “So, my… Um… My ‘problem’ is worse.”
“…Oh,” Dwight said. He’d never really thought about how sitting to pee resulted in a bit more exposure, but it made sense that Kenneth definitely HAD thought about it. He also realized that it would be a little tricky to do the usual shoulder-rubbing routine for Kenneth in that position. Maybe if he had Kenneth sit backwards on the toilet it would be easier to do that… But that would mean he’d have to spread his legs out a bit, and with his foot the way it was Dwight wasn’t so sure that would be a good idea. Best to keep him from moving it around very much unless it was completely necessary.
“It’s… It’s just me,” Dwight reminded.
“I know,” Kenneth winced out, his bladder trembling and a small dribble escaping. He almost tried to tie his legs together again, but stopped himself at the last second and allowed his hands to grasp onto his member once more instead. It was embarrassing to clutch at his crotch like this in front of Dwight, but it helped keep his bladder in check without upsetting his hurt foot, so he let himself do it. “But, I’ve never been able to… do THAT… sitting down. Not even when I’m completely alone.”
“I’ll help you relax,” Dwight assured. “Just like I always do. I’ll make it better.”
His hips twitching with each needful surge from within, Kenneth nodded. “O—Okay,” he said. “I’ll try to.”
Kenneth was then met with the next obstacle; Getting up. Getting himself up out of bed when he was dying for a piss was never very easy. There were many mornings where he’d wake up from an intense dream filled with waterfalls and dripping faucets, then cringe and double over once his feet were on the floor and he was fighting against gravity to keep his bladder from spilling its flood down his legs.
But, now with a broken foot, getting up out of bed would have been hard even WITHOUT a full bladder. He first had to let go of his crotch to hold onto his crutches, prompting a teeny little dribble at the loss of the needed pressure. Then, when he hoisted himself up, a panicked, trembling spurt jetted out and he whimpered. “Ah—!!” he gasped. He wanted to hold himself, but his hands were busy. He wanted to cross his legs, but he couldn’t without upsetting his foot. All he could do was grind his thighs together and that just wasn’t enough!
“W—Want me to— Help you hold it?” Dwight asked, unsure of how exactly to phrase what he was trying to offer.
Kenneth nodded frantically. He needed help! It was coming out!
Dwight blushed and pressed his own hand against Kenneth’s crotch, whom bucked thankfully into the pressure. “Is… Is that helping you?”
“Yesss, don’t let go!” Kenneth moaned.
Feeling a little strange by the whole arrangement, Dwight helped Kenneth towards the restroom. Once inside, he discovered Kenneth needed a little assistance getting his pants down since he couldn’t keep both feet planted on the ground. Kenneth was shifting his hips around like mad, and he asked Dwight to please, please not let go of him.
“I have to,” Dwight said. “I’ll help you get your pants down, and then you won’t have to worry about anything anymore.” Trying not to make this any rougher on Kenneth than it already was, Dwight quickly unclasped his friend’s belt, undid his buttons and zip, and lowered his pants while Kenneth stayed balanced with his crutches. Kenneth felt very embarrassed having Dwight pull his clothes down for him, but he knew it would be a lot harder to do this by himself right now and he didn’t feel like he had very much time left to spare.
Dwight felt heat fill his face, as well as a few other areas, while he worked on Kenneth’s clothes. Even if he was only pulling Kenneth’s pants down so that he could urinate, he couldn’t help but feel excited. ‘Nothing’s going to happen,’ he reminded himself. ‘Kenneth’s going to pee. That’s it. And he needs your help to do that, so focus.’
Kenneth very nearly lifted the seat on the toilet out of habit but stopped himself. Once he was seated, he did feel at least sort of relieved. His bladder hadn’t released, of course, but his good foot was no longer being made to support all of his weight and he didn’t have to worry about balancing with his crutches anymore. So, that was at least nice.
After a minute or so of him sitting there with his bladder still as full as ever, any relief he was feeling faded away. He gave a pained moan. “Dwight, I need to go so badly…” he said, his whole body trembling. It wasn’t only desperation that was making him shiver, it was also the nervousness. He knew how silly it was. No one was going to harm him here. Dwight had already seen every part of his body, so it shouldn’t have mattered that he could see them again now… But, still, Kenneth was anxious.
Dwight looked at his friend and felt his stomach drop at how much he was shaking. He was shaking the way he did when Dwight had FIRST started helping him out with his bladder, or when he was in an EXTREMELY stressful environment. He shouldn’t have been THIS nervous when it was just the two of them in their own room.
“You HAVE peed sitting down before,” Dwight tried. “Technically. The times you’ve used bottles in bed. You were sitting then.” He badly wished that they had a bottle he could use NOW, since he knew for sure that Kenneth would be able to do it.
“That’s different, I just unzipped then,” Kenneth said.
Of course, Dwight had known that that was a major difference. Maybe not to most people, but to Kenneth it was a very IMPORTANT difference… He turned to the sink and cranked it on.
“Ohh—!” Kenneth moaned as the sound drove painful daggers into his bladder. He jiggled around where he sat.
“Don’t,” Dwight said. “If you squirm like that, you won’t be able to go.”
“Dwight, I can’t hold it…” Kenneth whimpered.
“I know,” Dwight said. “Stop trying. You don’t have to hold it right now. You’re safe. Just let it out. I’m right here.”
“I can’t…” Kenneth winced. “I have to go so bad, and I can’t… It hurts…”
Dwight’s heart clenched. He knew that, in a way, this was his fault. He hated himself for being dumb enough to just leave the crutches in a random place. It was his fault Kenneth had ended up holding it this long. And, while he knew that, had Kenneth had access to his crutches, he would have attempted to do this standing up and risked falling and hurting himself, he still couldn’t help but feel awful.
He knelt down beside Kenneth. He couldn’t hold him and rub his shoulders like always, but maybe he could still help him calm down. He combed a hand through Kenneth’s hair. “Shh… I’m here… Let it go now… Listen to the faucet…” He ran his hand down Kenneth’s face, down his body and then caressed the top of his thigh, and—
“Ah—!” Kenneth gasped out, and for a second Dwight thought he’d managed to soothe him into peeing. But, the only sound of running water in the room was still from the sink.
“Kenneth, what’s—“
“Well, now I REALLY can’t go!” Kenneth said, his voice wavering with something Dwight didn’t recognize. There was embarrassment, but there was also something else…
“Why n—“ Dwight stopped, realizing that one of the places he’d tried massaging Kenneth’s anxiety away HAD had an effect, just not the effect they’d both been hoping for.
Kenneth’s cock had stiffened, and he was trying his best to cover it up. “I’m sorry!” he said. “I didn’t mean to!”
“I’M sorry!” Dwight said. “I was just trying to— I guess when I touched your thigh, that was kind of close to your— I’m sorry.” Dwight had always had trouble urinating with an erection, and he was sure it was even worse for Kenneth whom already had so much trouble urinating just in general. He hadn’t helped Kenneth at all, he’d made it worse, and— And he REALLY wished that this wasn’t turning him on right now.
It SHOULDN’T have been. Instead of fixing Kenneth’s problem, he’d just given him another one. He shouldn’t have been feeling so excited. So what if it was kind of hot that Kenneth’s body had such a strong reaction to such a small touch. So what? It shouldn’t have been making Dwight feel so warm. It shouldn’t have been making him think of how fun it would be to mess around with Kenneth right now. It shouldn’t have been making him remember how cute and limp and relaxed Kenneth got after he climaxed.
‘Limp and relaxed…’ Dwight thought.
No.
That was a horrible idea.
It probably wouldn’t even work.
Kenneth would be disgusted if Dwight even suggested it.
What if someone found out?
‘Inside this room, when the door is locked, and we stay as quiet as we can… We’re together.’ That’s what Kenneth had told him.
And, well, they were in their room. The door was locked. And Dwight was sure they could stay mostly quiet… Even though he was sure that THIS was not Kenneth’s top priority right now, Dwight asked; “Do you mind if I touch you?”
Kenneth’s jiggling and squirming stopped for a second. But only for a second. His bladder was thrashing and he was bursting and he just needed to go so, so much… “Now?!” he asked, incredulous.
“Yes,” Dwight nodded. “Because, last time I… Touched you that way, you were super relaxed and calm afterwards, I wanted to see if maybe—“
Kenneth had never felt such an extreme mixture of embarrassment and excitement in his life. Dwight wanted to jerk him off… Because it just might make him pee? Kenneth couldn’t deny that, after an orgasm, he did always feel light and floaty and relaxed, all the things he needed to feel in order to drain his bladder… It might actually work.
He wasn’t certain of it though. He wasn’t certain of a lot of things. First, he wasn’t certain if he… Well, if he could actually ‘finish’ in this state. His bladder was hurting him very, very badly. The pain in his middle was as intense as Hell, and even if Kenneth thought Dwight’s hand felt downright Heavenly around the sensitive flesh of his cock, he didn’t know if the pleasure Dwight would inevitably bring him would be enough to cancel out the agony he was already in. Kenneth was so incredibly inexperienced in these matters, he’d had so few orgasms that weren’t the result of wet dreams, he didn’t know if a person could actually cum if they were also feeling pain.
Second, he wasn’t certain if Dwight was offering this because he WANTED to do it, or if he was only offering it because there was a chance it would help Kenneth. Kenneth didn’t want to take advantage of Dwight in that way, make him feel like he just HAD to pleasure him. “You don’t have to do that,” Kenneth said.
“I’d like to,” Dwight said. “I want to if you want to. And it might help you out… I mean, you’re definitely not going to pee very easily with… THAT going on.”
Kenneth knew Dwight was correct. His cock hadn’t softened up even a little in all the time he’d spent mulling this over. If anything, it felt stiffer, all of the blood in his body seeming to flow south. “I… I want you to,” Kenneth admitted.
Dwight reached his hand out, then paused. His own pants were growing uncomfortably tight, and as an idea flashed through his mind, it got worse. ‘This isn’t about you,’ he admonished himself. ‘This is about helping Kenneth feel better.’
“Dwight…” Kenneth whined out. So many feelings were flitting through his mind and body right now, he felt like he’d explode in so many different ways. His bladder felt like it was about to crack open, his cock ached for Dwight’s touch… “I—“
Dwight timidly drew his hand closer to himself. He felt awful making Kenneth keep waiting, especially since he wasn’t entirely sure that bringing him off would do anything to help his bladder at all. But… He wanted— No, he NEEDED— for Kenneth to do this. “Kenneth… Can… Um… Can you… Could you maybe order me to?”
What little blood wasn’t already contained within Kenneth’s member flew to his face. This was a new feeling. It was new and exciting and made him need Dwight’s strokes more than anything. He needed Dwight touching him more than he needed to pee— And that was saying a lot, because holy FUCK did Kenneth need to pee. Even through his desperation, even through his shyness, even through his uncertainty and confusion, Kenneth found his voice. And not his normal one, either. His commanding one, his tough one, his ‘you’d better do what I say if you know what’s good for you’ one.
“Dwight,” Kenneth said. “I order you to touch me RIGHT now! And do it right!” He wasn’t sure what the Hell that last part was even supposed to mean, he didn’t think there was a ‘wrong’ way Dwight could do this, after all.
But, Dwight had a very clear reaction to those words, Kenneth could see the bulge growing in his pants as he slipped his hand between Kenneth’s legs. He grasped hold of Kenneth’s aching cock, so sensitive with the need to release his cum and piss. Dwight began to rub up and down, slow at first, then faster and faster.
“O—Ohhhhh….” Kenneth moaned quietly. He had never, ever felt something like this before. Dwight’s hand was so skilled at figuring out what Kenneth liked, and he was already leaking little bits of precum. But, underneath all the ecstasy, the pressure in his bladder was still ever present. The swollen ball of urine was pressing forcefully downwards against his opening. The result was that his tip was unbelievably sensitive, and every light stroke there drew forth another groaning gasp. “Dwight… Dwight— I— I DEMAND that you go faster—!” he managed between pants.
Dwight had unzipped his pants and had begun stroking his own cock lightly as he continued pumping Kenneth’s. Hearing Kenneth commanding him… It was almost enough to make Dwight come right there. He followed Kenneth’s orders, increasing the speed of his strokes, and being rewarded by more gasps and cries of pleasure.
Kenneth did not close his eyes even as the waves of pleasure made it harder to keep them open. He didn’t want to stop looking at Dwight. That concentrated expression on his face, the shine of sweat on his brow, the pink flush to his cheeks… Kenneth could feel the end building, and he almost commanded Dwight to stop so that it would last longer, but Kenneth needed the release. He needed every kind of release right now. He needed to cum so hard he saw stars. He needed to pee until he was completely dried out and floaty with relief. He needed to limp his way back into bed and fall asleep as Dwight held him. He needed release.
As soon as he’d thought that, the heat inside his body burned a little too brightly and he shook as his cum splattered up and over his chest. “Ohhh!” His whole body shook, his ears rang and his vision went haywire.
Dwight released Kenneth’s cock— Then quickly grabbed hold of it again as he realized that, as soon as Kenneth’s orgasm had subsided, his pee had begun to gush from his tip instead. He guided it back downwards, allowing Kenneth’s urine stream to continue flowing uninterrupted into the bowl with a loud, spattery hiss.
Kenneth blinked, a little dazed from his intense orgasm, before realizing that he now felt amazing in a different way. His bladder was finally deflating, the pressure fading away drop by drop by drop. Another moan tore through him then, “Ahhhh….” His chest heaved up and down and he slumped back against the tank of the toilet.
Dwight made himself stop pumping his own cock and asked breathlessly, “Feeling better? Did that help you?”
“I feel so good right now, Dwight…” Kenneth barely managed to say between gasps for air. And he did feel good. He felt like he could float away. Every nerve and synapse in his body was either overcome with pleasure or so relaxed that he felt like he could fall asleep right then and there. His urine gushed and gushed and gushed, forcefully striking the water underneath him, an absolute torrent of liquid, and all he had to do was just sit back and enjoy how wonderful it all felt.
He was glad he’d finally managed to relieve himself sitting down, but he didn’t think he’d want to do it very often, seeing as he DID still feel pretty raw and vulnerable at the moment— But, right now, he felt raw and vulnerable with the only person in the world that he was OKAY with being raw and vulnerable around. He didn’t mind it one bit.
Now, he DID let his eyes go closed, he let his lips part, he let his bladder just keep draining and draining until nothing but a little drizzle was still coming out, which ceased after a few more seconds.
“All done?” Dwight asked once Kenneth’s stream had quieted down. “Bett—“
He was interrupted by the sound of another brief but powerful spurt of liquid hissing against the porcelain. “O—Okay,” Kenneth said once it had stopped. “N-NOW I’m done.” He reached to shake himself off, then Dwight gently helped him up and assisted him with pulling his pants back up and re-zipping them. Dwight looked then at the semen stuck to his shirt and realized that it would need to be washed off. Most likely in the sink for now, it wouldn’t be good if someone saw that particular stain.
Kenneth managed to get back to his bed on his crutches alone while Dwight tried to clean off his shirt. Once Dwight had returned and handed Kenneth a new shirt to put on, Kenneth said; “Um… That was… That was kind of… Weird, wasn’t it?”
Dwight didn’t say anything. He supposed ‘Requesting that your friend, who’s really a lot more than a friend, to command you to give him a hand job while you help him pee because he has a shy bladder’ probably wasn’t the most normal thing in the world to be doing. “Kind of,” he agreed. “Not bad though, right?”
“No,” Kenneth shook his head. “It wasn’t bad. It worked, after all. And, I badly needed for SOMETHING to work. Even if it was a little strange.” He paused, shaking his head again. “Well. A LOT strange,” he corrected himself.
“You liked it, though?” Dwight asked. He hated how whiny he sounded, but this was all so new, so different. He wanted to be able to keep doing these things with Kenneth, to keep being able to touch him and be touched by him in every way possible. He didn’t want to mess it up.
“Yes, I did enjoy it,” Kenneth said. “There was one thing I did not care for though.”
Dwight frowned. ‘It was the ‘order me’ thing,’ he thought. ‘It was definitely the ‘order me’ thing. He thought it was too weird.’ He was at least a little surprised Kenneth hadn’t enjoyed that, Kenneth LIKED to feel in charge after all… He would have thought that taking a controlling, dominant role while they did these things would be the sort of thing Kenneth loved. He wouldn’t FORCE Kenneth to do that if he didn’t like it, of course. He was just a little shocked that he didn’t—
“You made me climax,” Kenneth said. “But, you made YOURSELF stop before you reached that point.” Blushing and covering his face a little. “And… And I… I ORDER you to let me get you there?”
Dwight’s heart started to pound. “You…”
“O—Only if you want me to, of course,” Kenneth said quickly, realizing that perhaps his exact wording had made it seem like Dwight didn’t have a real choice. “If you don’t want—“
“I want to,” Dwight said, interrupting him.
“Heh, alright then. I COMMAND you to pull your pants down and sit next to me.” |
Dwight thought that the worst thing about Kenneth’s foot was the fact that it was now safer for him to sleep alone in his own bed at night. Lights out was the only chance they really had to get as close to one another as they wanted. Kenneth’s injury had taken that away.
Kenneth thought that the worst thing about his broken foot, aside from the pain itself, was how much extra help it meant he needed. While he had definitely… enjoyed the extra help Dwight had given in the restroom, it was maddening to need assistance with slowly walking short distances when he used to be able to run for miles easily. He hated needing help, and he hated that his injury had made it so that he needed more help than ever.
Both were relieved when Kenneth had healed up enough to no longer need his crutches or cast. He was ready to get back to his regular life.
Then, Bryce reminded him that, now he was better, he still needed to retake the fitness exam soon. Kenneth groaned at that. He was, at least, always ABLE to do the things the exam required of him, but quite a few of them were very difficult for him and NONE of them were all that enjoyable.
“Tomorrow,” Bryce said. “That is the final day I have to submit this information. If it is not turned in before noon, we will likely BOTH be disciplined.”
Kenneth knew that Bryce WOULD be in trouble if he didn’t have all the paperwork in order. Bryce’s superiors were so strict and stern that he didn’t even think “But his foot was literally broken!” would suffice as an excuse for any tardiness in submitting Kenneth’s fitness report.
“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Dwight said that night. “Don’t worry.” He was already in his bed even though it was not yet time for light’s out. Excitement was bubbling in his chest; Kenneth was well enough to share the bed with him finally!
Kenneth nodded. He wasn’t looking forward to trying to climb a tree again. As unlikely as it was that the same thing would happen twice, it still made him feel apprehensive
When Kenneth started towards his own bed, Dwight couldn’t bite back the disappointed sounding groan that built in the back of his throat.
“Hm?” Kenneth asked.
“Your foot’s better,” Dwight stated.
“I know.”
“That means you don’t need to…” Dwight trailed off. He couldn’t believe how dry his mouth had suddenly gotten. What was the matter with him? He was talking to Kenneth! Talking to Kenneth was supposed to be the easiest god damned thing in the world! It was supposed to be as simple as breathing! But, tonight his stomach was tied in knots and his tongue along with it. “I just— I thought that maybe…”
Kenneth looked down at his feet. He wanted to. He REALLY wanted to. A bed just felt so empty and cold without someone next to him. “The door is locked?”
“Yes,” Dwight said. “I already checked.”
Kenneth checked again anyway. “I… I guess we could…” he said. His heart was thrumming and he could hear blood rushing in his ears. He wished he could calm down. He and Dwight had shared a bed lots of times before. They’d done it every so often ever since they were little. But, it felt so different now. How could something that used to feel so mundane suddenly make him feel so intense?
Kenneth approached Dwight’s bed and laid himself down beside him. Somehow, Dwight’s bed felt softer than his own ever had. And, even though it was meant for a single occupant, he didn’t feel the least bit cramped sharing it with someone else. He didn’t feel any of that tightness or panic, he didn’t feel any sense of confinement, none of the things he usually suffered through when he was in a small space. When Dwight put his arm around him and pulled him in close, there was no fear, he didn’t feel trapped. He felt so safe and so warm. He finally understood why other people called enclosed spaces cozy.
Kenneth snuggled into Dwight’s arms, feeling sleepy already. “Goodnight,” he said. “I… Um… I… I really, really care about you…”
Dwight smiled, giving the back of Kenneth’s neck a short kiss. “I really, really care about you too…” he said.
***
Kenneth had to use the restroom VERY badly, and he was so angry with himself for it. If he’d remembered to do it before falling asleep last night, then his bladder would certainly not be THIS full now. But, he HADN’T gone before falling asleep last night. He’d been too exhausted. Not being allowed to sleep for three days had a way of doing that to a person.
Father liked to control every aspect of Kenneth’s life. Just like he controlled and monitored when Kenneth urinated, Father had rules about Kenneth’s sleeping patterns as well. Father would sometimes force him to stand all night, just outside his bedroom doorway where he could keep watch of him. Father would fall asleep, and Kenneth would continue to stand there. Kenneth would get so tired that eventually his body couldn’t take it anymore and he’d slump to the floor and lose consciousness.
When Father found him there the next morning, fast asleep, he would be furious at him for disobeying orders and would kick him down the stairs as punishment. Kenneth would be jolted awake and his mind would barely even be able to comprehend what had happened.
Eventually, Kenneth had fallen asleep outside the door one too many times, so Father imposed a new rule to prevent that from happening. Rather than just standing there all night, he would instead be required to run up and down the stairs. “I can’t trust you to stay awake all night otherwise, you little shit!”
Usually, Father only did this to him once a week, but for whatever reason he’d chosen to do it to him three nights in a row. After that final night, Kenneth was dead on his feet, so fatigued that he continually nearly fell asleep standing up. “Oh God, you lazy brat!” Father kept shouting. “Keep your eyes open!”
By the time night finally came yesterday, and Father was going to bed, Kenneth could have wept with relief when he didn’t order him to jog up and down the stairs. He was going to be allowed to rest. Finally.
Ordinarily, once Father was asleep, Kenneth would rush to the toilet immediately. He would finally have privacy in which to relieve himself, no one shouting at him or shaming him for his countless inadequacies. He’d always pee very softly, aiming his stream so it wouldn’t hit the water directly. Since he was always so ridiculously desperate to go at the end of each day, he struggled to keep himself from vocalizing how good it felt to let it all out. So, often he’d stuff a washcloth into his mouth in order to muffle any groans or sighs of relief.
But, last night Kenneth had been too exhausted to even notice his bladder. The minute he’d dragged himself to the closet in which Father had designated he was allowed to sleep, he was out cold. So, when he woke this morning, much later than he normally did, Kenneth was almost knocked sideways by the shock at how badly he needed to use the toilet.
He immediately put his hands between his trembling legs as he struggled to his feet. Then, remembering how angry Father got when he put his hands there, forced them to move and stuffed them into his mouth to chew on them instead. He felt more well rested finally, but he also felt like an enormous ball of fire was inside his abdomen. ‘Maybe he’s not awake yet,’ Kenneth thought. ‘Ohhh, please don’t let him be awake yet! I cannot wait all day!’
He moved to the restroom as quickly as he could, knowing he was in a race against time in two ways; his bladder’s ability to hold it, and his Father’s inevitable appearance. He reached the door to the toilet. ‘Oh, I am going to have an accident! Hurry!’ He grabbed the doorknob, but it wouldn’t move. ‘No, please!’ he thought desperately.
He remembered a few other times when Father had locked the door to the restroom, and how each of those times had ended with him creating a puddle on the floor just outside of it. Kenneth actually HOPED that was what Father had done this time, because the alternative was that Father was awake already and IN there. At least, if the door was just locked, Kenneth could try to find a container to release his waters into. A while ago, Dwight had told him that it was actually okay to go into a container if he REALLY needed to!
He scurried back; A container wouldn’t be too hard to find. Father left his empty bottles all over the place all the time. One of those would be a perfectly suitable emergency bathroom. He found one on the floor a few steps from the restroom and scrambled to pick it up. Oh, relief at last! A hand busied itself at the button on his shorts as his thighs squeezed together tight. Just a few more seconds, just a few more sec—
The door to the restroom opened and his Father stumbled out. “The Hell are you doing?” he demanded.
Kenneth jolted and dropped the bottle, a spurt of pee trickling down his leg with fright. “N—Nothing, sir…” he said. He hoped Father had actually wanted him to respond then, otherwise he was about to be punished for speaking without permission.
“You know you aren’t allowed to drink my shit,” Father said.
Kenneth danced from foot to foot. He hadn’t been drinking anything. Just the thought of drinking something right now made him want to cry.
“What’s wrong with you?” Father demanded.
“I… I need the toilet,” Kenneth said. “Please? May I?”
“No,” Father said. “You just went yesterday, that’s enough.”
Kenneth HAD gone yesterday. He’d urinated on himself while Father had been belting him for dropping a plate. Which he’d only dropped because of a combination of the exhaustion from his lack of sleep, and the distraction caused by his full bladder.
But, that had been at around five in the afternoon. So many hours ago. He had to go again now! “F—Father,” he said. “I— I really need—“
“I don’t give a shit what you think you need,” Father said. “You get WHAT I give you WHEN I give it to you. I’m sick of having this argument with you every day.”
That didn’t make much sense to Kenneth. There wouldn’t even BE an argument if Father would just let him go pee when he needed to… Was it really so bad to use the toilet when he was about to have an accident? Father peed all the time… Why were the rules different for him? ‘But, I can’t hold it…’ Kenneth thought miserably.
“I needed to talk to you about something anyway,” Father said. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I haven’t been letting you sleep lately.”
Kenneth looked up. Without realizing it, his hands had returned to their spot between his legs. Every few seconds his thighs would tense themselves around them.
“Your friend,” Father said. “Dwayne?”
“D—Dwight…” Kenneth corrected.
“Yes,” Father said. “At the pub, a few of my friends have spoken to me about the two of you. They’ve seen you holding hands.”
Kenneth didn’t reply. He didn’t know if he was allowed to, and didn’t know what he’d even say if he was. He didn’t understand it. Why did Father’s drinking buddies tell him about that? Why had it even been interesting enough for them to remember seeing?
“How do you think that made me feel?” Father asked. “To have someone come up to me and say ‘That boy of yours is a fairy’?”
‘A… what?’ Kenneth wondered. He knew about the fairies in the books his Mother read to him when he was smaller, but he had no idea what Father was talking about.
“Are they right?” Father asked. “Did I raise a dysfunctional sodomite?”
Kenneth didn’t know what that meant either, but it sounded like something bad, so he shook his head. He was so confused. Nothing Father was saying made any sense, but he was obviously very angry, and that was scary, and Kenneth just needed the bathroom SO badly, and—
“You made me into a fucking laughingstock that night,” Father said. He approached Kenneth and shoved him backwards, causing him to stumble and for his bladder to leak again. “Move your fucking hands, or so HELP me—“
Kenneth untucked his hands from the crease between his legs, but he still needed to pee so much, and he couldn’t hold it—
“Tell me,” Father said. “Tell me you’re a fucking fairy.”
Kenneth couldn’t find his voice, it was lost to his confusion and desperation.
“TELL ME!” Father shouted.
Kenneth started to cry, tears streaming down his face. “I—I don’t understand!” he wailed out. “I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t know!” he kept repeating. “Please, I don’t know what that means! I— I need the toilet, please just—“
Father slapped him across the face and he stumbled to the floor. A stream started to jet into his shorts and he pressed his hands against himself, desperate to stop it. He managed to halt the flow, but so much still had to come out, and he still didn’t know what Father was talking about, and he NEEDED for this to end.
“I don’t give a SHIT,” Father snarled. “God, I can’t even fucking look at you… You’re a revulsion.” He took a few steps away from Kenneth. “Your useless Mother couldn’t even give me a proper son, could she?”
And then, something very strange happened. Something flamed through Kenneth’s veins, pooling red hot in his belly before surging upwards with fiery heat. This feeling had only happened once before, when Kenneth had been defending Dwight from a bully, and THAT time it had ended with him knocking some of the bully’s teeth out.
Kenneth didn’t hit his Father, but he did do something else that was sure to get him into trouble.
He yelled.
“Don’t you DARE talk about her,” Kenneth shouted, the words pouring out of him so quickly he had no time to reign them back in, bursting forth with the intensity of hot peppers. “Don’t you DARE. You keep her name out of your mouth, you disgusting, vile bastard! My Mother was nice and loving and everything you’re not, you’re—“
Father had been momentarily too shocked by Kenneth’s sudden show of insolence to do anything about it, but once he’d caught his bearings again he gripped a fistful of his son’s hair and lifted him up by it. Kenneth screamed from pain as agony blazed a trail through his scalp. He didn’t even notice he’d lost control over his bladder until his Father shouted; “You filthy little bastard!” and dropped him. Kenneth immediately collapsed back onto his knees, a puddle spreading out beneath him despite his best efforts to stop it. He sobbed so hard he could barely breathe, tears practically blinding him to the point he could barely see Father loosening his belt.
***
Dwight woke up when he felt Kenneth beginning to squirm against him. Groggily, he looked to his side and saw Kenneth with a pained expression on his face. Thinking his friend was probably having a nightmare, and remembering how deeply he slept, Dwight shook him a little, very harshly.
Blearily, Kenneth’s eyes cracked open. They widened slightly, his heart rate starting to slow back down. He wasn’t with his Father. His Father was dead. He was safe in a nice, warm bed. He was safe in a nice, warm bed and Dwight was right there. He started to close his eyes again, before noticing a discomfort that had followed him from his dream.
Dwight started to rub his back, “Shhhh… Just a dream,” he said. “I’m here. You’re always safe when I’m here…Do you need to talk about it?”
“Just… Just another memory of my Father,” Kenneth said. “One of the times he… One of the times he made me have an…” He squirmed from more than just embarrassment.
“Oh…” Dwight said. “Try not to feel ashamed, you were only little. And, it was all your dad’s fault.” He felt silly trying to console Kenneth for an accident that had happened years ago.
“I know…” Kenneth mumbled sleepily. He wanted to rest more. He was still so tired, and Dwight was so warm. His eyelids were too heavy…
When Kenneth began snoring again, Dwight stroked his back a few more times before gently kissing his neck. “No more bad dreams, okay darling?” he murmured.
***
Kenneth woke the next morning to a flutter of nerves. He wasn’t normally this anxious before a fitness exam, even if he did always dread them. This time, however, remembering the pain in his foot after everything went wrong… He couldn’t help but feel a lot of trepidation.
He also REALLY didn’t want to get out of bed. He wanted to lay there forever, cuddling Dwight and feeling so, so fuzzy and warm inside.
“Time to get dressed,” Dwight said.
Kenneth begrudgingly dragged himself out of bed. He grabbed his uniform and was about to head for the restroom, but made himself stop. Dwight changed out in the main area of their room every day, and Kenneth had secretly enjoyed watching it happen every single time. Would Dwight… Like to see him do it too?
‘Dwight’s already seen everything,’ Kenneth reminded himself. He quickly yanked off his pajama shirt and bottoms, exposing the legs and arms he always thought of as too twiggy, the skin he’d always known was too pasty, and the chest he always viewed as being much too concave. His body was just too small and unappealing!
Dwight, whom was about to remove his own pajamas, stopped cold. Kenneth was really doing this; He was changing right out in the open instead of behind the locked bathroom door, and Dwight stared. He stared at Kenneth’s graceful arms and lithe legs. He stared at Kenneth’s very kissable skin. He stared at Kenneth’s cute little nipples and smooth, flat stomach. His body was just too supple and hot!
Kenneth got dressed a little too quickly for Dwight’s liking. He seemed to be rushing through it as fast as he could, and when he was done he was pink in the face and breathing a little funny. Dwight wondered if he should say something. But what? ‘Good job’ sounded too patronizing. ‘Do it again, but slowly’? No, he didn’t want to come off as perverse…
“I… I wish you could see your body the way I do,” Dwight finally said.
Kenneth blushed more. Dwight HAD liked watching him change. Maybe he could convince himself to do it more often…
When Kenneth arrived in the field for his fitness exam, he finally realized the mistake his little change in routine had caused. Every morning, Kenneth went into the bathroom to change his clothes. First, he would pull off his pajama pants, then he would immediately turn to face the toilet and relieve his bladder of all the urine his kidneys had so rudely pumped into it during the night. After that, he would take off his shirt and put on his uniform.
Today though, he hadn’t gone into the bathroom to change, and so one of the most important steps of his routine had been skipped over; He had not peed. He remembered then how he’d woken in the night, needing to go, and had instead quickly fallen back asleep. Now that it was time for his exam, his bladder was throbbing and letting him know how unhappy it was about being ignored like this.
Dwight normally reminded him before they left for the day, though! He always asked “Kenneth, are you ready?” just in case Kenneth had forgotten his morning piss! And he hadn’t done that today! Kenneth momentarily felt a bit of frustration towards his friend, but tamped it down. HE’D forgotten it too after all, even though it was HIS bladder!
“Okay,” Bryce said. “We are going to need to get through this a little faster than usual, I am already late to submitting these forms. Are you ready to begin?”
Kenneth wanted to shake his head, say he had to pee first, but he knew that that would never work. It would take him at least twenty minutes to walk to his barrack, then a couple minutes to pee, and then another twenty minutes to walk back here. If he could just go right here in the field, then sure, he’d ask. But, he couldn’t do it here. The field was totally open, save for a few sparse trees, and his bladder would never surrender to his demands out here. “Yes, I’m ready,” he said.
“Good,” Bryce said. “No breaking your foot this time, alright?”
Kenneth groaned. “I didn’t INTEND to do that.”
“Sure,” Bryce said. “So first, I need to see how many push-ups you can do.”
Kenneth groaned again. He hated doing push-ups. His arms always got so sore so quickly. He got himself into position and—
‘Oh my God!’
It was like all of his body weight was being pushed against his bladder. Literally all of it. It felt like the poor organ was being smushed under a big stack of cinderblocks. It felt like it was being squeezed between a pair of forceps. It felt like it was being squished inside of a juicer. When he’d been standing beside Bryce, rocking from side to side ever so slightly, it hadn’t felt like he’d been having an emergency. His need had been there of course, it had been noticeable, but it had been more annoying than anything else. But, this change in position, this extra stress being put onto his body… This was a bad idea. He couldn’t do this. He could NOT take this exam without first relieving himself, it would be impossible.
“Bryce—“
“Start,” Bryce said.
Kenneth obeyed. Every time he lowered himself, he felt his bladder twist and turn. He wanted to cross his legs, but that was impossible. He wanted to hold himself, but that was impossible. He wanted to PEE, but that was the most impossible thing of all. All he could do was kind of tighten his thigh muscles a little bit and hope for the best. All of his focus was just on his bladder, as he robotically lifted his body up and down over and over again. The burning tightness in his arm muscles couldn’t even register overtop of the screaming, pleading whines from inside his abdomen.
He clenched his teeth so hard he was scared he was going to crack them when his bladder gave a pained, shuddering jolt. He had to stop this, but giving up would mean allowing his body to collapse onto the dirt ground beneath him. And he knew what would happen if he did that, he would be laying right on top of his bladder, and the pain would be absolutely awful. He managed a few more push-ups, then was able to gently drag himself to his feet, which immediately began to bounce. The sudden shift in gravity had caused the liquid inside his body to slosh downwards, but the intense pressure of all his weight compressing his bladder was no longer there.
“Wow, Paulson,” Bryce said. “That’s twice as many as last time!” He made a note on his clipboard. “Still nowhere near as many as I can do, of course, but still a step above what a three year old girl can do, which is more than I can say for your usual performa—“
“Bryce, can we stop for a moment?” Kenneth interrupted.
“No, we most certainly cannot,” Bryce said. “Like I told you, I’m already behind schedule and I am not in the mood to be yelled at today.”
Kenneth frowned. “What’s next?”
“Next is the tree climbing thing,” Bryce said.
Kenneth winced.
“However,” Bryce went on, lowering his voice. “If you promise not to tell anyone, I will just make up a time for this one, you won’t have to actually do it… Let’s say you managed to climb to the top in about three minutes? Does that sound reasonable?”
Kenneth nodded. He didn’t want to go near those trees again after last time, and anything that made this end sooner and got him to the toilet faster was a great idea to him.
“Now, I’m not doing this to be nice to you,” Bryce added. “I just feel that this part of the exam is dangerous and stupid, so I have chosen not to administer it. It has nothing to do with you. Next up, I need to see how many sit-ups you can do.”
“Okay,” Kenneth said. Generally, he was a bit better at sit-ups than he was at push-ups. His back would start to ache eventually, but he could usually push through that for a while before he just HAD to stop. He laid down on the ground and waited for Bryce to tell him to start.
Laying there, his bladder actually felt pretty alright. He still definitely needed a restroom break, but he wasn’t worried about anything bursting. When Bryce told him to start and he curled his body in on itself, though—
“Ah!” Kenneth was unable to stop the pained cry that flew from his lips. Nor could he stop the squirt of pee that soaked into his boxers. When he brought his torso up, his bladder was squeezed so much it was like it was getting stomped on by an elephant.
“Paulson…?” Bryce asked. “Is your foot still bothering y—“
“I’m f-f-fine!” Kenneth managed to choke out, dropping backwards. He’d completed one sit-up, and his bladder was BEGGING him not to attempt a second. “Bryce, I’m very sorry, I forgot to—“
“Keep going,” Bryce said. “I know you can do more than that.”
Kenneth knew he could do more than one sit-up, too. He knew he could do a lot more than one. He could always do a lot more than one. Just, normally he wasn’t also trying to complete a different sort of exercise at the same time. Sit-ups were supposed to strengthen his core muscles, he knew. But, the only muscles being worked out right now were the ones in charge of his bladder.
He forced himself to go through the motions again, and again his bladder shrieked as it was compressed in on itself, and again Kenneth leaked. He couldn’t do this. He absolutely couldn’t. If he did it one more time, he’d have an accident for sure. He stood himself up, hunched over slightly and squirming.
“Paulson,” Bryce said. “What’s the matter? My grandmother could do better than that!”
“I need to—“
“Are you sure you have healed?” Bryce asked. “Did you not rest and take the medication as you were told t—“
“Bryce, I can’t do this!” Kenneth interrupted. His bladder was throbbing with wild fervor. He may have stopped leaking, but he could feel more urine desperately forcing its way down his shaft, he could feel tiny droplets slipping through his urethra. Not enough to bring him even the slightest hint of relief, but just enough to fill him with shame and to create a taunting damp patch in his boxers. He crossed his legs overtop of each other, shaking with need as a hand flew to his mouth, teeth sinking into the delicate skin of his pinky finger.
“You are still sore?” Bryce guessed. “You need time to rest between exerci—“ He stopped. “You… Are dying for a piss right now, aren’t you?”
Kenneth tried to fight back the heat filling his cheeks, but he couldn’t. “I forgot to relieve myself this morning…”
Bryce blinked at Kenneth. Personally, he couldn’t imagine how it would be possible for someone to forget to take a leak immediately after waking up. Every morning of Bryce’s life began with him scrambling madly to the nearest appropriate place to urinate— Not that he’d ever admit that. And he’d certainly never admit to any of the unpleasant events Bryce had endured that had been caused by a combination of morning wood and a very full bladder.
It didn’t matter how much Bryce drank before bed, or if he woke up during the night to go, as soon as morning came he’d always be ready to burst. He’d always thought everyone was like that, and during training had been stunned by how easily some other people were able to hold off until they got their turn to use the toilet. Meanwhile, Bryce either had to be first in line to go each morning or he’d have no choice but to find relief outside.
Forgetting to pee after waking up was something Bryce could never imagine himself doing. And it was something he couldn’t really imagine Kenneth doing, either. Kenneth was WELL aware of all the issues he had in regards to urinating, so surely ‘Pee before you leave!’ was something hardwired into his brain by now, right?
“How could you forget that?” Bryce asked. He knew his tone was harsh, but he thought he had every right to be a little annoyed. Kenneth’s injury had already put him behind schedule, and obviously the exam couldn’t proceed when Kenneth’s bladder had swelled so much it had basically incapacitated him. But, getting Kenneth to piss was harder than trying to separate poppy seeds from peppercorns with boxing gloves on. It would not happen in a timely fashion, and Bryce was sure he’d be late to submit his paperwork, and then he’d be shouted at. “Didn’t you notice you had to go!?”
“No…” Kenneth said, miserable. “I forgot. I’m sorry. I was just… distracted.”
Bryce checked his watch; It was nearly eleven. He needed to submit Kenneth’s information by noon. Factoring in the time it would take him to get the paperwork to where it needed to go, that meant they had less than an hour to finish this up. “What the Hell could have distracted you from pissing?”
‘Dwight watching me change my clothes and then telling me how good I look…’ Kenneth’s face flushed and his pulse quickened as he tried to think of any other explanation. “I… Was nervous about the exam,” he lied. He’d barely been thinking about the exam at all. He hadn’t been thinking about anything that was important. He hadn’t been focusing on what he’d need to do to ensure he’d perform well in his exam. He hadn’t been focusing on how very important it was for him to empty his bladder before leaving each morning. He’d only been focusing on Dwight and on how how funny it made him feel to see that deep blush that spread across his face while he gazed so intently at his half-nude body. “I was…. I was just nervous.”
‘Well, you sure as Hell have a reason to be nervous about it now!’ Bryce thought bitterly.
“May I please go back and… Take care of things now?” Kenneth requested.
“Absolutely not!” Bryce snapped, shocked that Kenneth would seriously suggest that at this point. “We do NOT have the time for that. We are running SO late as it is, and it’s not my fault you’re too stupid to remember to piss!”
“I’m NOT stupid!” Kenneth shouted back. “Are you seriously going to pretend YOU’VE never forgotten anything before? Go lick a donkey’s taint!”
Bryce’s breathing evened out. Kenneth was insulting him back. That was good. That meant he wasn’t TOO bad off yet. That meant Bryce didn’t need to feel THAT bad about continuing…
Except. He did feel bad. He felt REALLY bad.
Bryce was about to make a note of the two measly sit-ups Kenneth had managed to pull off, but stopped. ‘That wouldn’t be fair…’ he thought. ‘The only reason Kenneth can’t do more than that is because he's probably holding back at least five liters of piss, it’s not because he’s out of shape…’ He glanced up. “Um, Kenneth? How many sit-ups do you normally do in two minutes? About ninety?”
“Y—Yeah, I think so,” Kenneth said. He couldn’t really do that much thinking at the moment. His brain was waterlogged, constantly pumping thoughts of babbling brooks and trickling streams into him. He tried to remember how he’d performed at previous exams, but all he could remember was how empty his bladder had felt during all of those; How much easier that had made everything.
“Okay,” Bryce said. “So… How about we say you did eighty-four this time?”
Kenneth stared at Bryce for a moment. His hand dropped out of his mouth to press against his crotch as his hips twitched and bucked against the pressure. He gnawed on his lip, but nodded at Bryce. “Wh—Why are you being so nice?”
“Well… If you do TOO terribly on this exam, it’s going to make ME look bad,” Bryce said. “I am the only other person here, no one will know if these results aren’t completely accurate. This can be our secret.”
Kenneth nodded again, twisting and shaking and almost doubling over. He was about to ask Bryce if he could please just make up the results for the REST of the tasks, but Bryce kept talking.
“Paulson… Look at yourself,” Bryce said.
Kenneth had been trying very hard NOT to do that. He’d been trying not to pay attention to how pathetically he was behaving. He’d been trying not to notice how tangled his legs were, how his whole body was trembling, how he was folding over on himself, how his hands were kneading into his crotch, displaying to all the world that he had to pee NOW. “Sh—Shut up, Bryce…”
“I am not saying that to be mean…” Bryce said. “You… You aren’t okay, Paulson.”
Fury filled Kenneth's body with heat, and he momentarily wondered if that saying ‘it made my piss boil’ could actually come true. “I KNOW that! I have to—“
“That’s not what I meant,” Bryce interrupted. He rubbed the back of his neck. He was so bad at having conversations like this. His OWN emotions were annoying enough to deal with, but talking to someone else about THEIRS was like trying to solve calculus equations when he’d only just mastered multiplication. “I mean… You are not the first person who has needed to… ‘go’ during one of these exams. And, when that happens, I just have them use one of the trees. It takes a second. It’s no big deal.”
Kenneth wished Bryce would just be quiet. He wasn’t in the mood to get into a verbal sparring match with the other man. He didn’t understand why Bryce was still trying to provoke him into one, why Bryce was teasing him like this. Kenneth was VERY well aware of how simple peeing was for the rest of the planet. He didn’t need to have his nose rubbed in it. “Stop—“
“I’m not— “ Bryce ran a hand through his hair in agitation. “Look, this… This ‘problem’ of yours. It’s not your fault, I understand that now. I promise, I understand that. I know you have not chosen this, and that it feels… Awful. But, it’s… It’s affecting you a lot. It’s affecting your performance here. It’s affecting your ability to have fun when you get a break. It’s affecting your ability to enjoy spending time out in town with the rest of us. It’s affecting your health. It’s… Affecting every aspect of your life. And it… I’m…” He ducked his head and muttered something to his shoes.
Kenneth forced himself to hobble closer to Bryce. “What?”
“I’m… worriedaboutyou.”
“Wha—“
“I said I’m worried about you!” Bryce shouted. “Jeez, when Elizabeth told me you didn’t piss for a full day, I—“
“She TOLD you!?”
Bryce stopped cold. “She… She wanted me to be aware of your health issues… That’s—“
Kenneth’s eyes started to well up. He was stunned that his body apparently had liquid left in it somewhere other than his bladder. “If you’re going to make fun of m—“
“I’m NOT going to make fun of you! That’s my whole point! I’m worried about you! I’m genuinely, seriously worried about you! This whole exam is supposed to prove to me that you’re in good physical shape, but so far instead of doing that, it’s proven that you’re not in good MENTAL shape at all!”
Kenneth’s tears continued streaming. He begged them to stop. He wanted to use his hands to wipe them away, but he didn’t even want to KNOW how much worse his bladder would feel if he let go of his dick right now. Why was it so easy to make water come out of his eyes when he so badly DIDN’T want it to, but it was impossible to make water come out of his bladder when it was the ONLY thing he wanted?!
Bryce knew immediately that he’d said the wrong thing. “No, don’t cry…” he said. He couldn’t believe he’d ever WANTED to see Kenneth cry. He couldn’t believe he’d ever thought that it would be FUNNY. Now that he’d seen it happen a few times, he knew it was one of the worst things in the world to have to watch. It always made him feel like he’d just set a kitten on fire… “Kenneth, please— I’m just trying to— I didn’t mean to insult you. Not that time, not over this. I promise. I’m just an asshole, not a monster.”
Kenneth’s tears stopped flowing, and he snickered. “Eheh…” He winced. “It huuurrrts…”
“I know…” Bryce said. “Could you… Could you just try?” He felt stupid for asking it. He knew how ‘trying’ usually worked out for Kenneth.
Kenneth shook his head.
Bryce frowned. “Well, we’re running out of time. The last thing you were supposed to do was run a few laps around the field… You’re REALLY fast… I think your record is a little under three minutes? How about this time, I say you did it in two minutes and forty seconds?”
Kenneth nodded. “I… I can’t walk back to the barrack,” he said.
Bryce looked at Kenneth’s pinched in legs and hunched, twitching body and knew he was right. “But… You can’t go out here,” he stated.
Kenneth shook his head.
“I’ll keep watch for you,” Bryce promised.
“I can’t… It’s too…” Kenneth nudged his head slightly, still unable to move his hands. “It’s too open…”
“Let’s just try it,” Bryce said. “You CAN’T walk all the way back like this. You’ve got to get it out here somehow.”
“O—Okay,” Kenneth whimpered. “Stand right behind me, alright? Promise you won’t leave.”
Bryce had the most peculiar surge of warmth flutter through his chest then. It wasn’t too long ago that Kenneth was unable to squeeze out one drop when he was around, but now he was desperate for him to stay and be his guard. “I’ll be right here.”
“No looking?”
‘Kenneth, I don’t WANT to watch you piss…’ Bryce thought. “Of course not,” he said.
Kenneth scrambled at his zipper and got himself out, panic flooding all of his nerves as he took in his barren surroundings. There was no cover. None. None that was, but the little bit of privacy Bryce’s body granted him. “Bryce, promise you’ll stay.” He couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. Bryce was his enemy. Bryce was a jerk. Bryce was his opponent in a never ending war of name-calling and petty pranks. To his bladder though, Bryce was comforting. His bladder wanted Bryce to stay right there and protect him.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Bryce said. “Try and relax.” Nervously, he looked at his watch. Twenty minutes until noon. Twenty minutes for him to get Kenneth to pee and then run as fast as he could to turn in his paperwork. ‘Hurry up, Kenneth… Please?’ he thought, but dared not say aloud. Rushing Kenneth never ended well.
Kenneth made several pained, whimpering noises.
“Kenneth… Do you… I mean, have you got any idea why?”
“Why what?” Kenneth asked. ‘Don’t ask me questions when I’m trying to go!’ he mentally pleaded.
“Why you… Why you HAVE all of this… ‘trouble’?”
“Um… When I was little,” Kenneth began, and Bryce braced himself. He didn’t know too much about Kenneth’s childhood, but what details he was aware of were absolutely horrific. “My Father had these… Rules. He controlled everything I did. He made me go without water for days sometimes. Sleep, too. But, one of the other things he controlled was… When I… When I ‘went’.”
Kenneth shifted on his feet and shuddered. “He… I had to ask permission every time I needed to relieve my bladder. And, most of the time he’d say no, and I would end up… Not being able to wait. When he did say yes, he went with me. The whole time I tried to pee, he was always yelling at me and telling me to hurry. He’d pull my hair too, and just scream. And… Even when I needed to go really bad, I just wouldn’t be able. And then he’d get mad. He’d say I was wasting his time, and he’d hit me and stuff. And eventually… It would come out and I’d go in my clothes.”
“…Jesus, Kenneth,” Bryce breathed. “No wonder— I— I’m so sorry for all the times I made fun of you for this, I didn’t… I just didn’t know. I really thought you were just being a prude or something when you wouldn’t pee outside, I didn’t understand that you seriously couldn’t, and I had no idea WHY. I’m really, really sorry. Could you forgive me?”
“I… Have forgiven you,” Kenneth said. “You’ve helped me…”
Bryce still felt horrible. Every insult he’d ever said to Kenneth about his bladder, every mocking comment, every time he’d teased him when he’d needed to go… “Kenneth, you know what you should do?” Bryce asked. “You should go back to your hometown and take a MASSIVE piss all over your Father’s grave.”
Kenneth’s mind went blank for a second. That was such an intense thing to suggest… Kenneth knew how he should have felt. He should have felt revolted. The idea of standing in a flat cemetery with his dick out, pissing away with little to no cover to hide behind… The idea of his urine flowing uninhibited onto the dirt dumped over his Father’s wretched body. The idea of drenching the man’s final resting place in his piss, of giving him a visceral final ‘fuck you’, of showing him that even if he’d damaged him, Kenneth was still not completely broken.
The image of that did not make him feel revolted at all. It made him feel powerful. It made him feel good. It made him feel really, really good…
His quivering urethra finally gave up its struggle, and a deluge of pee began to hiss into the dirt between his feet. “Ahhhh…” As his stream picked up speed, he imagined that he wasn’t pissing in a barren field with Bryce doing his best to shield him. He was ferociously pissing an enormous, furious stream onto his Father’s grave. And Dwight was there rubbing his back and encouraging him, “Do it, Kenneth. It’s what he deserves.” And Bryce was there too, praising him and telling him how strong he was. “You aren’t weak at all. Your Father was. Only the weak pick on children.”
And Kenneth just kept flooding the grave, and it felt amazing, and his bladder was slowly shrinking down to its proper size, no longer stretching him out, no longer hurting him. He was okay. Everything was okay. Father was being drowned in his piss, and being shown who really deserved all the suffering. Kenneth shivered, unsure if it was from the pleasure of his relief, or from the way his fantasy was making him feel.
Slowly, his stream dwindled and tapered off. He was finally empty, and the world felt brighter. He zipped himself up and sighed. “Ahhh… That’s much better!” And, this time, it wasn’t just his bladder that felt better…
“G—Good job,” Bryce said, hoping it didn’t come across as patronizing. He knew that it was silly for him, a grown man, to praise another grown man for taking a piss. But, he couldn’t help it. He was proud of Kenneth for managing to do that out here. He checked his watch again. “Ah— Oh, I’ve got to go turn these papers in now!” he said, rushing off.
Kenneth stood there for a moment, trying to readjust to how it felt not to be filled up with so much piss, trying to hold onto the feelings his fantasy had given him. |
Bryce was highly suggestible. He didn’t like to admit it, but he was. One only needed to describe the symptoms of Pneumonia to him to make him start feeling ill, and whenever anyone else yawned Bryce was unable to stop himself from doing the same. Once the power of suggestion had been placed into his mind, he was no longer as in control as he’d like to be.
This quirk was even worse when it came to his bladder. A rainstorm during the night could have Bryce up and down to pee so many times he barely got any sleep. Hearing someone pour a drink always got him crossing his legs. Once the sound of running water hit his ears in the shower, he’d be going before he even realized it; Even if it was one of the times he’d ended up needing to shower with other people. He’d gotten more than a few disgusted looks for this habit, and he’d been forced to play it off and pretend he’d released his bladder on purpose, that the water hadn’t just tempted him so much that he couldn’t restrain himself any longer. It hadn’t ever made anyone less repulsed by him ‘choosing’ to release his bladder into the bathing area that everyone was using, but at least he’d maintained the illusion that he could control everything about himself.
However, there was absolutely nothing that was worse on his bladder than hearing someone talk about peeing, listening to someone else go, or hearing a toilet flush. There had been one awful night at the bar where only one urinal was functional in the restroom, and Bryce found himself at the back of a very long line full of bursting men— None of whom, Bryce thought, could have been as desperate to go at the time as he was.
Bryce had had way too much to drink. He was both intoxicated and dying to empty his aching bladder. And the line was hardly moving. Bryce ended up enduring nine layers of Hell that night. The alcohol had dulled some of his senses, but he felt like it had only sharpened his hearing. Every time someone took their turn at the urinal, Bryce swore he heard every drop of their release, every satisfied exhale… When they then flushed the urinal, it felt to Bryce that he was being kicked in the bladder by someone wearing spiked cleats.
Worsening his misery was the fact that Dwight was right ahead of him. Dwight, the person whom could rarely manage to shut the everloving FUCK up when he was desperate for a toilet. Dwight fidgeted around in front of Bryce— Bryce trying very hard to pretend that he wasn’t performing the very same dance— moaning and whimpering the whole time. “Ohhhh, I can’t wait!” he kept whining. “I’m going to burst! Can’t this line move any faster?”
Bryce had ordered him to be silent several times. “You are being rude,” he barked.
“I can’t help it!” Dwight groaned, doubling over on himself. “I have to pee SO bad!”
“EVERYONE here does!” Bryce snapped. “YOU’RE the only one whining about it, though!” He scowled at Dwight. His behavior was utterly undignified for a public space. It was bad enough that he was squirming and jumping around like a toddler, he didn’t have to kick up a fuss like one too! And Dwight didn’t even have the excuse of being DRUNK (which was the excuse Bryce planned to use if anyone brought up his OWN dancing to him at any point) because Dwight didn’t drink alcohol! “Just hold it in!”
Dwight had begun to grip himself between his crossed, contorted legs. “I’m trying!” he moaned. “But, I feel like I’m going to explode!”
Bryce’s frown deepened. Dwight was surely exaggerating. Unless the pressure within his body was exactly at the level of that inside of Bryce’s, he most certainly was NOT exploding.
Bryce, though. Bryce was definitely exploding. He wouldn’t have been surprised if there had been tears beginning to form in the flesh of his abdomen as his bladder tried to rip its way out of him. Bryce didn’t let himself whine though. He didn’t let himself complain and act like as big of a fool as Dwight currently was— Still mashing his palms against his dick and muttering needy chants to himself. “Ohhh… Can’t hold iiiiit… Gotta peeeeee… I can’t waaaaaiiiit….”
Even if Dwight had started to debase himself a little more quietly, Bryce could hear every word of it loud and clear. Dwight’s little mewls mixed in with the sound of each stream striking the urinal, each flush of the fixture, each jet of water that flowed from the sink’s faucet… And it all flowed together, filling up Bryce’s bladder more and more with wave after wave of boiling hot piss…
Finally, there was only one person left ahead of Dwight, and as that man stepped up to the urinal, Dwight’s whispered phrases changed. “I can wait… I can wait… So close… I can wait… Hold it. Hold it. Hold it.”
Behind him, Bryce did his best to convince himself of the same thing. ‘Just wait for Dwight to finish,’ he told his bladder. ‘Then it’s your tun.’ His bladder swelled and convulsed even more as Dwight hurried to the urinal. Bryce clearly heard the other man yank his zipper down, followed by the furious hiss of him releasing a tsunami against the porcelain.
At least Dwight was not as vocal while he peed as he was when he really, REALLY needed to. If Dwight had started moaning and gasping with relief, then Bryce would have lost it for sure. Luckily, instead of a loud sigh, Dwight only released a soft, satisfied hum as his bladder drained itself. “Mmmm….”
Bryce’s grip on his cock tightened as he heard Dwight zipping up, and he practically shoved him out of the way as he stumbled to the urinal— Unsure if he was stumbling because he’d had a few too many beers, or stumbling because… Well, he’d had a few too many beers.
He’d freed himself in record time and unleashed an enormous spray of liquid. And, HE did gasp and moan as it all flowed out of him. He couldn’t help it. He’d suffered so much that night, and he was going to enjoy every last drop of it coming to such a pleasant end.
But, of course, now he’d broken the seal. Now that he’d had one huge piss, more were going to follow in rapid succession. That was what happened to Bryce whenever he had alcohol; That was the one bad thing about bar nights.
And, with how only one toilet was functioning that night, he’d known that meant he had to leave early, unless he wanted to risk NOT making it next time.
There was nothing worse on Bryce’s bladder than having to listen to someone else go.
Except, possibly, for listening to Kenneth go, specifically.
Kenneth’s bladder was enormous, Bryce knew. When he was bursting, he peed for a long, LONG time. When he was bursting, he peed with so much force he’d probably be able to knock someone out if he aimed his stream at their forehead. When he was bursting, his urine came out with such a loud, ear-splitting hiss, gushing and splashing and spraying on and on and on….
And then there were the OTHER sounds he made.
Bryce was POSITIVE Kenneth didn’t even realize he made those other noises. He must have always been so caught up in the euphoric bliss of emptying out liters of water from his body that he lost track of everything else, all of it fading into the background, including what poured out of his mouth.
Because, Bryce was certain that if Kenneth KNEW that he always moaned like he was having the best sex of his life every time he took a leak, he’d be so humiliated he’d want to hide away in an underground bunker for the rest of his existence.
Those sounds Kenneth made… Those gasping, panting, loud moans and unbelievably intense sighs, falling overtop the noise of his massive stream hissing and splattering away… All of that together was WAY too much…
Bryce may have only been present as Kenneth relieved himself a small handful of times, but unless he’d only JUST gone himself it never failed to make him NEED a toilet right away.
When Kenneth had finished up his piss during the fitness exam, Bryce had felt that intense, burning need aching in his own bladder. But, he hadn’t said anything about it. Nor had he decided to make use of the field in the way Kenneth had just done. He NEEDED to get the paperwork turned in right away, and there was absolutely NO time for a pee break first.
The administration building, which was where he needed to bring the paperwork too, was a long walk from the field where the exam took place. Even if Bryce ran, he’d be cutting it close if he hoped to make it there by noon like he was supposed to. His bladder had begun to calm down a little after Kenneth had stopped gushing like that, but as Bryce forced himself to run, the harsh thwacking of his boots against the ground sent heavy bolts of need up through his feet and into his bladder.
To his surprise, Kenneth had not only followed him, but had caught up to him. Kenneth really WAS incredibly fast when he wasn’t weighted down by a painfully full bladder… “Wha—Why are you following me?” Bryce asked, panting.
“I— I wanted to th—thank you again,” Kenneth said. “And we’re hea—headed back the same direction anyway.”
Bryce began to slow. It was exhausting to run like this for so long, and his harsh movements were starting to jostle his bladder around a little too much. There was a restroom in the administration building. A nice big one, with a long trough to use as a urinal. Bryce had always been a little uncomfortable peeing into things like that where everyone had to crowd around with no partitions— He couldn’t even IMAGINE what Kenneth must have thought of it. But now, Bryce fantasized about that trough.
What a marvelous invention it was, cutting down on the amount of time one would need to worry about standing in line if they were desperate. And how wonderful it would be when Bryce made it to that building, flung open the door to the restroom and found the trough waiting there for him to use. It was going to feel so good to stand himself at it, unzip his pants and allow his stream to noisily patter against its metallic material.
Yes. All of that was so good. So nice. So—
Bryce suddenly came to a complete and total stop as he felt urine beading from his tip and into his boxers. He clenched his thighs together and his dribbling ceased. Wow! He hadn’t thought he’d needed to go THAT bad already!
Maybe he needed to stop thinking about the trough. He DEFINITELY needed to stop thinking about USING it.
His bladder really WAS too suggestible. Imagining himself peeing was just too inviting a picture for it to resist.
Kenneth stopped running as well. “Bryce?” he asked. “You okay?”
“F—Fine, Paulson,” Bryce said. No way was he going to admit that he’d just started peeing his pants before he’d even gotten that desperate to go… “Just tired out from running, that’s all.”
They walked a little more slowly then, which was easier on Bryce’s bladder, but also put him at greater risk of reaching the building too late.
It also gave his bladder more time to fill, and before long his need had gone from ‘annoying, but manageable’ to ‘deeply, DEEPLY uncomfortable’.
He checked his watch. He knew he was in no danger of NOT getting to the restroom in time, but he hoped he managed to get to the building with a few minutes to spare so that he could visit the toilet before he had to speak with his superiors. To his dismay, however, he saw that he only had about ten minutes left. Not only was he unlikely to get the opportunity to pee, he was going to need to start running again if he wanted to make it at ALL.
Bryce launched back into a sprint— And his bladder convulsed, warning him that if he kept this up he may ‘not make it’ in a different way. His face started to scrunch up as he ran. His legs were parting from one another too far. He’d been keeping his thighs squeezed together a little bit while he’d been walking, and only realized now exactly how much that had been helping him out. The vibrations of his feet hitting the ground were a terrible tease on his bladder, making it jiggle and crumple and ache.
His body begged him to stop, to just come to a complete, dead stop and cross his legs as he regained his strength. His body told him that he was outside, and so he should just stop, find himself a bush, and give it a little extra watering. But, Bryce didn’t have time to dump his bladder’s contents out into a bush. And, he knew if he stopped running now, he’d have a very difficult time getting himself to move again.
He just had to keep going. One foot after the other. Then he could drop off the paperwork, say a few quick sentences to his superiors, and get himself to that trough as fast as humanly possible.
Kenneth, again, had caught up to him. “Bryce,” he said. “You run really weird, you know that?”
Bryce was sure he really WAS running oddly right now. A few times he’d paused for half a second to jump back and forth between his feet, which surely hadn’t looked normal or natural at all. Still… “Sh—shut up, Paulson. At least I can do a sit-up.”
“I can do that too!” Kenneth snapped back. “YOU try doing that when your bladder’s going to explode!”
Bryce bit back his next retort, which would have involved him admitting that he was currently trying to RUN with an uncomfortably full bladder.
It didn’t matter anyway, they’d made it to the administration building. Bryce gave a short, half glance to the bushes that surrounded it. ‘Some of the leaves look a little brown…’ he thought. ‘There HAS been a bit of a drought lately…’ Tempting… Tempting… Maybe—
He looked at his watch and his eyes widened.
It was 12:01.
He was a minute late already!
The bushes would have to survive without his help.
Hopefully, his bladder could do the same.
He pushed open the door, and was a little surprised when Kenneth followed him inside. Kenneth gestured to the door that led to the men’s room— The door that Bryce’s bladder was begging him to go through.
“I should wash my hands,” Kenneth said. “Since… Since I just… I should just wash my hands,” he repeated, entering the room.
As the door swung shut behind Kenneth, Bryce not only saw the trough clear as day, but the stall as well. And the door to the stall was wide open, the toilet clearly visible. Even though Bryce had only been subjected to the view for a couple seconds, the sight of TWO places in which he could empty himself of his burden made his bladder quiver and his urethra pulse with need.
His bladder could not grasp why he wasn’t taking it into that room. His bladder could not understand why he was instead dragging it to a door in the complete opposite direction. Bryce opened the door to the office. His superior was facing away from him in his chair.
“You’re late,” he said derisively.
“By a minute…” Bryce replied meekly. He knew it did not matter. His superiors were always very strict with him, they did not allow for any mistakes of any kind.
“That does not matter,” The chair turned around. “We expect you to— Oh, hello Bryce!”
Bryce’s eyes widened with equal parts shock and dismay, and a few more little dribbles of urine squirted into his boxers. His leak had not been caused by desperation; It had been caused by complete and utter fear. “K—Karl? What are you doing here?”
“Got transferred here last week,” Karl said.
This was bad. This was very bad. Not only was Karl HERE, in a place Bryce had been certain he’d always be free of him, but he was also now in CHARGE of Bryce. He was now in a position of authority over him. He could now make decisions that would impact Bryce’s life every single day. He could now make Bryce do just about anything…
“H—Here’s the paperwork,” Bryce said, dropping the pages onto Karl’s desk. “I’m sorry it is late.” He’d never understood the phrase ‘butterflies in your stomach’ before, but he did now. He felt a swirling maelstrom of them in his gut, and they were all speedily moving lower and lower, pressing into his bladder. The pressure and urgency he was under was building up very, very quickly now. He swore he could feel more pee sloshing into his bladder with every second. He had to go! He had to get away from Karl. He had to get to the trough— Or into the stall, where he’d be able to lock the door and keep Karl out. He turned back around to leave.
Karl made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat. “Where are you going?” he asked.
“I— I just thought—“ Bryce stammered. “Did you need anything else?”
“A few things,” Karl said. “Sit down.”
Bryce did as he was told, hating himself for it. Hating himself SO much for it. He was always more agreeable towards his superiors than he was with those beneath him, but this wasn’t simply a desire to do his job as required. This was him once again folding immediately to Karl’s whims, just as he had as a child.
It was like that day at the farm with the tea had never even happened. Once again, Karl was the master and Bryce was his docile, obedient servant.
The day at the farm with the tea, as it turned out, was exactly what Karl wanted to discuss. “You DO know it’s wrong to DRUG one of your superiors, do you not?”
“… You… You weren’t my superior then,” Bryce answered softly. His knees bounced up and down and up and down… He kept thinking back to that day, the sound of Kenneth gushing and moaning inside the outhouse, the sight of Karl expelling a forceful stream into his pants… The relief Bryce had been able to get himself inside of that outhouse once Kenneth had finished… He tensed his thighs. “And.. We didn’t drug you,” he added. “It was tea. Nothing dangerous.”
Karl smiled a deplorable, smarmy looking grin. “Ah, Bryce. I am ALWAYS your superior,” he said. “I’ve been your superior since the day we met. Nothing you can say or do will ever change that. You could become the next leader of this country, and I would still be above you.”
Bryce wondered how long ago Karl had prepared that little speech. Probably from the moment he found out he’d been placed in a position of authority over him… Bryce was doing his best not to squirm under Karl’s gaze, but it was hard not to. Just the sight of Karl’s face made Bryce feel scared, and his bladder was beginning to sear against his belt— Oh, how nice it would feel to loosen it! But, such an action would surely not go unnoticed by Karl.
“The three of you plotted a scheme for the sole purpose of humiliating me,” Karl said. “Why?”
‘Because you’re a jerk,’ Bryce thought. ‘Because you punched me when we were stuck in an elevator and made me pee my pants.’ He tried to speak; “It was a juvenile prank,” he said. “And, I’m sorry.” He didn’t mean a word of it. He’d love to watch Karl piss his pants a thousand times. It wouldn’t ever get old.
“Hm,” Karl said. “I hope you are. But, just to be sure, I’m going to MAKE you sorry.” He glanced down at the paperwork on his desk, he looked through it for half a second. “Why is this so late, anyway?”
“Paulson broke his foot,” Bryce said, trying to keep any upset from his voice. He had no idea how Karl intended to ‘make’ him sorry, but he knew it would be something awful. “It’s only just healed.”
“Ah,” Karl said. “So, you are so poor at your job that your subordinates regularly incapacitate themselves?”
“I— I had nothing to do with it,” Bryce said. “The tree limb broke, no one could have—“
Karl set the papers aside, “He at least passed the exam,” he said. “I’ll give you that much.” He stood from his desk. “Up,” he ordered.
“Wha—What are we going to do?” Bryce asked wearily.
“That is none of your concern right now,” Karl said.
Bryce forced himself up, his bladder protesting as he made himself stand up ramrod straight. He was determined to at least TRY and look like he wasn’t intimidated, no matter what his bladder had to say about it. Still, he couldn’t keep the bouncing out of his feet.
Karl’s eyes flicked down to them. “Come,” he said, pushing open the door.
Bryce followed him out. He stared at the door leading to the men’s room and actually patted a hand over his bladder in apology at the sight of it, as he knew he would most likely NOT be using it any time soon.
He should have just gone in there before he went to the office. He should have pissed onto a bush. He should have peed in the field after Kenneth had finished… If he’d known that Karl was the one waiting for him, if he’d known that even if he’d managed to turn the paperwork in early he would still be made to suffer… If he’d known all that, he would have peed first.
There was nothing for it now, though.
Karl paused for a moment, and Bryce was about to work up the nerve to say that he needed to use the toilet before they did whatever they were about to do, but Karl didn’t give him the chance. “Go wait outside,” he barked.
And Bryce obeyed. He always obeyed Karl.
He stood outside the building. Kenneth had waited for him there. “How did it go?” he asked. “Were they mad you were late?”
Bryce said nothing. The leaves of the bushes were still brown. They still needed to be watered, and by God could Bryce water the FUCK out of those things right about now… ‘Go,’ he told himself. ‘Quickly, before he comes out here.’ He turned to the bushes.
Kenneth was confused when Bryce turned around. “Bryce, are you mad at m—“
Bryce’s hand swooped up to his buttons.
“—Oh,” Kenneth said. “Why didn’t you just—“
Before Kenneth could finish speaking, and just after Bryce had parted the first button, the door swung open and there was Karl.
Bryce stopped trying. He had to hold it now. He had no choice.
Then he saw what Karl was holding; Three enormous jugs of water.
And then he knew exactly what was coming.
What was coming was a specific disciplinary drill they sometimes did. Bryce was going to have to march up and down a short distance, and he was going to have to chug a lot of water. Ostensibly, the water was meant to keep the person doing the drill well hydrated. But, everyone knew that was not the real purpose. Everyone knew what the true intent of this drill was. Bryce knew it well because, so, so many months ago, he’d done a similar thing to Kenneth when he’d turned up late. He’d made him drink a big jug of water before having him stand guard all day. And then, in an act he’d come to so deeply regret, he’d made fun of Kenneth when he’d begun to dance with need. He’d made of Kenneth when he’d been unable to release his bladder in front of him at his post. And he’d only barely given in when Dwight offered to take Kenneth’s place for a few minutes while Kenneth relieved himself in private.
Maybe, Bryce thought, maybe this was karma. He’d believed he’d made up for his cruel actions towards Kenneth in regards to peeing, but perhaps God or whoever it was up there saw it differently.
The purpose of this particular disciplinary drill was one thing and one thing only; Desperation, and a whole Hell of a lot of it. During his training, he’d seen it administered a few times, had seen very strong men succumb to their full bladders and soak themselves as they tried to march. Dwight had told him that, when HE’D been in training, he’d been made to endure it once after he’d put a thumbtack into someone’s boot as a joke. Dwight had said he’d only made it out dry because it suddenly began to hail; Everyone had needed to go inside, and since no one wanted a puddle indoors, Dwight was permitted access to the toilet which he accepted VERY gratefully.
Bryce remembered Kenneth once saying that, during training, he’d been on his best behavior at all times and had NEVER pulled any of the pranks he was now known for. Bryce had asked him why, and hadn’t been too shocked to learn that Kenneth’s deep need to avoid THIS was the reason.
Bryce had never seen nor heard of anyone being subjected to this particular punishment when they were ALREADY desperate for a piss. “K—Karl,” he said. “I need— I need to— I need to— I need—“
“Bryce needs to relieve himself first,” Kenneth filled in for him.
“Well, he’s not going to,” Karl said. “And, by the way; YOU’RE doing this tomorrow. Don’t think for a second I forgot YOUR part in that fiasco at the farm.”
Kenneth’s heart stopped. It just. Stopped beating. Completely. When he’d restrained himself from joking around and pranking anyone during his training, it had ONLY been because he NEEDED to avoid being subjected to this. Everyone he’d seen go through it ended up peeing on themselves, everyone but Dwight and only because his punishment ended up getting cut short.
But, Kenneth couldn’t wet himself in front of other people. He KNEW he couldn’t. He’d felt that agonizing, ripping and tearing sensation up and down his back enough times to know that. Rather than pee himself, he would instead HURT himself. He would hurt himself EXTREMELY badly. If Karl did this to him, he wouldn’t end up needing the bathroom really badly and then having a very embarrassing accident; He would end up in the medical building.
Bryce momentarily actually forgot about his own need and about his own awful situation. “K—Karl,” he said. His voice was shaking, and he tried to make it stop. Kenneth was a stupid, annoying little pissant. But, he was Bryce’s, stupid, annoying little pissant. He may have enjoyed pulling some pretty mean jokes on him, but he didn’t want to see the guy get hospitalized. “You CAN’T do this to Kenneth. You literally CAN’T. Just… Just do it to ME twice, okay? I’ll do this again tomorrow!”
Kenneth’s heart rate started to return to normal, and he was stunned at Bryce’s words. At his willingness to sacrifice for him.
Karl, however, upon seeing how animated Bryce got at the idea of Kenneth being pushed through this, smiled. “Why not? Is he your boyfriend?”
“No!” Bryce exclaimed. “But, he has… He has… Talk… Talk to the people in the medical building. Kenneth has a condition, and you really, really CAN’T do this to him.”
Kenneth felt even more warmth towards Bryce when he chose NOT to name Kenneth’s problem, to instead only indicate that it was something medical and outside of his control. He made up his mind then that he was going to do SOMETHING to rescue Bryce from Karl’s torment today.
“I don’t care WHAT he has,” Karl said. “He’s going to do as I say.”
Bryce backed up, closer to Kenneth now. He whispered, “I’ll… After this, I’ll get Elizabeth,” he promised. “She won’t allow this for you, and he’ll HAVE to listen to her about this.”
Before, Kenneth had felt betrayed that Elizabeth had apparently told Bryce about the awful day where he’d locked up so completely for so long… But, if she hadn’t, maybe Bryce wouldn’t have known to get her. Bryce wouldn’t have known that she was the only person that could save him. “Thank you…”
“Will you two stop whispering?” Karl ordered. “It’s time to start, Bryce. Drink your fucking water.”
Bryce slowly stumbled over to Karl, whom thrusted the first jug at him. It was only then that Bryce realized he was already clutching himself, and would need to let go in order to drink the water. At least, he thought, this was sure to be over quickly. He’d pee his pants very soon. The new water he was being made to ingest now probably wouldn’t even make it to his bladder before he burst and sprayed his urine out everywhere. He uncapped the jug and brought it to his lips.
“Drink,” Karl commanded.
And Bryce did. His body protested every gulp. His belly ached as it grew full and the world started to spin and look more and more off-kilter. He felt engorged all over. He felt like he was more liquid than human. Bryce had always had a very, very sensitive stomach. If he was dizzy, if he was super nervous, if he was too full and ate just one bite too many or consumed anything with dairy in it, it was extremely likely that he would vomit.
His stomach now was stretched out, struggling to contain more than it was meant to, and he also felt deeply anxious and scared. Liquid wanted to come out of him in both directions now and he squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to will the contents of his bladder and stomach to stay where they were. ‘Maybe it won’t be so bad if I throw up on him,’ he thought. ‘He would deserve it…’
But, after a moment the nausea faded, and everything had stayed down. His bladder was still closed shut as well. He was holding it all. It was all staying inside where it was supposed to.
Unaware of how close he’d just come to having Bryce make a big mess all over his boots, Karl grinned; “March,” he ordered.
And Bryce did. With every step he was actually able to HEAR the water as it sloshed around inside his belly. And, again, his bladder seized on the noise of liquid. Even when it was something coming from inside of his own body, the sound of water was too enticing and it made Bryce’s need ramp up until he felt like his urine was dangling off the very edge of his rapidly fraying control.
Kenneth watched, his heart aching for Bryce. For Bryce. For. Bryce. What in the Hell was wrong with him?! The last thing he should ever feel for Bryce was pity, but that was literally ALL he could feel right now. What was happening to Bryce now was cruel and inhumane, and it was… It was… It was…
Kenneth felt himself tumbling backwards. Not physically; Physically he was still standing perfectly still and watching. But, inside himself, inside his brain, he was falling. He was falling back and back and back… Back to a time and place that now only existed inside his worst nightmares.
Father had done this to him. He’d done this very same thing to him numerous times. And, the worst part was, Kenneth would prefer it to what the alternative was.
When this happened, Kenneth would displease Father in some way, and Father would actually think out loud to him, trying to decide upon which form of water torture was most appropriate for his misdeed. Kenneth had no idea why his water intake and output was something Father had fixated on so severely, but it WAS.
Sometimes, Father banned Kenneth from drinking for a couple days. Kenneth would become incredibly sick and weak by the time the punishment ended. The corners of his eyes would ache from the lack of moisture left in his body. He would lose his ability to speak as his throat closed in. The only thing that was worse than having gallons of liquid screaming to exit his body was the feeling of having NO liquid in it whatsoever.
And so, Kenneth was actually relieved when Father settled upon the other form of agony. The one where he gave Kenneth a lot to drink; too much, in fact. And then locked the door to the bathroom before having him walk in circles around the living room. Eventually, Father would fall asleep, and Kenneth would wet his pants. When Father awoke, it would be to administer a beating upon seeing the puddle left on the floor.
He remembered, several times when Father had played this game, he’d shouted at him, “MARCH! KEEP MARCHING! NOW!”
Just like what Karl was currently doing to Bryce.
Kenneth was having some new feelings now. Completely new. His palms were itching, his fingers were twitching, his spine was jolting. He felt like he was outside of his body and inside of it at the same time. His thoughts were nothing but jumbled and tangled pieces of static, and he felt like tight, constricting ropes were being pulled taut across his chest. He felt cold all the way down to his bones, but at the same time he had broken out in an intense sweat.
Bryce was too caught up in his own Hell to notice anything was going on with Kenneth. The only things that existed anymore were his legs and his bladder. He put one foot in front of the other, awkwardly contorting and stumbling every step of the way. No matter how much he clenched his thighs, no matter how tightly he dug his hands into his groin, no matter how often he stopped to cross his legs and beg his body to please, please, please hold on… Bryce was still leaking. And he was leaking a lot. Every second, there was another drip that slid through his urethra. His boxers had begun to cling to him, wet warmth encasing his length. The sensation felt strangely taunting, seeming to coax out more and more liquid from his bloated, over-full bladder.
Bryce did not merely need to pee anymore. What he felt now was some strange, alien sensation which the word ‘need’ could no longer encompass. There was not a word that existed in any language that could adequately sum up the fiery, boiling Hell currently rippling through Bryce’s abdomen. To actually describe it, Bryce thought, he would need to invent a completely new language. One based only on pain, suffering and agony.
He didn’t realize that more liquid had begun to escape him until he heard Karl laugh. “Oh my God!” the man chortled. “Are you— Are you CRYING?! Again!?” He cackled. “God, Bryce! You’re still that pathetic, little baby I went to school with, aren’t you?!”
Bryce blinked his eyes a few times, noticing the cloudy, fuzzy spots that had appeared on his glasses. He WAS crying. He was crying like a pathetic, little baby. He was crying like a pathetic, little baby all because he had to go pee and someone else was being mean to him. Karl was right. He hadn’t changed. He hadn’t grown up. And Karl would always be above him, would always be better, would always be stronger…
“Waaaah,” Karl mocked as Bryce’s tears grew in intensity. “Keep moving.”
Bryce hadn’t noticed he’d stopped, and forced himself forwards again. He wanted to just give up, to let his bladder go and flood his pants. It was going to happen anyway, and he wished he could just hurry up and do it so that this could be over at last. But, that stubborn part of his brain could never be vanquished, not even by Karl. And, that part told him to keep moving, to keep fighting, to keep trying. That part told him that, if he worked hard enough, he could overcome this somehow.
“Faster! March FASTER, you little shit!”
The bands around Kenneth’s chest grew tighter when he heard that.
***
“Faster! March FASTER, you little shit!” Father shouted from his spot on the sofa.
“Please!?” Kenneth begged, limping along through the living room, hands crammed between his quivering thighs. “Please, I can’t hold it! I need to go! Please, let me use the toilet!”
“NO!” Father barked. “Stop fucking asking me that! Every time you ask, that’s one more hour you have to wait!”
“Nnnnhhh!” Kenneth cried, crumpling to his knees and doubling over. “How much longer!?”
“Well, you just added ANOTHER hour, so you’re up to sixteen now!” Father said.
“I caaaan’t!” Kenneth sobbed. His eyes were red and they stung from all the tears. “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!”
“I don’t care,” Father said. “Stop fucking whining. Or I’ll piss in your face.”
And Kenneth knew that Father would, because he’d done it before, so he tried to silence his tears. But, they kept coming. They continued to stream down his cheeks, and soon another stream was gushing out beneath him.
“God dammit!” Father shouted, jumping to his feet. “When the FUCK are you going to learn to control yourself?”
Kenneth tightened every part of his body, readying himself for the hits that were sure to come now.
***
“When the FUCK are you going to learn to control yourself?” Karl was shouting at Bryce.
Kenneth’s eyelids fluttered, blinking rapidly as the world around him twisted and turned and finally began to turn back to normal. What the Hell just happened? It was like he’d had a nightmare, but… Without being asleep? What?
And just like when he woke from a nightmare, his heart was continuing to pound and thrum away in his chest. But, unlike when he woke from a nightmare, he did not feel any relief that it had just been a dream and was over now. Because, it HADN’T been a dream. Dreams didn’t happen to people when they were wide awake. Or, at least, they weren’t SUPPOSED to. So that couldn’t have been a dream, but then what HAD it been? And how did he make sure that it didn’t ever happen again?
Karl was still yelling, and Bryce was still stumbling back and forth in front of him. Just like Kenneth had done for his Father so many times. Just like— Just like—
“Let him go!” Kenneth exclaimed suddenly, hating the tremors and cracks happening in his voice. He hadn’t even known he was going to say that. He’d wished so hard growing up that there could have been someone around that would yell those words at Father. His Mother had been that person for a while, but then she was gone and there was no one left to do it. Mother may not have been around then to defend Kenneth, but Kenneth WAS around now to defend Bryce. “You are hurting him!”
“I’m not hurting him,” Karl said. “I’m teaching him.”
And THAT was what Father had always said to. THAT was how Father liked to justify himself. He had been ‘teaching’ Kenneth. Kenneth would never ‘learn’ without pain. But, he hadn’t taught Kenneth anything. Or, at least, not anything GOOD. He’d taught Kenneth to hate. He’d taught Kenneth to fear. He’d taught Kenneth that life was Hell. He’d taught Kenneth that people were all terrible; Everyone in Kenneth’s hometown had KNOWN. They’d all been well aware of what was happening inside Kenneth’s house. They’d all known that his Father was a monster. But did any of them do anything? No. Nobody ever helped, not even the policemen, not even when Kenneth told them everything and begged them to help.
Dwight was the only person that cared, but he was just a child himself; The person with the least ability to save Kenneth was the only one that actually wanted to do it.
Kenneth wanted to save Bryce now, and he was no longer just a child. In that moment, he wanted to be the kind of adult he’d desperately needed as a child, the kind that saw someone being abused and made it STOP instead of ignoring it. Because, what Karl was doing now WAS abuse. He was using the position of authority he now had over Bryce to cause him physical and emotional pain. There wasn’t any word that could describe that OTHER than abuse.
“Knock it off!” Kenneth shouted. “This is wrong. Just let him go! He has learned his lesson!”
Bryce was no longer able to keep walking, only managing tiny half-steps that didn’t lead him anywhere. He was crying more than ever, and he didn’t even care anymore. All the aches and pains in his body were too intense for him to even remember he should want to have a little bit of dignity. “I— I’m sorry,” he struggled.
Karl threw his hands up. “Alright,” he said, sounding as if this was a huge burden. “Bryce, you can go here.”
Bryce stopped trying to walk and froze. “Wh—What?” he asked. He couldn’t have possibly heard that right, could he? It was over? He could… He could pee?
“Now,” Karl barked. “Don’t dawdle, or I might take it back.”
Kenneth’s spine stiffened up more as Karl snapped at Bryce, but he told himself it was over. Bryce was going to pee. Then Bryce would be okay. Then they could leave Karl. Then these feelings in Kenneth’s mind and body would go away.
Bryce unzipped himself, and aimed right between his feet. He would have preferred at least heading to one of the bushes for a little bit of cover, he felt pretty gross having his cock in his hands right out in the open like this. But, he couldn’t care TOO much. He was going to pee! He was finally, finally going to pee!
And then, Karl stood directly behind him. And he continued to yell. “Hurry up! Do it now! I’ve wasted half the day with you already!”
And, for the third time in Bryce’s life, he found that in spite of a painful level of desperation, he could not let go of his bladder. Panic dug itself deep into his veins as it sunk in; He couldn’t go with Karl shouting at him. “I— I—“
“What’s the matter, you little shit?” Karl said, somehow managing to sound angry and amused at the same time. “Is it hard to go with me here? Am I BOTHERING you, princess?”
“Please…” Bryce begged, he bore down very hard on his pelvic muscles; so hard that it HURT. His sphincters were BURNING from the force being exerted upon them, his stomach ache from the weight inside… “I— I have to— So bad—“
“Then hurry up and piss!” Karl snapped. “Stop crying about it and go.”
***
“Stop crying about it and go!” Father bellowed from behind Kenneth’s small, frightened body.
“I’m tr—trying!” Kenneth whimpered, staring at the toilet; Staring at his salvation… His bladder remained welded shut, though.
“Are you?” Father asked. “If that’s true then I guess you DON’T need to go that badly.”
“I DO!” Kenneth cried. He hadn’t peed in so long! His insides felt like they were going to come apart! “I need to! Can’t hold it!”
“Then why don’t you just fucking piss?”
Kenneth was shaking like a fragile leaf, he kept staring at the toilet, kept focusing, kept begging his body to do what he needed it to.
“God! You’re fucking pathetic!” Father exclaimed. “What the Hell is wrong with you!?”
***
“God! You’re fucking pathetic!” Karl shouted at Bryce. “What the Hell is wrong with you!?”
“Please,” Bryce kept chanting, like it was the only word he could still remember how to say. “Please, please, please…”
Kenneth was half crumpled over on himself, tears streaming as his heart thunked and his body twitched. That… Dreaming-without-dreaming thing. It had happened AGAIN. What was WRONG with him?!
And then, something in him broke. Heat rushed into his veins, and an agitated, boiling energy flooded his body, making him feel like he was spontaneously catching fire.
It was a familiar sensation, but not one Kenneth enjoyed.
He particularly hated what usually followed it.
This was the other side of Kenneth. The side he tried to fight away as much as he could. The little, rage-filled demon that sometimes overtook his body and caused him to lash out in all sorts of ways. Sometimes, the fits that Kenneth’s anger-demon would cause would be a little funny; When he simply launched into a massive rant, hissing and spitting with fury as he said ridiculous things and made outrageous threats, then Bryce couldn’t help but laugh. He was all bluster, and he only ended up looking like an overgrown toddler with an unusually wide vocabulary throwing a temper tantrum.
But, there were other times when the anger-demon wasn’t funny at all. There were times when it was frightening. Times when it made Kenneth break things or lash out.
Because, one more thing Kenneth’s Father had taught him was that violence solved problems.
When this happened, Kenneth’s demon was scary; And it was actually scarier to Kenneth than it was to anyone else. The fact that this… thing could take him over, could make him do things he didn’t really want to do, could make him erupt and destroy… The fact that this thing seemed to be pushing him towards becoming his Father…
He tried to control it. He really, REALLY did. Every time he lost it, every time he blew up and punched someone or broke something, there would be a blanket of shame falling over him as the anger fled. He hated it. He hated it so, so much. He would immediately go somewhere to be alone, repeating to himself ‘Stop this. Don’t. Don’t become him. Please, don’t become him.’
Dwight would usually find him soon enough. And Kenneth would cling to him, sobbing; “Don’t let me turn into him!”
And Dwight would just hold him and whisper to him that it was okay. That, whatever item he’d broken could usually be fixed, that if it couldn’t be repaired, he could pay to have it replaced, and that he could always say ‘sorry’ to whoever the owner was and they may be able to forgive him. “You’re not turning into him,” Dwight would repeat. “If you were, you wouldn’t still be trying to keep this under control.”
And, Kenneth DID try to keep it under control. He tried very, VERY hard. He was STILL trying to keep it under control as he stomped over to Karl. He was STILL trying not to explode. Memories and shadows swirled around him, making his pulse race more and more, but he was STILL trying as hard as he could.
And then, he made himself stop.
He knew what would happen if he got too close to Karl.
And he knew what would happen if he slammed his fist against the face of a superior.
He could not be here anymore. Bad things were going to happen if he stayed here.
He remembered something Bryce had said. “After this, I’ll get Elizabeth. She won’t allow this for you, and he’ll HAVE to listen to her about this.”
Karl was doing harm to Bryce’s body right now. Elizabeth was a medic. If SHE said Bryce was being hurt and that this needed to stop, Karl would have no choice but to listen.
The medical building was very close. And Kenneth was of course very, very fast. Especially when the anger-demon had taken him over, filling his body with fire and adrenaline. He broke into a sprint and before he knew it, he was inside the building. “Elizabeth!” he shouted.
Elizabeth came out of one of the rooms, a very concerned look on her face. “Kenneth? Is your foot still—“
“You have to come with me!” Kenneth interrupted, his breaths coming out in heavy, choking gasps. “I think Karl is gonna make Bryce sick!”
Elizabeth kept staring. Kenneth’s face was scorched pink, his eyes were wild, his chest was heaving and his body trembling. “Kenneth, you look VERY unwell, what’s—“
“I’m FINE!” Kenneth snapped, even though he didn’t think he’d ever felt FURTHER from fine in his life. “Bryce needs help! Karl is doing that disciplinary thing where you have to drink all the water, and I think now Bryce is so stressed out he can’t pee at all, and that’s going to make him sick, and—“
Elizabeth frowned. She had never approved of that drill at all. Restraining one’s bladder to such an extreme degree could lead to all sorts of problems. She was still worried about what had happened to Kenneth to make him… look… that way, but could tell Bryce needed help first. She gathered that Bryce had apparently locked up in the way Kenneth had when he’d gotten his infection, and if that was the case the last thing he needed was to have one of his superiors shouting orders at him.
She followed Kenneth back out to where Bryce and Karl were. Bryce was still unzipped, still trying to urinate. Karl was still shouting at him and making fun of him. The sight of it made the flaming heat in Kenneth’s body build in intensity and he clenched his hands into fists as he tried to remember to breathe.
Bryce had seen Kenneth leave and had thought nothing of it. He’d been too desperate and too upset to notice how frazzled Kenneth had suddenly gotten before sprinting off. He saw Kenneth return now, and he DID think something of it. He’d brought Elizabeth. He’d brought a woman— And one that Bryce REALLY liked, at that! And there Bryce was, his dick in his hand unable to piss, crying as a bigger, stronger man shouted at him.
He’d thought Karl had broken him so thoroughly this afternoon that he could no longer feel shame and humiliation. But, he’d been mistaken. He felt nothing BUT that now. It overpowered even his desperation.
“Karl,” Elizabeth said. “Come here, I need to discuss this with you.”
And Karl obeyed, because even if he was in charge of Bryce now, he was still required to listen to what the medics had to say in regards to his subordinates.
Kenneth stood there, listening for a few seconds as Elizabeth informed Karl of all the complications that could befall Bryce from having his body mistreated in this way. He stood there, remembering how back when he’d had a Mother, she’d told Father a few times that keeping Kenneth from peeing could end up making him sick. Elizabeth actually kind of looked like his Mother… And when he thought about that, some of the heat inside of him started to cool down.
He looked away from her and back towards Bryce. Bryce was still trembling, still bouncing on his feet, still obviously holding back and dying to go… Kenneth walked over to him. “Bryce?” he asked. “Karl is busy now, and Elizabeth’s not going to let him keep doing this… You can go.”
Bryce already knew that he could finally go now. He had been TRYING to do that ever since Karl had walked away from him! But… Elizabeth was here. She was within earshot! She’d hear every splash, every moan of relief that he couldn’t hold back… And from where she was she’d at least be able to see the dirt between Bryce’s feet darken as he expelled his burden into it.
He remembered the time she’d come into the men’s room to ask him something important while he’d been using the urinal. How his stream had ceased and wouldn’t start again until after she’d left. That was the only other time he’d tried to urinate with a woman near him, and he’d been unable to do it. Now that he thought about it, he remembered that even as a kid, he didn’t like to use the restroom at home if his mom was in the adjacent room. With his dad or with other boys, it was always okay. But, with his mom or a girl…
“Bryce…?” Kenneth asked softly, taking the space Karl had occupied moments before and standing behind him. “Are you alright?”
“…Elizabeth’s here…” Bryce mumbled out. He couldn’t believe he felt so awkward trying to explain his present dilemma to Kenneth of all people!
“Yes,” Kenneth said. “She’s telling Karl why he shouldn’t—“
“She’s… I… I don’t… I shouldn’t…” Bryce stammered. His voice was creaking. The tears hadn’t stopped. Even without Karl shouting at him, the physical turmoil taking place inside his body was so extreme that he couldn’t stop crying. “Not in front of a woman…”
“Hey,” Kenneth said, standing up on the tips of his toes so he could shield the taller man a little easier. “You’re not doing it in front of her, I’m blocking her view now.”
Bryce tried to tell himself that it was okay, that Elizabeth was a DOCTOR and probably saw people go all the time, so she wouldn’t even care if he did it here. He tried to tell himself that Kenneth was here, covering him up. But, he couldn’t stop thinking about how small Kenneth was compared to him, how his body didn’t give him very much protection. How— “Oh, sweet Christ!!” Bryce suddenly exclaimed, and his body doubled over.
“Bryce?” Kenneth asked. “What’s wrong?”
Bryce didn’t KNOW what was wrong. Just that he was currently feeling the worst pain he had EVER felt in his entire freaking life! It felt like he’d just been shot in the back, just below his ribs, an explosion of agonizing pressure that left him sobbing. “I— I don’t— It hurts, Kenneth!”
Kenneth reached and began to rub Bryce’s shoulders. He had a suspicion he knew what Bryce was feeling now— It was something he’d felt himself so many times after all. “Relax,” he said. “Let it out.”
“I can’t!”
“You can do it,” Kenneth encouraged, helping Bryce stand up a little straighter again. “Hey, you know what would be REALLY funny?”
Bryce was in absolutely NO mood to laugh right now. His body hurt so bad he thought he was about to keel over and die.
Kenneth continued anyway, “It would be REALLY funny if you pissed in Karl’s boots after he takes them off…”
Bryce didn’t understand what the Hell Kenneth was on about. If Bryce pissed in Karl’s boots he’d face some pretty serious reprimands. But, at least his bladder would be empty… They had to wear pretty long boots, but Bryce felt like he could fill both of them up to the very top right now…
“Yeah,” Kenneth said. “It would be funny if, while he is sleeping, you snuck in and filled up his boots.”
Bryce pictured himself doing that, unzipping and releasing his pent-up pee into that jerk’s footwear. His pee would gently splash against itself as it filled them up, he’d have to restrain it a little so the noise wouldn’t wake Karl up. And he’d absolutely have to keep himself from moaning. But… Wow would that feel good. To get relief AND revenge? That would be amazing.
“And then he’ll get up, and it will still be dark out so he won’t notice until he puts his foot in!” Kenneth added.
And Bryce laughed. He laughed! And the action shook his bladder so much, made it spasm and cramp and… And release. It made it RELEASE. He was peeing! His stream was coming out weak, but it was finally coming out! He was peeing! Finally! His urine trickled smoothly into the dirt with a soft pattering sound, and tension flooded out with it. “Ahhhh…” he moaned, body going slack.
Bryce seemed to have completely forgotten that he was standing up and therefor had to keep his feet on the ground, because he tumbled back against Kenneth as he sighed and panted. Kenneth held onto him tightly. “L—Legs, Bryce,” he mumbled. “Remember your legs…”
Bryce didn’t hear though, he just kept gushing away as Kenneth kept him propped mostly upright. “Haaahhh…” He watched as his urine jetted out of him, as clear as could be. Karl had over-hydrated him to such an extent that he was basically letting out nothing but warm water. It kept coming and coming, pleasant, relaxing shivers overtaking him. The agony in his back had vanished the second he’d started going, making a big, dopey grin spread across his face.
It had never, in all his life, felt THIS good to pee…
When he was finally all dried out, he just stayed there, sagging against Kenneth, trying to remember where he even was.
“Um… Bryce?” Kenneth asked finally. “You done?”
Bryce snapped back to reality and realized that he was laying against freaking Kenneth and his cock was still out… He scrambled up and zipped his pants. “Y—Yes,” he said. Then, reluctantly, he added “Thank you…”
“You’re welcome,” Kenneth said. “Heh. I came THIIIIS close to punching Karl, you know?”
“That wouldn’t have been so bad,” Bryce said.
“I would have gotten into a lot of trouble,” Kenneth pointed out. “That’s why I got Elizabeth instead.”
Elizabeth.
Right.
She’d been here through all of… that.
Bryce covered his face with his hands, “Oh my God… I did that with her here!”
“She’s a doctor,” Kenneth reminded. “She’s probably seen things that are a lot grosser than you peeing for a couple minutes.”
Had he really been going for THAT long?!
He wearily looked over to where Elizabeth was. She was waving off Karl as he went back into the administration building. And then, she came over to him and Kenneth. “Bryce,” she said. “Are you alright?”
Bryce chewed on his lip and looked down at his feet.
“I think he’s better now,” Kenneth said.
“You did not experience any pain while you were urinating, did you?” Elizabeth asked.
Bryce still struggled to find his voice, but unlike before, Kenneth could not answer for him. “N—No,” he said. “It… It felt… Normal…”
“What about before you started?” Elizabeth asked. “Did you have pain in your back or pelvic area?”
‘Oh… Oh my God…’ Bryce thought miserably. “Y…Yes…” he admitted, wishing that the dirt beneath him would come to life and devour him whole. “There was… A lot of pain when I was… Holding.”
“If you are still feeling sore tomorrow, come see me,” Elizabeth said. She turned to Kenneth, the crazed look in his eyes and the red hue to his face wasn’t there anymore, but she was still concerned. “Kenneth, have you been feeling alright today?”
“I… I got angry earlier,” Kenneth said.
Elizabeth knew that ‘anger’ for Kenneth could sometimes be a lot more intense than it was for some people. “Did—“
“I— I kept myself from blowing up this time,” Kenneth said. “But, there was… Um… Have you ever had a nightmare without going to sleep first?”
“No?” Elizabeth said. “What do you mean, Kenneth?”
“I mean…” Kenneth said. “Earlier, Karl was doing stuff that made me think about some things that happened to me a long time ago which I have a lot of bad dreams about. And, then it was like I was having a nightmare, but I hadn’t fallen asleep. I was still standing there.”
Elizabeth kept looking at him. She had no idea what that could be. “Have you… Ever fallen asleep randomly?” Maybe he HAD gone to sleep without realizing it? It would be odd to do that standing up, but…
“No,” Kenneth said. “I have to take pills to sleep at all, remember?”
Elizabeth did remember that. She’d been the one to give them to him… “Did you drink anything unusual today? Did you drink water that could have been contaminated?” Her only other guess was that he’d hallucinated after ingesting something he shouldn’t have.
“No,” Kenneth said. “I only drink the water that comes out of the taps.”
And Elizabeth knew that water was perfectly clean. “How about… Did you smoke something?” The guards were absolutely not supposed to use drugs, and she didn’t think Kenneth would ever break that rule. But, perhaps he’d mistaken something else for a regular cigarette? Did he even smoke, though?
Kenneth shook his head once more, “No. I promise.”
“I wasn’t accusing you,” Elizabeth said. “I’m just… I don’t know what happened to you, I’m sorry.”
Kenneth nodded, disappointed. Maybe whatever it was had been a fluke? He sure hoped so. He didn’t want that happening again… |
Bryce began to dread waking up every morning. Karl would always have some series of drills for him to do, each one painful in its own way. He hadn’t done the water-jug marching one again since Elizabeth had told him off for it, but that didn’t mean Bryce wasn’t still enduring a lot of desperation. There were zero breaks in between drills, and certainly none during them. Bryce would be put through long hours of physically exhausting tasks from sunrise to sunset, no chance to pee at any point. He now knew what Kenneth must have felt the day of his exam when he’d been made to do sit-ups with a full bladder. Bryce had been made to do that daily now for weeks and more than once the strain of it all had brought him to tears.
Even though he was not being forced to swallow massive jugs of water in quick succession, the exertion of the drills made him thirsty and dehydrated. He HAD to drink to keep from passing out or hurting himself, and by the time night came and Karl dismissed him, Bryce would be so desperate for a toilet break that he’d barely manage to get to a restroom and tear his zipper down before he totally exploded.
A few times, he DIDN’T end up managing that. Wetting himself right in front of a toilet soon became a very common occurrence for Bryce, each incident making him feel lower and lower until he suddenly felt like he was beneath even a worm. Adding to his shame was the knowledge that little Kenneth went from morning to night without a piss all the freaking time, and yet he presumably always made it. ‘He can only do that because of his problem,’ Bryce kept reminding himself. ‘It is nothing for you to envy.’ But, envy it he did. Every time he felt buckets of warm, slick urine slip down his legs, he cursed himself and wished he could restrain his body for as long as Kenneth routinely did.
Only after his bladder had emptied out (one way or another) would Bryce become aware of his ravenous hunger; Karl was not allowing him any breaks for food either. At first, he’d tried to eat more at breakfast time to make that easier on himself, but then being made to exercise vigorously after a big meal had made him get horrendously sick— And Karl still hadn’t relented or allowed him to rest for the remainder of the day. That day quickly became one of the worst of Bryce’s life; And of course it HAD to have ended with him soaking his pants two steps from the toilet.
After that, Bryce stopped eating at breakfast time entirely. Holding his piss all day while doing strenuous activities with an EMPTY stomach was a lot better than holding his piss all day while doing strenuous activities with an extremely UPSET stomach. But, it meant that dinner time was the only time Bryce ate each day. Fasting throughout the day combined with the appetite he worked up exercising meant he ended up eating like a starving pig. People stared as he scarfed down his food, barely chewing it. It was so embarrassing for someone like him, that routinely scolded his subordinates for having poor manners.
Bryce was definitely NOT out of shape. Not even close. What Karl was having him do every day was well beyond what any human body could have reasonably been expected to take.
The constant drills were also keeping Bryce from performing any of his ACTUAL job which was supposed to involve supervising his subordinates. He’d been made to pawn this off onto other people, none of which he thought could keep anyone in line as well as HE could.
He couldn’t do this anymore.
It needed to end.
He’d been trying to come up with a way to put a stop to it. But, his secret weapon was of no use to him now. Kenneth Paulson, the scheming, little twerp that was so good at vengeance and at pulling pranks, was unable to help him this time. “I can’t do it,” Kenneth had told him. “You heard Karl wants to— To do… that… water drill to me. And I’m sorry, but I’d prefer NOT to have any of my organs rupture and kill me.”
“Elizabeth won’t let him do it,” Bryce had said.
But, Kenneth hadn’t wanted to risk it. Bryce understood, he really did. He knew that that particular drill would result in very serious bodily harm to Kenneth and that he couldn’t risk being put through it… But, Kenneth was still the ONLY person Bryce knew that was capable of annoying the fuck out of someone until they obeyed his whims.
“Besides,” Kenneth had gone on. “Um, when I get near Karl, I… Have a very hard time controlling myself.”
Bryce had wanted to tell him that that wouldn’t be so bad. If Kenneth allowed his rage-demon to take over for a few minutes so that he ended up going ballistic and beating the fuck out of Karl, that would be fine with Bryce. Violence was probably the only language that Karl would understand.
He hadn’t told Kenneth that, though. Kenneth’s fits were not to be encouraged. And, even if Kenneth ever DID allow his demon to take control around Karl, Karl was a whole Hell of a lot bigger than Kenneth and Kenneth was likely to get his ass handed to him in under a minute.
Bryce had gone to Dwight next. Kenneth was always the brains behind any scheme the two of them pulled off, but Dwight could be useful as well. He was, at least, STRONGER than Kenneth. So, if Bryce WANTED someone to lay Karl out, he would be a good option.
Dwight had been of no use either. He was too frightened of the repercussions to mess with Karl, and definitely didn’t want to get violent with him.
So, Bryce was left on his own to sort out his problem.
Every morning, before he left for another day of abuse, Bryce would wake up dying for a piss. Waking up desperate wasn’t unusual for him at all, of course. He ALWAYS woke up in urgent need of the toilet, with no time to do anything else before bolting for it. But, it had been about a month of relentless, intense exercise and daily bouts of extreme desperation, all with no breaks for his body to recover and heal from any of it. His early-morning emergencies were starting to feel… Different, somehow. They were much, much more intense, and harder to deal with.
Bryce would wake up, usually from a nightmare consisting of Karl taunting him and barking orders at him as rain hissed down from the Heavens to form massive puddles all around them. He’d barely have time to come to his senses and wipe the sleepy fog from his brain before he’d be hit with a painful, scorching throb from beneath the waistband of his boxers. Next, he’d recognize that his hands had mashed themselves between his tangled legs at some point during the night, and usually he’d also notice that his palms were already a bit damp from spurts he’d lost before waking.
The realization would make him moan and panic, make him fully alert. Bryce would then need to struggle to his feet— Getting up in the morning was always difficult, not just because his bladder was weeping with need and the tiniest of movements irritated its sensitive walls, but because his entire body was painfully sore and exhausted. His limbs all ached, his feet screamed when he put any of his body weight down onto them, trying to move his legs to walk made it feel like he was being hit in the backs of his knees with a mallet. It all made Bryce wish he had a chamber pot, something he could use to relieve his bladder without leaving bed.
But, staying in bed wasn’t an option. He didn’t have a chamber pot, and Karl would punish him swiftly and harshly if he laid in bed all day in lieu of following orders and reporting to him. So, Bryce would force himself up, and he would drag his bloated, aching body to the toilet. Most mornings, he lost a few more leaks during the short walk, something that he didn’t USED to have happen when he was bursting first thing in the morning. No matter how badly he’d had to go, he’d rarely woken up damp or dribbled the whole way to the bathroom until all of these nasty things with Karl had begun.
Once he was at last at the toilet, he would shove his boxers down and tiredly set himself down on the seat as he allowed his poor bladder to drain itself.
This was the only part of Bryce’s day during which he was not experiencing any pain. The only part that felt good because he could actually fucking sit down and relax for a couple minutes.
The bliss of his urine erupting from his tip, the relief of his bladder compressing down into itself and shrinking back to its proper size… It was such a wonderful, comfortable thing to feel that it managed to cancel out all of the achy soreness in Bryce’s body for a little bit.
He actually tried to restrain his stream and pee slowly, even though he’d needed to go so, so badly. He wanted this to last as long as it possibly could. Once his bladder was empty, he was going to have to move again. Despite his best efforts, his pee DID eventually stop.
Bryce would remain there for a few moments longer. He wanted to make sure he’d gotten every drop out of himself, because he knew he would not be visiting a toilet again for a very, very long time. Once he was certain he was well and truly empty, he’d pull up his boxers and struggle into the rest of his clothes so that he could report to Karl.
One morning, Bryce suffered a MAJOR leak on his way to the toilet, one that saturated his boxers completely, to the point his hands got damp and slick when he pulled them down to blast out the rest of his stream. He had to fight back tears of shame as he emptied out the remainder of his flood.
Bryce swore his bladder was getting weaker. He swore his whole body was getting weaker. He was having an increasingly difficult time holding his urine in, and the more he performed the drills for Karl, the harder they got for him. The speed at which Bryce could run had decreased tremendously, the amount of sit-ups and push-ups he could manage had been cut in half. When he moved, Bryce felt like his entire body was encased in lead and it took a Herculean effort just to raise his arms above his head. He knew he was somehow losing all of his strength, and he hated himself for it.
Once he was as certain as he could be that his bladder had pushed out all that it had, he forced himself back onto his aching feet. God… How could just the SOLES of his feet hurt so bad?!
That morning, he had to put on fresh boxers when he got himself dressed for the day, the ones he’d slept in were now too cold, clammy and smelly to continue wearing. Just getting dressed was agonizing. Lifting his feet up to put his pants on made his legs scream. Bending down to put on his boots made his back erupt in fiery pain. Slipping on his shirt caused his arms to ignite with ripples of hurt.
He couldn’t do another day of this. All of his limbs would probably fall off, or something.
Bryce was a man that LIKED a bit of pain. He’d licked blades of knives just to prove to himself that he COULD before, and at night when his mind wandered he’d had more than a few illicit fantasies involving ropes and paddles… But, there was pain, and then there was PAIN. There were fun, limit-pushing games and fantasies, and then there was bullying and abuse. Just because Bryce had a few out-there preferences, that didn’t mean he had to enjoy it when someone maliciously tried to actually destroy him.
By the time he’d gotten his uniform on, his worn out bladder was already asking for his attention again. Knowing better than to ignore it when he knew what was about to happen to him, he returned to the toilet and drained himself for a second time. Quite a bit of fluid poured forth, and he was worried. He was filling up alarmingly fast today, and after this, he’d have to restrain it until night fell.
He chewed on his lip, wishing he could say he was sick and not have to do Karl’s stupid exercises today. But, he knew it wouldn’t work. Karl hadn’t even let him take the day off when he’d ACTUALLY been sick. Karl hadn’t even let him take the day off when he’d been standing RIGHT there WATCHING Bryce get sick. Karl would certainly never allow a day of rest when Bryce was just faking an illness.
He zipped himself up, resigned to another day of misery, already aware that he was likely to have another accident at some point today.
Half an hour later, he reported directly to the administration building, just as he’d done every day now for weeks. This morning, he warily darted into the men’s room before going to Karl’s office. One more piss, he decided. Just to give himself a slightly higher chance of making it today. He stood at the trough, bore down on his muscles as hard as he could, and tried to force his pee out as fast as he could. But, even as hard as he was pushing, his tired body only allowed him to get out a slow trickle.
Before he was through, the door swung open and in walked Karl. “Oh, there you are,” Karl said, walking over to the trough and standing beside Bryce. He unzipped and allowed his own stream to flow, not pausing his speech. “Bryce, you know you’re supposed to go right to my office.”
Bryce’s fatigued stream got even weaker. He didn’t normally get THAT upset if someone talked to him while he was going, it was irritating, but not a big deal. But, Karl wasn’t just ‘someone’, he was ‘Karl’. “I needed to go first,” Bryce mumbled.
“Zip it up,” Karl said. “You can piss on your own time.”
Bryce was still trickling, which was pretty alarming. He’d JUST gone a little while ago, how could he have filled up again so quickly!? “I’m not done,” he said.
“Yes, you are,” Karl said. “Cut it off, finish it later.”
What the Hell was that supposed to mean?! Bryce was already peeing, there was no going back now.
Karl’s release dwindled and ceased, and if Bryce didn’t know any better he’d swear Karl was bothered that Bryce’s stream was lasting longer than his had. “I said zip it up,” Karl ordered.
“I can’t stop it,” Bryce muttered. Christ, this was ridiculous…
“Don’t care,” Karl said gruffly. “You have a lot to do today. Don’t make me discipline you. Don’t think I won’t, nobody’s around to stop me from filling up a few water jugs today.”
Whimpering, Bryce stuffed his still dribbling cock back into his pants and fumbled his zipper back up with twitchy hands. He was shaking so bad that he could hardly believe he’d actually managed to move the zipper correctly. The last few spurts still left inside his bladder quickly ejected themselves into his boxers, and he felt so ashamed of himself for giving in and complying. He knew what he should have done. He should have told Karl ‘Fuck you, that’s completely unreasonable.’ and finished emptying out into the trough.
But, the thought of having to do the water jug marching thing again, especially with how strangely his bladder had already been behaving today… It made him shudder.
“There’s a good boy,” Karl said. “Let’s go.”
Bryce would have liked to have washed his hands— He was okay with not doing that after peeing if there wasn’t a sink, but if there WAS one he did prefer to practice proper hygiene. He didn’t dare mention that to Karl though, Karl would surely make fun of him. He could already imagine Karl calling him prissy, or unmanly, or a whole host of other insults if he complained about wanting to have clean hands.
Karl led Bryce right outside, and yet another Hellish day commenced. Karl screamed at Bryce to run several laps around the building. The first one was hard enough on his demolished joints and worn out muscles, and the ones that followed it only got more and more painful. His gait grew slower and clumsier with each painful step, and Karl mocked him the whole time. “Wow, Bryce. I would have thought someone in YOUR position would need to be tough and strong. But, you’re neither of those things, are you? You can’t even fucking run!”
Bryce COULD run! He USED to be able to run a lot! But, his legs BURNED right now. They seriously burned, like they’d actually been lit on fire. Heat and agony scorched through every one of his muscles, his bones felt like they were about to crumble to dust. His empty stomach growled and the world around him grew faded and mushy, and everything just… Hurt. It hurt so much. There was not one part of Bryce’s body that felt okay anymore.
When Karl finally let him stop running, he immediately picked up a water jug and guzzled it. Black spots had been fraying along the edge of his vision for a while now, and he KNEW he needed to pump some fluid into himself. His swollen tongue delighted at the cool liquid pooling across it, his dry throat ceased its incessant scratching, his stomach seemed pleased to at least have SOMETHING inside of it now.
But, even as the positive effects of his hydration took hold, Bryce became filled with dread when he set the jug down and saw how much he’d just swallowed. He knew where it was going, and already that area of his body felt like it had a little bit of pressure inside it. He was honestly shocked, he’d peed THREE times today already, he shouldn’t need to go yet AGAIN so quickly! He stumbled back, his leg joints spasming and almost sending him to his knees. And even after all of that water, Bryce’s vision was still a little blurred.
Bryce had a horrible feeling that something was wrong.
“All better, princess?” Karl asked after watching Bryce eagerly suck down his drink.
“Karl,” Bryce said. “I don’t feel right…”
“Awww,” Karl sarcastically cooed. “Poor, little baby… Is somebody all tuckered out?”
Bryce didn’t know WHAT he was. ‘Tired’ didn’t even describe how he was feeling… He felt… Broken. That was it. He felt like his body was completely broken, could no longer function in the way it was supposed to.
“Well, this may come as a surprise, but I don’t care,” Karl said. “Twenty more laps. Now.”
Bryce tried to run as he knew Karl was expecting, but he couldn’t. He could barely even lift his feet from the ground. He trudged, dragging his boots against the dirt, and… God, since when were his boots so heavy?! They must have each weighed twenty pounds or something… It took him forever to finish twenty laps, Karl laughing and scoffing at his abysmal performance the whole time. Once he’d finished, he felt like he was going to collapse, and like he was going to piss his pants. Karl, of course, only ordered him to do another twenty laps.
Bryce still had no idea what was wrong with him right now, but whatever it was had had a profound effect upon his bladder. Once more, it was blisteringly full. He was doing his best to hold it, but it was SO hard right now. He just… He didn’t have the ENERGY to hold it in right now. Tensing his thighs up to help restrain his urine made them cramp, made his whole body feel even more exhausted. Trying to shift his weight made him dizzy with tiredness, made it feel like sharp spikes were being driven into the soles of his feet. He was holding himself whenever he was behind the building and out of Karl’s view, but even his FINGERS were gnawing with stinging pain and tightening them enough to get a decent grip made them spasm with convulsions.
Just having to exert the effort to will his sphincters to stay shut was taking more energy than Bryce currently possessed. Every time his bladder stabbed or pounded at him, he would whimper and do his best to fight through the stinging pain so he could clench it closed. After a few more stumbling, contorted laps, the sun was high in the sky and Bryce was certain that THIS was going to be the day; The day in which he finally completely broke right in front of Karl. He was going to flood his pants, and Karl was going to be there to see it happen.
Bryce just didn’t have it in him to hold it. He didn’t have it in him to do anything. He was like a zombie, going through the motions as he dragged himself around and around the building, doing his best to keep his bladder at bay. He’d already leaked a few spurts into his boxers, and the weirdest thing was that he didn’t even care. He felt the material growing sodden and heavy, felt the dampness encasing his length, felt the wet patch grow and grow… And he didn’t care.
Bryce knew that he should have cared that he was actively wetting his pants. He should have been mortified. He should have been disgusted. But, embarrassment and revulsion both require at least a little bit of energy and brain-power. Two things Bryce had been completely sapped of. His thoughts were disjointed, primitive nonsense, his mind now only able to comprehend the most basic and animalistic of desires. ‘I’m so tired. It hurts so much. I want to go pee. I want to sleep. I want to sit down. I want to go pee. I want food. I want a bed. I want a toilet. I want a chair. I want to go pee. I want to rest. I want to eat. I want to go pee. I need to pee really bad. I’m going to pass out. I’m going to have an accident. I need the bathroom. I need to sleep. There’s so much pain. Please let me sleep. Please let me pee…’
Karl’s jeers and cackles no longer registered themselves to Bryce’s ears. They faded into the swirling, twisting, foggy background of his surroundings. The only things that existed to Bryce were his destroyed muscles and his aching, dripping bladder. ‘Please, make it stop. I can’t do it anymore. I need to sleep. I need to pee. Make it stop. Make it stop.’ Another stream of urine sloshed against the crotch of his boxers, re-warming the drying damp patch. Again, Bryce didn’t care. He only had a tiny shred left of his stubborn pride and a little sliver of foggy awareness that Karl was still watching, and if it wasn’t for that, he would have given up entirely and drenched the living Hell out of his pants by now.
When he came around the building and returned to Karl once more, Karl told him to stop. Bryce was on autopilot by then, however, and he kept going. He hadn’t heard a word Karl had said. “I said STOP, you fucking moron,” Karl bellowed.
Bryce stopped. Now that he was at a standstill, more of the feeling rushed back into his legs, and it wasn’t good. His nerve-endings and muscles roared with agonizing convulsions. His bladder began to pound and throb more tyrannically, and without thinking about it— ‘Thinking’ being something Bryce could no longer really manage— he grabbed hold of his member with both hands and squeezed. He tried to ignore the stabbing twinges that went through his hands, tried to focus only on his mission to keep his urine inside himself.
“Awww, does little Brycie have to use the potty?” Karl asked.
Bryce was swaying on his feet. He wasn’t sure if he was going to piss his pants or lose consciousness first. He knew he should have been mad at Karl’s word choice, should have found himself feeling humiliated by it. But, just as he no longer had it in him to care about his dampening pants, he no longer had it in him to care about anything Karl said. He just nodded. ‘Please,’ he begged mentally, because even in this state he was determined not to debase himself and beg Karl for something out-loud. ‘Please, just have mercy. I think I’m dying. I think I’m ACTUALLY dying. I need to sleep. I need to go pee. Just, please, let me? Please?’
“Poor Bryce!” Karl said. “He has the bladder of a three year old, doesn’t he?”
Bryce was convinced that Karl was right. His bladder must have… Shrunk or something. Along with the rest of his muscles. It was the only explanation for why everything was suddenly so difficult. Again, he nodded.
Karl barked out a laugh. “Shit, he even knows it! Christ, Bryce. You are one pathetic motherfucker, you know that?”
Bryce just kept nodding. He was pathetic. He really was. He could barely even walk anymore. He couldn’t lift his head up. He could scarcely manage to keep his eyes open. Even his eyelids were too heavy for him now. And, he was about to release his bladder completely, all down his legs.
“Ha,” Karl snickered. “Say it, Bryce. Say that you’re a pathetic excuse for a man, and maybe I’ll let you go.”
Bryce’s bladder cramped and gnawed at him, a searing, tender ball of pain in his center. He tightened his grip on his cock, grinding his teeth as he fought through the stiffness in his suffering hands. He struggled to find his voice, struggled to remember what words were, struggled to remember how to talk. His tongue lolled out of his mouth for a second and he croaked “I’m a pathetic excuse for a man.” The last dying ember of his pride had been snuffed out, taken out back and shot by insurmountable levels of exhaustion and anguish. He was broken, inside and out. Weeks of unrelenting physical and mental abuse had murdered every last remnant of Bryce’s very soul.
“What was that?” Karl asked. “I didn’t hear you.”
“I said that I’m a pathetic excuse for a man,” Bryce repeated.
“Awww, you sure are!” Karl nodded.
Bryce didn’t care. He’d say whatever Karl wanted him to say. Just as long as it ended with him being allowed to piss and rest, then he didn’t care. He shifted from foot to foot, once more having to fight away the horrific, bubbling aches that this action brought him. Now that there was a chance that he was going to get a pee break, he was going to try his best to make it. “I need to—“
“I think you’ve finally learned your lesson,” Karl considered. “Have you? Are you sorry for what you did?”
Bryce struggled to remember the incident with the tea which now seemed so long ago. He nodded his head up and down, the muscles in his neck tightening and searing. He was sorry. He was so, SO sorry…
“That’s good,” Karl said, and he stepped closer to harshly run a hand through Bryce’s hair.
Bryce stared at him with watery eyes. He was holding his breath. Breathing was painful. Breathing made tight bands of pressure wrap themselves around his bladder, made it contract and crunch into itself, made his urethra burn. He felt another drop collecting on his tip. He felt it soak into his boxers. He was going to explode… “S—So can I go now?”
“Not yet,” Karl said. “You weren’t the only one involved with that whole… Incident, remember? And, I believe you know a great deal more about those two than I do…”
Bryce’s heart began to sink. He recognized now what this all had REALLY been. Karl was torturing him in order to get information. Information about Kenneth and Dwight. Information he could use to hurt and torment them just as much as he’d hurt and tormented Bryce. Karl had spent weeks systematically breaking down Bryce’s strength, one of the things he held most dear. Now, it seemed, he wanted to know what Kenneth and Dwight were most sensitive about so he could do the same sort of thing to them.
Well. He wouldn’t get the chance. Those two were annoying morons, but they belonged to Bryce.
“You said I couldn’t have Kenneth do the water drill,” Karl went on. “Why not?”
“You heard Elizabeth…” Bryce said, shifting his weight once more and adjusting his grip on his fly. His pee-hole was tingling, fresh liquid bubbling against it. It hurt… “It is unhealthy.”
“You said that BEFORE Elizabeth spoke to me,” Karl said. “You said that Kenneth has a medical condition. What is his medical condition?”
“That’s… That’s not your business,” Bryce said. Some of his energy was returning, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he suddenly remembered how to feel angry. “Kenneth is my subordinate, I am the only one that needs to know details about his health.”
“I am in charge of you,” Karl said. “So, I am in charge of your subordinates as well. I have a right to know if there is something wrong with one of them.”
“It’s… Nothing,” Bryce said. A gnawing, pounding pressure was building at the base of his cock, it felt like his piss was about to spray out in one catastrophic eruption… “It does not effect his performance, so it is irrelevant to—“
“Tell. Me,” Karl said, all mockery gone from his voice.
Bryce stayed quiet. A twinge flared through his bladder, and he curled in on himself, hands tightening around his dick. He nearly whimpered, but fought it down.
“Bryce, you know I could easily obtain his medical records,” Karl said. “I am authorized to do that. Either you can tell me, or I’ll find out for myself. You can’t stop me. Kenneth needs to take his punishment too.”
Bryce sunk his teeth into his already raw, bitten lip. His abdomen was so tender and sore, his whole body was so tender and sore… This hadn’t been a ‘punishment’, this had been torture. And he knew whatever Karl did to Kenneth would be torture as well. Worse, whatever Karl did to Kenneth would involve taking advantage of a medical issue that could easily result in serious bodily harm. He was NOT going to tell Karl what condition Kenneth had, he was NOT going to give Karl the opportunity to make Kenneth sick, or worse…
Karl DID have the ability to get the medical records of anyone he was in charge of. Ordinarily, this was meant as a safety precaution. For example, if someone was allergic to a type of plant, it was good for whoever was in charge of them to know not to order them to crawl through an area where it was growing. But, in this case, Karl knowing Kenneth’s medical history would NOT keep him safe at all.
If… If the people in the medical building knew that Karl intended to abuse his power, would they have the authority to say ‘no’ to him and refuse to allow him access to the records?
Only one way to find out.
A need to protect his subordinates from suffering a similar fate to his own sparked a match inside Bryce’s brain, re-ignited his stubborn nature, brought new life to his sense of pride. “Fuck you, Karl!” Bryce said as loudly as he could manage.
And then he ran.
He knew he was going to pay for that. Swearing at one’s superior, being disrespectful in any way… Those things were always punished. But, if ever there was someone that needed to be cursed out…
Bryce was stunned that he’d suddenly regained the ability to run quickly, the flames flaring through his body now were no longer made of misery and anguish, they were made of anger and drive. He felt alive, he felt alert, he felt like he had a purpose, he felt… He felt…
Ohhhhhh! Fuck! Bryce had to PISS!
He came to a dead stop as the most intense feeling of them all slammed full force against his abdomen. He had to go… He had to go… Oh, dear GOD he had to GO!
He had to get to the medical building, though. Had to tell someone there not to let Karl know about Kenneth’s bladder issue. Had to tell them he intended to use the information to hurt him… The medical building had restrooms. And bottles. Things Bryce could pee into once his job was done. He could make it. It was close.
He reached the building and rushed inside. His bladder dripped and spilt the whole way there, but even now, he didn’t care. That didn’t matter. If he could stop Karl from unleashing the full brunt of his jackassery onto someone else, then even if he pissed his pants, it would be worth it. He didn’t care if he wet himself, not one bit, he didn’t care, he didn’t care, he didn’t—
“Bryce?” Elizabeth asked. “Oh dear, you look exhausted! Are you okay?”
Suddenly, Bryce REALLY cared. Suddenly, Bryce cared a whole lot. He could NOT wet himself. He could not. Not in front of Elizabeth. He had to hold it. Keep it in, keep it in, keep it in… He stood there, shifting around twitchily and trying to keep his hands from palming his groin.
“Bryce…?” Elizabeth prompted. “I think you need to lay down…”
‘Yessss….’ Bryce thought. ‘I want to lay down.’ God, to be off his feet… Just for a moment would feel so wonderful…
No. He’d come here for a reason. And he still had to GO. No laying down until those things were handled. “Elizabeth,” he struggled to clear his throat, a hand returning to his cock without his notice. “K—Karl wants to see Paulson’s medical records.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I can get that for—“
“You have to promise you won’t let him,” Bryce interrupted. “Karl has been making me do drills all day every day,” he explained. “For… A little over a month now, I think.”
Elizabeth frowned. Bryce was no longer really supposed to be doing drills at all now that he’d been assigned his job— Drills were only supposed to happen for him for either disciplinary reasons or just once a month to help his body stay in shape. Even in training, the intense work-outs weren’t supposed to happen every single day. Muscles couldn’t grow strong if they were never given any recovery time. “You’ve had… No days off?”
Bryce shook his head back and forth, his neck screeching at the motion.
That wasn’t right either. They were all supposed to get at least two days off every month… “Bryce—“
“And, he has done this to punish me because he is angry that Paulson, Smith and I pulled a joke on him months ago,” Bryce continued, shutting his eyes tightly. The pressure inside his bladder was absolutely scorching, all of it sharpening to a bright point of pain at the edge of his urethral opening. He shifted from foot to foot, a second hand clasping over his crotch as his hips shimmied. None of his spasming, urgent dancing registered to him, he just HAD to get these words out! “He intends to torment Kenneth and Dwight in some way as well. I let slip that Kenneth has a medical condition, Karl wants to know the specifics on that so he can use it to punish him.”
Elizabeth stared at him. It went without saying that that was incredibly inappropriate behavior. No matter how upset Karl was about whatever had happened before they’d started working together, he did not have the right to abuse his position to get revenge. No telling what he would do to Kenneth if he knew about his urinary difficulties, most likely something that would make him very ill… “I won’t show him, don’t worry,” she said.
“Thank you!” Bryce said, relief filling his chest… Which only made him feel all the more eager for a different kind of relief. Except… Now he was going to have to TELL Elizabeth that he had to go…
He was NOT supposed to talk about such matters to a woman. When he’d been in school, that had been one of the things he’d learned about. That men and women had very, VERY different brains and that being a PROPER gentleman meant taking those differences into account and acting accordingly. It was okay to cuss or make jokes or talk about bodily functions in the company of men, but all of those things were forbidden around women.
As a kid, these rules had confused him a little bit. His Dad cussed sometimes if he whacked his foot against something, even if his Mom was around. And he told jokes to her, too. And once when the family had been out at a park together for a very, VERY long time, Dad had said to Mom that they needed to head back soon because he was ‘dying for the toilet’.
But, everybody at school had been pretty insistent that Bryce was to treat women in a very, very specific way. So, telling Elizabeth that he needed to urinate was off the table… As he tried to think of what to do, his legs tangled together all the more tightly, and his hands squeezed and squeezed away at his crotch.
Elizabeth kept watching him. His little, yet extremely obvious, dance was kind of cute… But she didn’t know why he was continuing to do it. She’d thought he just wanted to make sure Kenneth was safe before he took care of himself, but apparently not…
Then, she remembered the day Dwight had wet himself in front of her, what he’d said about Bryce’s ‘rules’ for talking to women… She was a little surprised that he couldn’t bring himself to say ‘I need the bathroom’ to her but apparently was fine with all that squirming and crotch-grabbing. Maybe he didn’t realize that he was doing it?
“Um… Bryce?” Elizabeth knew this was probably going to embarrass him, but it would be better than just letting him stand there until he made a puddle… “Do you… Need to visit the toilet?”
Nobody had ever told Bryce that it was bad to say ‘Yes’ when a woman ASKED him if he needed the bathroom. He nodded frantically. “Yes,” he said, blushing down at himself as he realized how obvious he must have been this whole time…
“Okay,” Elizabeth said. “You can use this one…” She led him down the hall to a door. “Try not to hold it for so long anymore, okay?”
Bryce gave another flushed, embarrassed nod and rushed into the bathroom. He spurted out another stream as soon as he saw the toilet, its lid already raised. ‘Ahhh, gotta go!’ his brain screamed as he clamped his thighs together. He’d gotten too close now, he was NOT going to lose it right in front of the toilet again. Not when Elizabeth was out there! He spun around to face the closed door, reasoning that if the toilet was no longer in his field of vision, taunting him, he’d have an easier time holding off until his zip was down. ‘Gotta peeeee….’ His hands scrambled madly at his belt, quickly pulling it apart, the buttons followed suit right away and then he gripped his zipper and tugged.
And tugged.
And. TUGGED.
It wouldn’t move!
Earlier, when Karl had forced him to zip his pants up before he’d finished, he must have been shaking so much that he’d gotten it jammed somehow!
Panic gripped him completely. He was going to wet himself for sure now! He tried to just yank his pants down over himself, but with the zipper still up they were too tight and wouldn’t budge! Fear swirled around and around in his brain. ‘No, no, no!’ he thought, one more dribble flying loose. ‘Please, there’s a GIRL here! Please, just— Just let me!’ He fought wildly with his zipper, yanking on it as hard as he could, accidentally pressing his hands against his abdomen as he did so. “Ahh—!” he cried out as the pressure skyrocketed, and a gush of pee audibly hissed into his boxers. “Come on! You stupid— Fucking— God dammit— Shit— MOVE!”
There was a knock on the door. “Um… Bryce?” It was Elizabeth’s voice, and Bryce wanted to die…
“Y—Yes?” Bryce called back, trying to sound pleasant and cordial when internally he was screaming.
“Er… Everything okay in there?”
No! Nothing was okay! He was about to fucking piss his pants! He already WAS fucking pissing his pants! Slowly, sure, but it was happening! Drop by uncontainable drop, his bladder was splitting open. “I— I— No… My… My zipper is stuck, and I… I can’t hold it! I can’t!”
Elizabeth didn’t say anything for a moment. Bryce was so… Headstrong about things, and she wasn’t so sure how comfortable he would be to have HER help him out here… But, all the male medics were busy elsewhere… It would feel strange for him, she knew. But, it WAS her job to help with… ‘emergencies’. And it sure as Hell sounded like Bryce was having one of those right now. “Uh… If you unlock the door, I can help?”
Bryce was faced with an impossible decision. Either he flood his pants now and have Elizabeth see him in pee-soaked clothes, or he open the door and have a CHANCE at making it, but have her… touching… around… there. When his bladder gave one more painful, agonizing lurch, he gave into it and unlocked the door. “Hur—hurry!” he begged her.
“I will,” Elizabeth said, stepping inside with him. She knelt down in front of him. “Oh… Dear, I need you to move your hand out of the way… I’m sorry. I know it’s… Hard.”
‘Oh God, why did she have to say ‘hard’?!’ Bryce thought as his face boiled red hot with embarrassment. He hadn’t even realized he was holding his cock again, but released it.
Elizabeth started working on Bryce’s zipper. Bryce remembered the time Kenneth had helped him in this same way. That had been really weird, but at least Kenneth was another guy… And one he’d only ever felt maybe a slight, passing attraction towards once or twice… Or maybe three times— A secret he intended to take to his grave. Elizabeth was a woman though, and the attraction he felt to her was neither slight nor passing. This felt… God, her hands were over his… ‘Don’t think about it. Don’t let… THAT happen right now.’ He wasn’t even sure if he could GET an erection at the moment with his bladder as full as it was, and he didn’t exactly want to find out.
“Oh… It’s really stuck…” Elizabeth mumbled. “You poor thing! I promise, I’ll have you out of these pants as fast as I can!”
‘Is… Does… Is she doing that on purpose!?’ Bryce’s brain screamed. Was she!? He knew from experience that it was trickier to begin urinating while hard, and so if he got that way now it wouldn’t be as easy for him to have an accident. But, he HOPED that wasn’t her goal. That would be too embarrassing! Even peeing his pants would be less humiliating! Maybe she just didn’t realize how that had sounded…
When he looked down, she was blushing and she gave an awkward laugh. “Oh, I think that came out wrong,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
Okay. So she WASN’T trying to tease him until he got hard and couldn’t wet his pants. Good… Except, Bryce still SERIOUSLY felt like he was gonna wet his pants, which was a bit LESS good. He wanted to hold his member again, but doing that would only result in him needing to wait longer… Liquid sloshed and thrashed, and his pee-hole felt like it was vibrating from all the strain, and—
Zzziiiip!
“There you are!” Elizabeth said. “That’s bett—“
And then, yet again, Bryce’s desperate and exhausted brain… Pretty much just broke and stopped working. He forgot where he was, he forgot who was with him… He only remembered that his zipper was down, that he was very tired, that there was a toilet, and that he had a LOT of piss that needed to come out… He rushed over to the toilet, tugging his pants down further and the instant he was seated, he was gushing for all he was worth. He could… He could finally just relax… His legs were allowed a break, his bladder was allowed a break, all the agonies of the day were going away…
His worn out legs and feet sang with relief as he was finally able to get off of them, the aching muscles inside them finally slackening. His bladder went loose and light, the release of his burden spraying out through his opening and hissing and splattering into the bowl below him making him moan. “Ahhhh….” His eyes had closed as he’d sat himself down, a smile now spreading across his relaxed features. He just felt so much better…
Elizabeth blinked at him for a second, before spinning around with a surprised “Oh!” She hadn’t expected him to just… GO like that. She understood he’d needed this very, very badly, but with as reluctant as he’d been to even TELL her that he had to pee, she never would have thought he’d do it before she’d left the room.
She was also surprised that… Well, she supposed she shouldn’t really be thinking about it… But, she was surprised that Bryce was sitting down for this. Poor guy had looked absolutely worn out, it must have felt good to rest his legs, but she’d never seen a guy sit to go before— Not that she’d seen men pee THAT many times even in her line of work, but still…
She’d, admittedly, been a little jealous that men could go standing and without needing to remove as much clothing. She’d suffered more than a few instances of desperation that would have been easily avoided had she been able to go outdoors quickly, easily and discreetly. And she’d probably be FAR less annoyed that most of the men around here didn’t seem to be able to remember to put the seat down most of the time.
Beyond the surprise she felt that Bryce would choose to go both in front of her and sitting down, she also thought he… Well, looked a little cute. Not because he was peeing, that wasn’t it. Just… That look on his face, so happy and content. She’d never seen him look any way other than annoyed, stressed or weary, but now she discovered that he had a pretty adorable smile…
She grew somewhat concerned when quite some time passed and Bryce was still spraying away like a broken faucet. It was the same feeling she’d gotten when she’d seen how much Kenneth tended to fill the urine bottles here. An awareness that he’d held in far more than was healthy.
She knew that today Bryce’s desperation had come about thanks to being bullied, and she hoped he didn’t push himself like this often…
Bryce’s body started to shudder, a pleasurable shiver working up and down his spine. He didn’t know if peeing had ever felt this good before. He’d made it! He’d done it! And he hadn’t embarrassed himself too badly in front of Elizabeth at all, and—
Wait.
His eyes cracked open.
She was… Still… Here…
He was… Half naked, sitting on the toilet, and releasing a waterfall right in front of her.
He’d… He’d been so overwhelmed by his need that he’d failed to wait for her to leave! How could he have been so stupid!? How could he have been so impulsive!? “Ah!” he cried, hands flying to cover himself up a little, even though the damage was obviously done.
Elizabeth heard him gasp, but didn’t think she should turn around. She could still hear his stream flowing, he wasn’t done yet… A fact which continued to alarm her.
Finally, the last of his pee had trickled out. Normally, if Bryce was this tired, he would stay on the toilet for a couple more minutes even after he’d run out of urine to expel, but this time he quickly sprang to his feet and pulled his pants back up. “Ah— Oh—“ he stammered, shakily flushing the toilet and stumbling to the sink. “Oh— Oh my God, I— God—“
“Bryce,” Elizabeth said gently, turning back around and watching as he splashed some water onto his face. She now had a feeling he’d managed to entirely forget she was there once he’d realized relief was finally on the table for him; He hadn’t MEANT to go in front of her, it had just happened. “It’s… It’s okay.”
Bryce wanted to leave. He wanted to leave this room and bury himself under twenty feet of dirt so he’d never have to interact with anyone ever again. “I— I— I just— I—“
“It’s okay,” Elizabeth repeated. “You just had to go so much that you weren’t thinking clearly. That’s all.”
“I’m so sorry,” Bryce finally managed to spit out.
“It’s fine,” Elizabeth promised. “Trust me, a man peeing into a toilet is FAR from the grossest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Bryce felt a little better knowing that he hadn’t offended her or anything. More of his day returned to his memory. “Oh, God… I swore at Karl and ran away from him. He’s going to kill me.”
“Worry about him later,” Elizabeth said. “Right now, you NEED rest. Your body has been through way too much. You need to get your strength back.” |
This one is looooong....
***
Now, Kenneth and Dwight shared one of their beds most nights. It had become less of a desire and more of a need. Dwight needed Kenneth’s arm possessively wrapped around him, he needed that constant reminder that Kenneth had claimed him, wanted him all to himself. Kenneth needed for his protector to be right there beside him when he woke from a nightmare.
The nightmares were becoming more intense, and quite a bit more frequent. Any night when they slept apart, Kenneth would wake trembling and on the verge of screaming, feeling so cold throughout his body that he’d swear he was turning to ice. When this happened, he would rush to the other side of the room and nestle himself into Dwight’s bed alongside him, wriggling so close that it was like he was trying to crawl inside him. If Dwight was ever woken by this, he didn’t complain. He’d know right away what had happened and would simply nuzzle his frightened companion and whisper to him that everything was okay now.
On nights when they slept together, Kenneth would wake up with his heart pounding, and would immediately grab onto the material of Dwight’s pajamas, just to remind himself that he was there. The nightmares seemed to happen less often when they slept together, as if the feeling of Dwight’s warm body against his own was soothing to Kenneth’s brain even when it was asleep. But, either way, Kenneth still averaged about one bad dream a week.
Kenneth wished with all his heart that they would just go away. He’d thought that, since his Father was no longer walking the Earth, he shouldn’t still be so afraid of him. He’d thought that, since he’d been the one to send Father down to Hell where he belonged, he should no longer feel broken by him. Kenneth had won, hadn’t he? He’d survived the Hell of his childhood and adolescence, while his Father had not. Kenneth had watched the life drain from his Father’s eyes, had felt so much satisfaction and freedom in that moment. It was supposed to have been over, so why wasn’t it?
The most peculiar part of it all was that sometimes the nightmares weren’t of what Father did to him. Sometimes, the nightmares were of what Kenneth had done to his Father. When he’d done it, when he’d pulled the trigger and ended his Father’s wretched existence, he’d felt many things. He’d felt pulse-pounding fear, he’d felt heart-shattering rage, he’d felt triumph and delight… But, afterwards, there was also shame. He had killed his own Father. He reminded himself again and again that it had been well deserved, and that he’d only been acting in self defense. Father was going to kill him if he didn’t shoot. He’d had no choice. And he’d never gotten into any kind of trouble for the incident. He’d re-arranged the room a little and found a depressed passage Father had written in his journal to leave near the body before he’d fled. When Father was discovered days later it was easily written off as a suicide and Kenneth and Dwight had already left town.
But, in Kenneth’s nightmares, something usually went wrong somehow. He’d shoot his weapon too late and his Father would succeed in murdering him. He’d leave something crucial behind at the scene and be arrested for murder. It would turn out that his Father actually survived somehow and had been looking for him all this time to get revenge. And, if something didn’t go wrong, then the focus of his nightmare would be his guilt and his fear of himself. He’d killed his own Father and he’d been damned happy to do it, too. Didn’t that mean he was just as bad?
Kenneth hated how much he looked like his Father. They didn’t have the same hair color, but their eyes were identical. Large and blue. They both had pointed chins and small frames. They looked too similar. He wished he looked like his Mother instead. He had her nose, but that was about it. He was more made up of his Father than he was of her, and that was terrifying.
One night, after waking from such a dream, Dwight assured him again and again that he was not his Father. “You’ve done bad things,” Dwight conceded. “You’ve punched people or yelled or broken things you shouldn’t have, but nobody is good one hundred percent of the time. That’s impossible. I think the good in you outweighs the bad, though.”
Kenneth just hanged his head. Sometimes, when he looked in the mirror, he didn’t see anything good. He saw his Father, just with different hair.
“So, Kenneth Paulson has trouble with his temper,” Dwight said. “So, he flies off the handle sometimes. Well, he’s also funny, he’s loyal, he’s protective. He might not get close to many people but the ones he DOES he cares about very much. He usually will say he’s sorry if he does something wrong and try to make up for it… He’s also, might I add, VERY cute—“
Kenneth blushed and looked away, “I look like him,” he corrected.
“Only a little,” Dwight said, pulling Kenneth closer. “And, it’s not just how you look that makes you so cute, it’s how you act, too. Like the way you still pretend that you’re ‘giving in’ to me every time we sleep together like this, it’s adorable.”
Kenneth felt better in Dwight’s arms. ‘Father hated Mother,’ he thought. ‘The only reason they got married was because she was pregnant with me and their families made them. But, he hated her. He was even worse to her than he was to me.’ Kenneth didn’t think he’d ever seen his Father love anyone. He’d loved two things, booze and himself.
But, Kenneth… He wasn’t like that. He didn’t have a vacant, empty space where his heart should have been. He loved things and people. He’d loved his Mother when she’d been alive, and he still loved her now. He loved the tropics. He loved Bryce… In a way. He loved messing with him, at least. But, most of all… “Dwight… Um… I…”
Dwight brushed his lips against Kenneth’s neck. “Hm?”
“I… Uh… I…” Kenneth swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling very dry. He wasn’t like his Father because Father was not capable of love or compassion, and Kenneth WAS. He really was. “I… I love you, Dwight,” he finally said.
Dwight’s heart thrummed in his chest. He’d known Kenneth loved him for a long time. He’d known it for years. But, hearing him finally say the words like that… “I love you too, Kenneth.”
Kenneth felt tension ease from his body when Dwight reciprocated. He hadn’t doubted for a second that he would, but it was still a relief to hear. “I love you so much… And… And that means I can’t be my Father. Father never loved anything, he never cared about anything except for himself. But, I love lots of things, and mostly I love you.” This realization, this awareness now of the warmth and radiant love that he held for Dwight was making him feel so much better. “I’m not like him,” he said once more.
“You’re not,” Dwight agreed. “You aren’t perfect, no one is, but you’re not him. If you were, I wouldn’t be so in love with you.”
They snuggled there quietly for a few more minutes, before Dwight spoke up. “So… Uh, shouldn’t we do something about this thing with Bryce and Karl?”
Kenneth knew that something really had to be done, it killed him that he knew what had been going on and hadn’t stopped it. That was what all of Kenneth’s neighbors had done when he was a child, they’d seen him being hurt and hadn’t done anything. They’d seen him being hurt and had told themselves that what happened inside someone else’s home was none of their business. Or they’d been too frightened of potential consequences to step in— Exactly like how Kenneth was feeling now.
So maybe he wasn’t becoming his Father, but right now he was behaving exactly like the kind of person that had enabled his Father to become such a monster. Something had to be done, Kenneth could keep going above Karl’s head to get someone else to stop him, but evidently when he did that, Karl just thought of some new way to torment people. There were people much, much higher up whom he could report Karl to, but any letter he wrote would take ages to reach its destination, and then it would have to be looked through, discussed, and decided if and how Karl should be disciplined. It would take too long, and it may not even work.
The lesson Kenneth had taken to heart the day he finally had to kill his Father was simple; If he wanted a job done right, he had to do it himself. He could rarely hope to rely on other people to solve a problem, and was usually better off taking matters into his own hands. The other lesson he’d learned was that sometimes, when he took matters into his own hands, the results were not things he would always be proud of.
“We have to handle it,” Kenneth said. “If we send a letter to report him, it will take forever. And who knows what Karl will do to Bryce while we wait for a response? I am… Scared, however.”
“Of Karl?” Dwight asked. “I’ll protect y—“
“Of myself,” Kenneth corrected. “He… Karl makes me think of my Father. A lot. They do not even look similar, but still when I see him, I see my Father. And it makes me want to… I end up feeling like I will blow up.”
Dwight rubbed Kenneth’s back. ‘Karl deserves having you blow up at him,’ he wanted to say. But, the shame that always befell his friend after an outburst… It never mattered to him if the person he’d lost it at had done something to really earn it. “We have to do something, though,” he said. “The thing with the tea… It was harmless. We can do something similar?”
“Clearly that did not dissuade Karl from his bullying,” Kenneth said. “If we do that again, he will just get angrier. It will get worse.”
Dwight had been bullied a lot growing up as well. He was always the smallest child at the orphanage, and he gave in to things too easily. He gave up his food without much of a fight and was content to accept being pushed around. It was not until he’d met Kenneth that that finally changed.
One day, when one of Dwight’s bullies chose to pick on him in front of Kenneth, Kenneth… Lost it. He wailed on the other child, pummeling him and screaming and ultimately knocking out his front teeth. The bully had then run off crying, and he never bothered Dwight again. Nor did anyone else, now too frightened of the angry fire that resided inside his friend to risk igniting it.
Back then, Dwight had thought Kenneth’s display of vicious rage had been great. He’d seen Kenneth as a protective savior. But, Kenneth…
After he’d realized he’d knocked the other kid’s teeth out, he’d stumbled back and began to practically hyperventilate. He’d stared at his hands like they were the most interesting things in the world. He’d been horrified. He’d been horrified of himself.
Before Dwight could even thank him, Kenneth was gripping his shirt, begging “Please, don’t ever let that happen to me again, okay?”
Dwight had been confused by Kenneth’s upset. He’d defended his best friend, that was something to be proud of, wasn’t it? But, then when they got older, when these outbursts kept happening and Kenneth gained the vocabulary he needed to describe exactly what ‘anger’ felt like to him, Dwight understood. Kenneth genuinely felt like something else was taking control of him, something that was destructive, violent and scary.
Dwight knew that Kenneth could put bullies in their places, he’d seen him do it before. But, the way he did it was painful to him and made him hate himself. Dwight tried his best to help Kenneth fight down his anger when it began to overtake him, he could not with a good conscience encourage him to lean into it, could he?
“We can’t just let him keep doing this stuff,” Dwight said.
“I know…” Kenneth agreed. “But, pranking him doesn’t work, and we can’t use violence, and reporting him is too complicated… What CAN we do?”
“Maybe we can get someone else to swap roles with Karl? So there’s a different person in charge of Bryce?”
“Karl wouldn’t do that,” Kenneth said. “And, even if he does, then he’ll just bully some new person. That doesn’t fix anything.”
“Maybe we just need to do something… Bigger than what we did last time?” Dwight gathered, when he felt Kenneth go tense, he added “I don’t mean I want you to go nuts and beat the shit out of him, just… A more intense prank?”
“He’ll get mad, he’ll punish—“
“I’m thinking that, maybe if we REALLY hit him somewhere that it hurts, he’ll finally get it that he shouldn’t mess with us, because he’ll get back even worse than he gives.”
Kenneth did think that was a good plan, and if he could reign in his temper at the sight of Karl’s stupid, ugly face for long enough to pull it off without exploding, then it could work. He was unsure of what to do exactly, though. Making Karl pee his pants hadn’t been enough of a deterrent, it had only stoked his anger. And after it was over, Karl had only embarrassed himself in front of three people whom he had zero respect for, and—
Kenneth was getting an idea.
Maybe Dwight was onto something after all. Maybe they DID need to make Karl wet himself again, except in front of someone that he really wouldn’t be able to handle seeing him that way? Who?
For the next several days, Kenneth thought and thought. Obviously, it needed to be someone Karl respected. DID Karl respect anyone, though? He sure didn’t act like it… He was rude to everyone and constantly acting like he was superior. He never listened to anyone, not even those who were at the same rank as him. The only person Kenneth had ever seen him listen to was Elizabeth.
Hmm…
Kenneth requested to spend time helping in the medical building, just in the hope that something interesting may happen there.
Bryce was still resting up in one of the rooms, so Karl was going in there from time to time to ‘check on him’. Kenneth knew he’d turn up eventually. And, indeed, he did.
And, good Lord was Karl ever obvious!
When Karl spoke to Elizabeth, he would lean in very close to her. He would adjust his collar. He would run his hands through his hair. He’d even unbutton his shirt a bit to expose his chest, remarking on how warm it was inside.
Karl liked Elizabeth.
‘Poor Elizabeth!’ Kenneth thought, but he had his plan now. He was going to orchestrate a situation that resulted in Karl pissing his pants in front of Elizabeth, and he was going to tell the bastard that unless he started behaving like a human, there would be plenty more humiliations to come.
That night, he told Dwight what he’d learned and what they had to do. The only problem now was figuring out HOW to do it. “Karl is unlikely to accept drinks from us again after last time,” he said. “Not without some sort of incentive, anyway.”
Dwight cuddled Kenneth close, dreading what he was about to suggest. He knew it would be very, VERY hard on his friend, but he was the only one that he KNEW could do it. “Well, you know how Karl always acts like he’s all high and mighty? Stronger than everyone?”
“Of course.”
“He… Would not turn down a holding contest…” Dwight said. “A chance to show his strength and superiority compared to a… Uh… Smaller competitor?” Again, he felt his friend go stiff in his arms.
“Are you suggesting that I—“
“Yes,” Dwight said. “Bryce is still sick, and you KNOW I’m not that good at holding it. But, you… You physically CAN’T go in front of Karl, so there is no way you won’t outlast him.”
Kenneth was still tense. Dwight was proposing he use his absolutely atrocious case of shy bladder— the bane to his very existence— as a weapon?
“And, Karl doesn’t know that you HAVE this… Problem,” Dwight said. “You go up to Karl and make a bet with him; If you can beat him in a test of strength, then he has to leave us alone. He’ll take one look at your… ‘size’, and assume it will be an easy win.”
“But, I’ll… End up getting really, really… I’ll have to go super bad. And for a long time,” Kenneth said. “Bryce told me Karl only pissed a couple times a day all those weeks he had him exercising in the fields. He CAN hold a lot.”
“That’s… Why YOU have to do this,” Dwight said. “I seriously DON’T think I can beat him, but I KNOW that you can.”
Kenneth fidgeted in Dwight’s arms. He didn’t like this. He’d done a holding contest once before, yes. But, it had been held inside his room, a place he considered safe, with the restroom he felt most secure in just a few steps away. This would not be the same thing. They’d have to do it outside somewhere so that Elizabeth would be around to witness Karl’s inevitable accident. Getting desperate away from a safe space, and with people nearby, was one of Kenneth’s least favorite things. He couldn’t imagine doing that to himself on purpose. “Dwight…”
“I know,” Dwight said. “It’s going to be very uncomfortable for you. I’m really sorry, I can’t think of another way to do this, though.”
Kenneth knew Dwight was right once again, Kenneth knew that he really was the only person that could do this. He just wished he didn’t need to.
The next day, the plan was set in motion. Dwight went to get Elizabeth and explained what was happening, omitting a few details. “Elizabeth,” he said. “Kenneth thinks he knows how to get Karl to leave Bryce alone. He’s making a bet with him, but… Oh, I’m really worried!”
“What’s the matter? What’s the bet?”
“If Kenneth can prove to Karl that he’s stronger than him, Karl has to stop picking on Bryce,” Dwight said. “And, the way he wants to prove that is with… Um… A pee-holding contest. And I don’t want Kenneth to hurt himself!” he added. “Could you watch, just to keep on eye on him and make sure he’s alright?”
Elizabeth didn’t like this idea at all. Kenneth really COULD hurt himself doing this… Karl could as well, she supposed. But in all honesty, after seeing the state he’d left Bryce in, she wouldn’t be too broken up about that. At the same time, though, she was pretty sure this was the only ‘test of strength’ Kenneth could possibly beat Karl in. And, if it got Karl to stop, then maybe it would be worth it. “I’ll watch,” she said. “Where are they doing this?”
Kenneth, meanwhile, was in Karl’s office. Earlier that morning, Kenneth had waited until the last possible second to pee before he’d left his room. Even after his stream had ceased, he kept standing there, squeezing hard against his muscles and trying to get out every last drop he had in him. He was dreading this. It was bad enough to get desperate unexpectedly, to do it on purpose and while in the presence of someone that was so much like his Father was sure to be abysmal.
“You know,” Karl said. “It is customary to knock on the door before you barge in here.”
Christ, his voice even sounded like Father’s! “I want you to leave Bryce alone,” Kenneth stated.
“I will,” Karl said calmly. “He’s learned his lesson, unless he messes up again I won’t be bothering him much more. Right now, it’s time for you and your friend to pay up.”
Kenneth hadn’t known that Karl had planned to do something to Dwight too, and the news made something stir inside his chest. Like his heart was caught up in a tornado. Nobody was allowed to hurt Dwight. Nobody. Kenneth’s fingers twitched, aching to curl themselves into a fist. ‘Calm… Calm…’ he ordered himself. ‘Focus…’ He breathed out very slowly, but the swirling chaos inside his chest didn’t fade.
It took a few seconds for Kenneth to remember Karl had also said he intended to harm HIM as well. For some reason, that part wasn’t as painful for him to hear, Karl could do whatever he wanted to him, just leave Dwight alone. And when he realized that, Kenneth felt a strange hint of calm. This was one more way he was not like his Father; Kenneth was able to put someone else’s comfort and safety before his own. “I— I wanted to make a deal with you,” he said finally.
Karl leaned back in his chair, “I don’t care what you have to offer me, you can’t get out of—“
“A bet,” Kenneth said. “If I can outlast you in a test of strength, you have to behave civilly to myself, my friends, and everyone else here.”
Karl snorted. A ‘test of strength’, right. He looked at Kenneth’s meager height, his toothpick thin noodle-arms, the way he’d been shaking and struggling to breathe the whole time he’d been in this room as if Karl’s very existence was too intimidating for him to bear. “And when I win?”
“If… If you win…” Kenneth tried to think of something Karl would want, but he could only come up with one thing. “Then… You can do that, um, that water-chugging drill thing to me.”
Karl chuckled, he’d been overwhelmed with curiosity ever since Bryce had insisted to him that Kenneth was not to be put through that punishment. Now he was going to get to wipe the floor with this tiny pissant’s ass AND see what happened when Kenneth was subjected to that drill? To say he felt ‘excited’ would be an understatement. “What’s the test?” he asked.
“A…” Kenneth grimaced. “A ‘holding contest’,” he said. “We drink a lot of water, and the first to… Uh, ‘relieve himself’ is the loser. This was Elizabeth’s idea,” he added as an afterthought, assuming it would help to get Karl on board.
Karl did not question why Elizabeth would suggest they do such a thing, he only thought of what an easy win this was sure to be. Even if Bryce had stubbornly refused to name Kenneth’s medical condition, it was obvious that it had something to do with urination. Looking at the tiny, feeble man twitch and shift like a frightened chihuahua, Karl had a feeling that Kenneth had some kind of issue with bladder control. Possibly, his bladder was overactive, and he struggled with ‘making it’ in time. He was likely the kind of person that ‘leaked’ when scared and didn’t always wake up dry. Kenneth was so puny, it stood to reason that his bladder would be puny as well.
Karl was positive that all of this would be over before HE even felt a need to go at all, and then he’d get to torment Kenneth for an entire day, forcing him to wet his pants over and over and over again until he felt as humiliated as Karl had that day at the barn. “Alright,” Karl said. “Where do you want to do this?”
***
Kenneth chose to do it out in the field. Kenneth knew it was the best place for it, because it was the absolute WORST place for HIM to be when he had to go. It was flat, barren and with absolutely nothing for him to hide behind. It was an hour’s walk from his barrack and from the nice, safe toilet that he could easily use. It was a spot that offered Kenneth no easy solution, no way to back out, no way to give in… And so it was the perfect spot for him to be if he wanted to be damn sure he didn’t go until after Karl already had.
He just tried not to think about what he was going to do AFTER the contest had concluded; At which point, Kenneth knew, he’d be so painfully desperate for a piss that taking a long walk to his private restroom would feel more like crawling over hot coals in the depths of Hell. He hoped that, perhaps, Karl would lose it and flood his pants before Kenneth got into THAT dire a state, but he knew that was a pretty empty hope.
Dwight had brought along the water jugs and handed one each to Karl and Kenneth. Elizabeth stood beside him, “Now be careful, okay boys? If it is starting to hurt, you need to stop right away. And, Kenneth, it is VERY open out here, are you sure this is the best place? I don’t want your ‘prob—‘ Oh!” she gasped as Dwight nudged her in the arm.
Elizabeth turned to him and Dwight tried to communicate with her using just his eyes. He could actually do that with Kenneth pretty well, he could shoot Kenneth a glance and a lot of the time Kenneth would just KNOW what he wanted without either of them needing to say a word.
It wasn’t working as well with Elizabeth; She had no idea what Dwight wanted. But, she DID remember Bryce warning her not to let Karl know about Kenneth’s condition, so she kept quiet.
The contest began, Karl and Kenneth both guzzled down the first jugs of water and began to wait. Karl was surprised that Kenneth lasted until Dwight said it was time to drink the next jug. Karl was even more surprised that the scrawny man wasn’t yet doing a childish pee-dance. ‘Maybe he dehydrated himself before this,’ Karl figured. ‘Probably didn’t drink anything at all yesterday, that’s why it’s not hitting him already. He had time to prepare.’
To most of the world, it really didn’t look like Kenneth had to use the toilet yet. To Dwight though, it looked like Kenneth’s bladder must have been getting pretty uncomfortable. Kenneth’s pinky was in his mouth, being chewed on like a hungry dog would gnaw at a bone.
Dwight widened his eyes at his friend and turned up his eyebrows, trying his very best to convey the words ‘I’m really sorry! Hang in there! It will be worth it!’
Indeed, Kenneth was starting to feel an urge to pee. All that water running through his veins, all of it beginning to converge in the same place… He could feel his need building at a fast rate, but was determined not to let on that he was beginning to REALLY wish that he was locked away inside of his restroom right now. He saw Dwight give him that caring, concerned look, and he felt better. ‘You HAVE to do this,’ he reminded himself. ‘Karl wants to HURT Dwight.’
He wasn’t even desperate yet, nowhere near the point that he’d even consider giving in to his bladder’s irritating, little tingles. He could hold this, he could easily hold this. He just had to stop thinking about how much water he’d drank, how much liquid was still heading for his bladder, how much worse this was bound to get before it got even the tiniest smidge better.
Karl was also starting to feel it, a definite pressure around the base of his cock; a pulsing, little throb of need. Typically, this would be around the time he’d start thinking about whether or not he should head for the restroom or if he should hold off a while longer to finish something else. He was actually surprised Kenneth had held it in long enough for Karl’s bladder to fill up at all. So, the little irritation was slightly stronger than Karl had thought, it seemed. He crossed one ankle over the other, relieving the pangs inside his bladder slightly. It was embarrassing to squirm like that, but he was sure Kenneth must have been making an even bigger fool out of himself by now.
Karl turned slightly to look at Kenneth again, expecting to see him doubling over on the edge of an accident, but… No. Karl instead noted, with an embarrassing amount of dismay, that Kenneth was still standing up straight. His legs hadn’t even crossed yet, nor was he jiggling. One hand remained hanging at his side, the other up at his mouth, neither clutching between his legs like Karl had assumed they would be.
Karl whipped his head back around. How was Kenneth still so… So… Okay? ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Karl told himself. So, Kenneth was a tiny, teeny, itty-bitty, teensy-weensy bit more capable of self-control than Karl had assumed. So what? That was no reason to get worked up.
But, a part of Karl was getting worked up. It was getting REALLY worked up. The throbbing, urgent cries from inside his bladder were getting louder. His bladder couldn’t understand why he wasn’t letting it release right now. He was outdoors after all, he should just whip it out and go right where he was. Hell, he decided that Elizabeth would probably love the view, too.
“Everyone feeling okay?” Elizabeth asked.
Kenneth nodded. “I— I could… I could wait all day,” he said. And he knew that he could. If they stayed out here, in this field, with both Elizabeth and Karl beside him all day long, then Kenneth’s bladder really would remain clenched and closed the entire time. He hoped that it didn’t last that long, but he’d been doing his best NOT to look at Karl— The very sight of him made fire-balls fizz through Kenneth’s bloodstream. And, since he was pointedly NOT watching his opponent, he wasn’t getting a good idea of how close he was to breaking.
Kenneth was getting a little worried now. His need had been steadily amplifying at first, but for the last several minutes it had felt like entire buckets of water were being dumped into his bladder every few seconds. His urge to urinate was building up so quickly now that it was frightening. He’d been shifting his hips nonstop for a while now. But, he couldn’t give up. “I could… I could wait until tomorrow,” he added, and his bladder screamed and throbbed at the thought of it.
“Oh, SURE you could…” Karl chortled out a laugh, unintentionally rocking the walls of his own bladder, forcing him to squeeze his thighs together and give a little bounce.
“I could,” Kenneth said, debating if he should say more. Karl’s arrogant tone was really starting to piss him off. Father had acted smug sometimes too, when he mocked Kenneth for crying while being whipped or when he told Kenneth delusional, and no doubt completely fabricated, stories about all the women he’d spent nights with. All the times he’d heard Father spout off and act superior, when really he was a cowardly worm, Kenneth had wished that there was something HE could say that would intimidate him.
Kenneth DID have one thing he could mention now that could intimidate Karl… “I could,” he repeated, swaying a little from foot to foot without noticing. “I held it for an entire day once before, actually. My record is twenty three hours,” he added, trying to sound modest. It felt strange to him, treating one of the worst days of his life-- a day in which his body had completely betrayed him, as some kind of accomplishment. But when he flicked his eyes over to Karl, he saw worry flash across the other man’s face for a second. Only for a second. If Kenneth hadn’t been specifically searching it out, it would have surely flown right by him.
“Bullshit,” Karl said after a moment. The arrogance was still there in his tone, but something about it rang hollow.
Kenneth, now rocking from side to side as his thighs tensed, looked back towards Dwight. He narrowed his eyes, knit his brow.
Dwight understood. Kenneth wanted him to back him up. “Oh, he did,” Dwight said. “It hurt a lot, but he did it.”
“Bullshit…” Karl said once more, softer this time. That couldn’t possibly be true, could it? Nobody could hold it for that long. They’d be dead, surely. Kenneth was just trying to get in his head. The pint-sized excuse for a man may not have been strong, but Karl knew he was at least a little clever. That’s all this was, a mind-game, telling Karl all sorts of lies so he’d think he’d made a mistake agreeing to this. He was trying to make Karl second-guess himself, trying to trick him into giving up early.
Well, he had another thing coming. Karl wasn’t going to fall for this. No matter HOW good a piss would feel right now, he was NOT going to let himself lose. But… Wow, would a piss feel good right about now. The subtle pressure he’d been enduring just a few minutes ago had quickly transformed into fiery, urgent pangs. His urethral opening tingled slightly with the urge to let it all spray out, and his hand kept instinctively reaching for his zip, as if to pull it down so that he could go.
“Time for more water,” Dwight announced, grabbing the last of the jugs.
Kenneth unscrewed the cap on his jug. His bladder quivered inside him as he gazed down at its opening. He tensed his thighs. Two big jugs still working through him, one more about to be added… And already he was getting really uncomfortable. ‘You have to…’ he told himself. ‘You can do this… Do it for Dwight, okay? Karl hurts Dwight if you don’t win the bet, remember?’
Kenneth raised the jug to his lips and began to swallow its contents. His body protested his action violently, chills went up his spine as he gulped down more and more water. His bladder began to ache and throb as if all the water was flowing right down into it the instant he’d swallowed. His feet started to shift as he guzzled away, his abdomen felt rock hard, his belt squeezing against it much too firmly to be tolerable. ‘Ohh, I need to relieve myself…’ he thought miserably. ‘I need to go soon… Ah, the walk back is so long… I’ll never—‘
He tossed the now empty jug to the side and tried to reign his runaway thoughts back in. ‘No,’ he ordered himself. ‘Don’t think about that. Think about how you need to keep Dwight safe. Think about how you need to stop Karl. Don’t think about peeing at all. Don’t think about peeing. Don’t think about peeing. Don’t think about how… How freaking GOOD it would feel to PEE right now— Ah—! Stop…’
Kenneth bounced frantically on the spot, the action only making the excessive amount of liquid he’d just forced into himself slosh around more and more. He made himself stop, wound his legs together instead and stared up at the sky. He tried to picture himself with wings, flying around up there. If he had wings he could get back to his barrack really fast. If he had wings, he could be peeing in just a couple minutes, and—
Stop!
He… He just had to go so bad! His belt was too tight! That was it! His belt was squeezing his bladder so much that it was making him go insane! He couldn’t handle that anymore, he had to— He had to— His hands dove down to his belt and yanked it apart, immediately the agonizing ‘Gotta go NOW!’ urgency in his core began to die down as his bladder was granted a bit more space. God, that was better! It was such a relief to have that tight, squeezing thing gone that he sighed a little “Ahhh…”
Karl hadn’t yet taken a sip from his jug, he’d been watching Kenneth fidget and writhe as he struggled to chug down his own. Yeah, it was bullshit that Kenneth had ever held his bladder for an entire day. Total bullshit. He was about to go in his pants any second now, Karl knew. When he heard Kenneth sigh like that, he was sure he HAD, and was a little disappointed that no stream was gushing from between his opponents tightly crossed legs.
Which meant Karl hadn’t won yet. Which meant he had to actually drink this third jug of water. He grimaced, his bladder surging within him. ‘Please, no more!’ it seemed to beg him. But, he didn’t listen to its cries. He was in control of his bladder, not the other way around. And, if he said it was time for it to accommodate more water, then it was ITS job to find room for it all.
He began to drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each heavy swallow. God… There was so much fluid in him right now. He was surprised he hadn’t turned into a fish yet. His organs all must have been spontaneously rearranging themselves to give all this new water a place to go. Every time he gulped down another mouth-full, the stinging pain in his pee-hole would grow more intense, more agonizing, more needling. His entire body was begging him, demanding that he stop whatever madness he was forcing it to endure and just PEE already.
But, Karl didn’t listen to it. He was sure that Kenneth was JUST about to explode, he only had to hold out a few minutes longer. Once he’d drained the jug and had tossed it away, his hands gripped onto the bottom of his shirt without his consent— Dangerously close to cupping his crotch. Then, worse still, he felt… Warmth. Not around his dick from a loss of control, thank goodness. But… Around his face, from what was surely a furious blush, and that was almost as bad.
He was… Squirming and fidgeting and writhing like a little kid, and Elizabeth was watching him! This was HUMILIATING. This wasn’t what was SUPPOSED to have happened at all. Kenneth was supposed to have pissed himself so early in the game that Karl never even managed to feel the slightest HINT of desperation. Kenneth was NOT supposed to have held on for so long that Karl was doing a full-blown pee dance, very nearly holding his cock, and actually kind of… Worrying about whether or not he could make it.
Karl looked back at Kenneth, and wanted to SCREAM when he saw how much calmer he was now that his belt wasn’t hurting him anymore. Kenneth was still jiggling, he was still crossing and uncrossing his legs at a ferocious speed that made Karl wonder if he was going to accidentally kick himself or something, but that panicked flush on his face was GONE. He swore, the bastard actually managed to look confident, even as he bounced and twisted around on himself.
And all of that made Karl absolutely FURIOUS.
How DARE he? How very DARE he present this challenge to Karl, looking all feeble and tiny and worthless, only to then have the GALL not to lose immediately like a more polite inferior man would? Karl would show him, if he wanted a challenge, he was going to get one.
Kenneth was GOING to piss his pants today, and he was GOING to do it VERY soon, Karl was gonna make DAMNED sure of that.
Kenneth, facing away from Karl, had no idea that his opponent was now so angry with him. He was lost in his own little world, a world filled with waterfalls and flushing toilets and rainstorms. He stomped his feet against the grass, crossed his legs once again and doubled over on himself. Both of his hands were in his mouth now, being bitten raw and red. He wanted to hold himself. He really, really wanted to hold himself. He needed to pee so bad!
‘Ohhh,’ he thought. ‘I need to go, I need to relieve myself… I really, really, really have to…’ He’d tried, repeatedly, to redirect his thoughts elsewhere. He’d tried to focus on his mission ‘Your aim here is to help your friends, remember?’ he told himself. But, after he’d thought the word ‘aim’ he couldn’t stop thinking about how terribly good it would feel to be ‘aiming’ a powerful jet of urine into a toilet right now, and then he was back to his only partially coherent mental rambling about how bad he needed a piss. ‘I need to pee… Please, I can’t do this much longer. I really need to go. I need to go so bad.’
He glanced up for a second, watery eyes landing on Dwight’s face. ‘I am going to explode!’ he tried to tell him. ‘How much longer?!’
Dwight gave Kenneth a sympathetic half-smile. He wished he could go over there and comfort his obviously miserable friend, but he thought better of it. Dwight’s comfort had the magical power to make Kenneth’s bladder empty itself out, after all. It would be just awful if, by holding his friend’s hand, or whispering to him that it was okay, or anything like that, he made Kenneth calm down a little TOO much.
“Is everyone still feeling okay?” Elizabeth asked suddenly.
‘No,’ Kenneth thought. ‘I’m bursting, and Karl still hasn’t pissed, and I still have to walk all the way back… It’s too much…’
‘No,’ Karl thought. ‘I really need to go, and I’m fucking furious, and if Kenneth doesn’t hurry up and piss his pants I might not… I might…’
But even so, both competitors nodded and insisted they were fine.
Karl was well and truly fed up. He was uncomfortable as Hell, Elizabeth was watching him debase himself and behave like a child, and Kenneth still hadn’t had the decency to admit that he was doomed to lose and give up. He had to do something to move things along.
So, he did.
He approached Kenneth, removed one hand from where it was still tugging at his shirt, and pressed the flat of his palm against Kenneth’s middle. Karl froze, even his urgent bouncing ceasing as he felt a boom of shock careen through his chest. Beneath his hand, Kenneth’s skin was pulled taut against a harsh, firm boulder. It felt like he was gripping a ripe melon about to break open.
Kenneth reacted instantly to the new increase in pressure; his bladder felt like it was being crumpled to bits in someone’s fist, and the horrid back pain that Kenneth sometimes got when he was so desperate for a piss that he felt like he was dying immediately appeared. The space on his back beneath his ribs felt like it was being trampled on by a herd of stampeding buffalo. Kenneth moaned loudly, almost yelping as tears came to his eyes. His legs tangled over each other, crossed at the knees and the ankles, all while he wailed “SHIT! OH MY GOD! STOP!!”
“Hey,” Elizabeth snapped. “No! No touching each other.”
Karl dropped his hand away from Kenneth’s body and Kenneth fought to catch his breath. His own hands tore out of his mouth and zoomed straight between his legs, squeezing and gripping and doing everything he could think of to lessen the pain he now felt right in the tip of his cock.
That was… Holy SHIT, that was one of the worst things Kenneth had ever felt in his life. Even though it had lasted just a couple seconds, he was certain that he’d remember that agonizing sensation for the rest of his life. It was sure to haunt his nightmares forever now.
Dwight, again, wanted to run to his friend and hold him, but didn’t want to risk causing him to have an accident. He hated seeing Kenneth in so much pain, and his chest clenched as he watched Kenneth suck in tiny gasps of air while he tried to recover himself.
“No touching each other,” Elizabeth repeated. “Either of you do something like that again, and we’re going to stop, I mean it.” She turned, and her voice softened. “Kenneth, sweetie? Are you okay? If you need to quit after that—“
“I…” Kenneth choked out. “I can keep going. I’m alright, I promise.”
Karl’s heart plummeted when Kenneth insisted that he could continue. He’d been sure that his last action would leave Kenneth standing in a puddle. He remembered the feeling of that round, hard protrusion in Kenneth’s middle. That had… Been his bladder, surely?
What the Hell!? How could he still be holding it when his bladder was so grotesquely full that it was trying to tear itself right through his skin!? Was Kenneth not human, was that it!? Was he a member of some weird alien race made up of short, scrawny humanoids with bottomless bladders?
Was… Did Karl have a bump like that too? He unclasped his own belt, and had to admit that Kenneth had had the right idea with that. It DID make him feel a lot better. He lifted up his shirt and glanced down. Sure enough, his own abdomen was also sporting a bulge, his pants pulled tight around it. Shocked that something like THAT could really be inside of his own body, Karl poked it curiously.
“AH!” Karl gasped sharply. His finger felt like a sword, horribly sharp and painful. He crossed his legs back and forth and twisted and writhed as he rode out the worst spasm of his life. He was worried now. He really was. He’d had to pee badly a whole lot of times, but he didn’t think he’d ever gotten… swollen before. He also was pretty sure this was, by far, the worst need for the bathroom he’d ever experienced. It was even worse than the day he’d pissed himself at the barn, by quite a bunch.
This had to end. He had to make it end.
Elizabeth had said no touching, so squeezing Kenneth until he finally popped like a balloon would not be allowed. He’d have to use his words to make Kenneth explode instead. “Kenneth,” Karl said.
Kenneth still did not turn to face him, and that ticked Karl off too. This whole time, Kenneth had barely looked at him. The disrespect was nauseating.
“Kenneth,” Karl repeated.
“What?” Kenneth squeaked out. Talking was so painful right now… The vibrations of his vocal cords were rocking his bladder fiercely, and he NEEDED to go so bad…
“Don’t you want to pee yet?” Karl asked tauntingly.
What an asinine question, Kenneth thought. Of course he wanted to pee. He wanted to pee more than he’d ever wanted anything. He’d just drank three huge jugs of water in under an hour, if he DIDN’T want to pee after that, then he’d have something seriously wrong with him. The question was so idiotic that Kenneth didn’t even dignify it with an answer.
“Wouldn’t it feel good to let it out now?”
Again, an utterly ridiculous question. Was this Karl’s attempt at teasing him into releasing his piss? Well, that sure as Hell wasn’t going to work on him. If all it took to make him pee was someone asking him if he wanted to, then his life would be a whole Hell of a lot easier. “Wow, I don’t know Karl. Do YOU want to take a piss?”
“No,” Karl said. “Of course not, I’m a lot stronger than you.”
Wow. More horseshit, Kenneth thought.
“And, you remember what happens if you piss, right?” Karl went on. “If you relax for just a second and let all that water come flowing on out of you?” He chewed on his lip, he sure hoped his words were hitting Kenneth where it hurt, because they were sure hitting him. “If you piss, there’s gonna be all Hell to pay.”
***
“If you piss, there’s gonna be all Hell to pay, you little shit!” Father shouted. “You’d better fucking hold it! You hold your water until I say!”
“Please!” Kenneth sobbed, hands between his coiled legs. “I can’t! I need to go!”
“You don’t NEED anything!” Father yelled. “What you ‘need’ is to shut the FUCK up and stop complaining.”
Kenneth tried to stay quiet, he really did. But, his insides all hurt so badly, and he felt some of his pee already coming out! “Father, I— Please? I can’t hold it… Please, let me go? I promise I’ll be good.”
“You’re already not being good!” Father barked. “I told you to shut up, and you didn’t. I told you to move your fucking hands, and you didn’t. You never behave yourself.”
Kenneth tried to move his hands, and he managed to get them out from the spot between his thighs for a second, but then he was peeing a whole bunch and so he had to put them back!
Father glanced down at the tiny puddle Kenneth had just made and scowled. “And NOW you’re pissing even though I told you you’re not allowed to! God, can’t you listen?”
“I can’t help it,” Kenneth said, beginning to cry. “It won’t stay in. I’m trying to be good, but it comes out.”
“Well, MAKE it stay in,” Father said. “Because if I see you piss your pants one more fucking time, I swear…”
“Why can’t I use the toilet, then?” Kenneth asked. Even after so many years of this, he still could not understand. Father got mad when he had accidents, but he only had accidents because Father didn’t let him use the restroom when he really, really had to go. What was his Father expecting to have happen? Why was it so bad for Kenneth to go pee when he was bursting?
When Mother was alive, and whenever he was with her, if he just said the words, “Mother, I need to pass water,” then Mother would take him to a restroom right away and let him use it. No problems, no shouting, no begging, no accidents. When he was REALLY small she’d even praised him and called him a good boy for letting her know what he needed to do before he had an accident, and for using the polite phrase that she’d told him to use.
So, he knew that Mother didn’t think peeing made him bad…
Now, when he was with Dwight, if he shyly told him “I… Uh… I need to relieve myself, okay?” then Dwight would find him somewhere he was comfortable with and help him relax so he could go. And Dwight always told him that it wasn’t a problem and he didn’t mind.
So, Dwight didn’t think it was bad, either.
A few times he’d arrived to the orphanage already bursting to go, and one of the nuns in charge would answer the door for him. He felt weird saying anything to them about needing the bathroom, but he was always so squirmy that they’d know what he needed just by looking at him. And they wouldn’t yell, they wouldn’t say “You disgusting little shit, move your fucking hands and stop jumping around like an idiot.” No. They’d say “Oh, poor dear. Do you need to use the restroom before you play with your friend? Right this way…” And then he’d be able to pee.
So, the nuns also didn’t think it was bad…
Only Father said that going to pee, or NEEDING to pee, meant that Kenneth was filthy and uncontrollable and terrible. But… Why? It confused Kenneth so much that it made him angry and frustrated. “I have to go!” Kenneth snapped at his Father. “If you don’t want me to go on the floor, then you HAVE to let me go in the toilet, it’s going to come out!”
“Don’t… Don’t you fucking talk back to me, you little bastard,” Father said. “Fine. Go piss, but when you get back I’m going to make you regret the day you were born.”
Kenneth scurried off to the restroom. He already regretted being born. He always did. If this was the life he was going to have to live forever, he knew he would have been better off never existing to begin with. He made it to the restroom okay, he got the lid and seat of the toilet up, he got his shorts unbuttoned, but then…
Father hadn’t followed him.
But Kenneth still couldn’t go.
This… Thing. Whatever it was… It was getting worse. And Kenneth was scared.
***
Kenneth shook his head, trying to clear the images from his mind’s eye. ‘That’s not real,’ he reminded himself. ‘It’s over now. Focus on the present. Focus on… On… Oh, my GOD I need to go!’ His thighs were twitching, straining around his clasped hands. He felt like one well placed tap would make him explode.
Karl was still speaking threats to him, still making him think of his Father, still making those strange nightmares-but-not-nightmares try to overtake his field of vision, still making him feel like he was tumbling through time… All of it making it much, much harder for him to withstand the thrashing pressure inside his bladder as his anxious grip on his length grew tighter and tighter.
Karl was JUST like Father. He was EXACTLY like Father. Kenneth hadn’t become Father, Karl had! Except, Karl didn’t even have the excuse of only turning into a demon because he’d had the misfortune of being raised by one. Karl was a demon just because he COULD be a demon! He was—
Karl was so much like Kenneth’s Father, that Kenneth wondered if maybe he actually SHOULD try remembering things about his dad in order to get through this situation.
Father liked to drink, of course. And he drank a lot. And, even if Kenneth did not like alcohol, he still knew that it went straight through a person. He’d actually seen his Father desperate for a piss lots of times growing up, and yes, he’d even seen his Father have accidents.
A lot of those accidents were because Father had REALLY had too much to drink, and then he’d either passed out or been so out of it that he didn’t notice he was pissing until he was drenched. That wouldn’t work on Karl since they were just drinking water, though.
But, there were other things that had made Father pee his pants. Sometimes he’d be stumbling home from a friend’s house and not be able to wait through the whole walk, the sun would be out so he couldn’t go between buildings, and he’d flood his pants. Sometimes, after locking the bathroom door to torment Kenneth, he’d misplace the key and end up having an accident of his own— Kenneth always had to try extra hard not to smile when that happened.
But, the thing that made Father wet himself most often was laughter. And the thing Father found most hilarious was, of course, someone else’s suffering. Kenneth could remember several times where Father had doubled over, yucking it up as Kenneth cried in pain, pleaded for mercy, or begged him for the toilet. And, sometimes, Father would laugh so hard that he’d just GO.
He knew that Karl must have been the same way, because Karl was exactly like his Father.
Kenneth knew what he had to do. He wasn’t going to like it, it was going to be very, VERY embarrassing, and the sound of Karl’s laughter was likely to flood him with painfully hot rage. But, he knew this was the answer. Shy, easily flustered, self-conscious Kenneth would gladly humiliate himself if it helped keep Karl from harming one hair on Dwight’s head.
Because, Kenneth was NOT his Father.
Kenneth stopped fighting back his body’s natural urge to kneel down, he stopped trying to prevent his tears from falling, he allowed himself to twist and squirm and writhe as ridiculously as his bladder wanted him to. And, then he made himself speak.
Speaking was still a very difficult task for Kenneth, every word he choked out made thunderous roars of pressure teem through his bloated bladder. And, the exact words he was forcing himself to say aloud made him feel so embarrassed that he wished aliens would appear and zap him to a distant, far away planet. “Ohhhh,” he moaned, not needing to exaggerate the agonized sound at all— He really WAS in a lot of pain. “I need to peeeeeee…. I need to pee soooo baaaaaaad!”
Karl turned and looked at Kenneth, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Alright, now they were getting somewhere. He’d been really worried for a while, but now it was clear that they were reaching the end. Kenneth was on his knees in the grass, curled up on himself, holding his dick for dear life as tears streamed down his face. Karl DID smile when Kenneth looked up at him with those big, watery eyes, filled with needy urgency. “Aww,” Karl cooed. “Looks like somebody can’t hold it!”
“I caaaaan’t,” Kenneth exclaimed, bouncing up and down where he knelt. “I need to peeeeeeee!”
Dwight watched all this unfold and his eyes widened as his heart pounded wildly. This… This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. It HAD been a long time, and it HAD been a lot of water, but… Kenneth wasn’t supposed to end up… like… that. He hadn’t seen Kenneth this upset in a long time, the pain his friend was in was blatantly obvious. ‘Oh my God…’ he thought. This had been too much. It had been a bad plan. He NEVER should have talked Kenneth into this! Now his friend was HURT very badly and it was all his fault, and Karl WASN’T going to learn his lesson, or back off, or anything.
Dwight had fucked up.
He’d fucked up hard.
“Kenneth—“ Dwight began. “We can—“
Kenneth turned his head a little so he was looking only at Dwight, then very slightly, almost imperceptibly, he shook it.
Dwight ceased his protestations. ‘I’ve got this,’ was what Kenneth had been trying to tell him. ‘Trust me.’
Kenneth looked back up at Karl. “I need to pee soooo bad!” he kept ranting. “I can’t possibly hold it anymore! It’s going to come out! I need to go so much! Please, please just give up now, please?”
A snort erupted from Karl’s nose. How utterly pathetic… “No,” he said. “We had a deal. Not my fault that you can’t handle yourself.”
“Ohhhh,” Kenneth groaned, tipping his head backwards, and pressing his hands even more firmly into his groin. “But, Karl! I— Please, I have NEVER had to go this bad! I’m going to explode! But, I really want you to leave my friends and I alone! Please, just go now so I can win? Have mercy on me!”
More laughter was Karl’s only response. The sight was such a comical one to behold, the man that had masterminded his ultimate humiliation at the barn all those months ago, coming apart at the seams and PLEADING with him to be merciful. Karl didn’t even know the MEANING of the word ‘mercy’.
“Ooooohhhh,” Kenneth grunted. “Please, Karl! I’m— I can’t hold it much longer! It’s practically coming out of me! I need to pee so, so, so bad! Please, please, just… Please? I’m going to explode if you don’t!”
This was too much! Karl’s loud, hysterical shouts of amusement began to make his sides hurt! He doubled over on himself, cackling so much that he could barely breathe. “Pfft! Oh my god!” he exclaimed. “And I thought Bryce was pathetic! You, though— Hahahaha— I don’t even know WHAT to call you!”
“Call me whatever you want!” Kenneth exclaimed, now trying to wedge a heel against his crotch as well. “Just… Just let me pee! I need to! I need to so much! It’s so bad! If I don’t pee soon, I’ll die!”
Karl felt like HE was the one dying! His laughing was leaving him dizzy! He could hardly tell which was up anymore! All he could register now was the sheer comedic entertainment of his present moment, the ache in his sides, the strain it took for him to catch his breath, the hot, moist feeling that was forming around his cock, and—
Karl’s laughter died in his throat, his eyes flicked down to see that his pants were quickly growing saturated, buckets of pee flooding into them. “Ah—!” he gasped, barely able to process what was happening to him. He strained his thighs, trying to stop the flow, but the damage was done, his bladder had burst. There was no way to plug up his leak now.
Kenneth wasn’t whining and moaning anymore, either, and that gave Karl a second horrible realization; It had merely been an act. Kenneth hadn’t truly been begging him for anything; Anything other than his laughter, anyway.
And then there was… Elizabeth. She was there. She was watching… Watching Karl as he lost control and had an accident like a toddler. This was worse than the day at the barn because this time he was doing it in front of someone he actually cared about impressing, AND he’d done it while trying to show off how strong he was, at that!
“Oh,” Elizabeth said. She knew she ought to have had some words of comfort for Karl now. If it was anyone else, she definitely would have had something kind to say. “It’s okay, accidents happen”, “It’s alright, you just really needed to go”, or “Just let it out, don’t hurt yourself anymore.” But, Karl was… Karl. And he’d tormented Bryce so much and for so long that he’d been laying in bed for several days trying to recover. Karl wasn’t injured, nor was he sick, he was just pissing his pants. And Elizabeth couldn’t dredge up even the foggiest drop of sympathy for him, nor did she have any obligation to.
Dwight was relieved when he saw Karl finally burst. He knew now that he was probably going to have to… Pick Kenneth up and run with him as fast as he could back to their barrack. But, hopefully Kenneth would think it was all worth it after Dwight finally set him down in front of their toilet and he was able to let go of everything he’d determinedly held back today. The plan had worked out, Karl was humiliated in front of someone whom he’d never want to have see him this way, and the bet had been won. Karl was going to have to leave them alone.
Kenneth was trying even harder not to look at Karl now than ever before. The sight of those long rivulets of pale yellow urine gushing down the man’s pant-legs, the sound of his geyser hissing and spraying… Kenneth may not have been begging in earnest before, but now it took a concentrated effort for him not to legitimately cry out “HURRY UP! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” at him.
Once Karl had finally stopped gushing, Elizabeth spoke. “Well… Kenneth, you win. Karl, go clean up.”
And that was that. She started to walk back in the direction she’d come from.
Karl watched her go, then whipped his head back around to face Kenneth. “Piss,” he growled under his breath. “Now.”
Kenneth shakily got to his feet, but was unable to pull himself into a fully upright stance. His hands stayed glued around his dick. “I’m not going to wet myself for you,” he said with as much authority as he could muster. “And, you’d better honor our agreement from the bet,” he added. “You’d best not pick on me, my friends, or anyone else here again. Because…” he bit back a wincing, pained noise that would have surely made his threat sound a lot less fierce. “I hope now you’ve learned what happens when someone messes with me or someone I care about. Don’t think I won’t set you up again, I’ll do it as many times as it takes.”
“What makes you think I’ll ever trust you again?”
“I don’t,” Kenneth said, his feet stomping hard into the grass as he rushed the last words out. “But, you don’t know who I know, you don’t know who I can get to do the dirty work FOR me. Either stop your shit, or you’ll never know who’s going to embarrass you next.”
Karl struggled for a second, but didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, as he simply turned around and began the long, damp trudge back from the field.
Dwight watched him go, then stepped closer to Kenneth and whispered to him. “Um… Kenneth, you don’t HAVE any… People working for you to ‘do the dirty work’…”
“Yes, but he doesn’t know that,” Kenneth said.
“Oh,” Dwight said. “Clever… So—“
Before Dwight could say anything else, Kenneth was leaning into him, his body almost vibrating from how fast he was jiggling. “Oh, sweet merciful Christ, Dwight! I need to GO!”
Dwight tried not to smile, “I— I know, Kenneth,” he said. “Let’s… You want me to carry you back or something?”
Kenneth shook his head, if… If he ended up… Not being able to make it… “I— I can’t hold it,” he said. “I’m seriously—“ He curled one ankle around the other. “You don’t even— Seriously, Dwight. I am BURSTING right now.”
“I know,” Dwight said once more. “Why did you pick THIS of all places?”
“B—Because I knew I wouldn’t be able to give up here even if I REALLY wanted to,” Kenneth winced out. “Ahhh— But it lasted a lot longer than I thought it would, and— Dear GOD! I need the restroom so bad!” He felt so much more comfortable around Dwight than he did around others that he didn’t shy away too much from vocalizing his agony. “Seriously, I feel like I’ve got about ten minutes before I just… Explode.”
Dwight glanced around. He understood what Kenneth meant about ‘not being able to give up’ here, but now that he was in such a bad state, he couldn’t think of a worse place for Kenneth to be stuck. “Okay,” he said. “It’s… Just us, I know you’ve never been able to go out here, but—“
“I— I did once,” Kenneth said.
“Huh?” Dwight asked. “I don’t remember that.”
“You weren’t there.”
“HUH?” Dwight repeated, even more confused. No way had Kenneth managed to take a piss here all by himself…
“Bryce helped me,” Kenneth explained.
“Oh… Um, good for him,” Dwight said. “So… See, you’ve done it out here before, so I bet we can get you to do it again if we try.”
Kenneth was so desperate to get all this water out of his body that he agreed to try. He spun around, and groaned as he unzipped. Never before had the mere sound of a zipper being moved been so beautiful… His bladder recognized the noise, knew it meant he was getting ready to go… He pulled out his cock and aimed between his feet. If this worked, that grass was going to get the watering of its life.
It didn’t work right away, of course. No matter how much Kenneth wished he could start spraying the second he was aimed, he knew better than to think he’d actually be able to.
Dwight stood behind him and held him. Kenneth was so tense in his arms. He started to rub his shoulders. “Shhh… Shhh… Shhh…” he hushed, hoping that the noise may have sounded enough like a leaking faucet to tempt Kenneth’s bladder into releasing.
No such luck.
“You’re okay…” Dwight whispered to him, just like always. “It’s only us, I’ve got you… Time to let it out…”
“Nnnh…” Kenneth grunted as he tried his best, pushing hard on his muscles. “I have to go so bad…”
“I know,” Dwight soothed. “And that’s okay. It’s all over now, no more holding it…” He’d never kissed Kenneth while they were doing this before, but he did it now, his lips lightly touching the back of Kenneth’s head. “You did a good job today, darling… Karl shouldn’t bother anyone anymore. You did such a good job, now it’s time for your reward…”
“Hnnng,” Kenneth whined, shutting his eyes, trying to remove the vacant, flat field from his vision. He tried to pretend they were inside somewhere, with a locked door. “It hurts…”
“Shhh…” Dwight whispered once more. “Settle down, it’s just us. Just us… Let it all go.”
A few drips sprang forth from Kenneth’s cock and he gasped out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“That’s good, keep doing that,” Dwight encouraged.
The drops kept pouring, giving way to a slow, dismal trickle, like water from a broken shower head. Kenneth was already starting to pant from relief, “Haaah—Haaahhhh—“
“There you go…” Dwight said. “Keep peeing. Poor thing, you’re bursting…”
“Need… To… So bad…” Kenneth agreed in a daze, his stream picking up speed until he was starting to gush a little more like how Karl had. And… Wow, did that ever feel good. He wasn’t panting anymore, but moaning “Ahhhhhh….” his eyelids fluttered and he went so weak at the knees that Dwight had to grip him beneath his armpits to help stay up.
“All better…” Dwight said, giving him another kiss. “That’s so much better, isn’t it?”
Kenneth could only give another low groan in response. ‘Better’ didn’t do this feeling justice. Neither did ‘relief’. This was something well beyond that, and he wanted it to last forever. “Ohhhh….” His pee kept spraying, the pleasurable sensation increasing all the while, until he was a shuddering, shaking mess of total bliss. It took almost two full minutes for his stream to finally wind down and cease and he nuzzled against the warm body behind him. “Ahhh…” he sighed again. “Thank you… I needed that,” he said as he zipped himself up.
“Heh, I could tell…” Dwight said. “Sorry the contest took so long, you didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”
“I don’t think so, I feel really good now,” Kenneth said. “You made me feel so good…”
Dwight blushed, Kenneth’s gratitude to him every time he did this always made him feel so warm inside. The way he gave Dwight ALL of the credit for his relief and relaxation was so… It was sweet. “Any time, Kenneth…”
Kenneth turned himself around, so they were now nose to nose. “You were right, that contest WAS a good idea,” he said softly. “You come up with good plans, you know?”
Dwight’s blush deepened. He was so close… “You’re… You’re normally the one that thinks of everything, like making Karl laugh until he lost it? I never would have come up with that.”
Kenneth didn’t want to explain how he’d thought of that, he felt too good, too soft and tender right now to mention that his Father had ever existed. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“It sure did…”
“I—
“Kenneth—“
“Today was—“
Dwight pressed his lips against Kenneth’s, and Kenneth grew instantly stiff in his arms, then slowly went slack again.
‘We shouldn’t be doing this!’ Kenneth’s brain screamed. ‘We’re outside! Someone could see! Anyone could see! Ohh… But, his lips are SO warm, and he’s so cute, and… God, I love him so much! I want to stay like this forever… Never stop, never—‘
“Oh!”
Kenneth jumped again as he heard a voice, he instantly pulled away from Dwight, eyes going wide with fear as he saw Elizabeth approaching.
Dwight turned around and saw her as well, his shoulders drawing upwards and his hands flying out in front of himself, as if to defend against a projectile. “Elizabeth—“ he said. “Kenneth and I were just—“
“Look,” Kenneth interrupted. “Whatever you think you saw, you don’t have to TELL anybody, alright?”
“I was… I was just coming to get the empty jugs,” Elizabeth said slowly.
“Thengetthem!” Kenneth ordered, speaking so fast his words came out garbled. “And— And, Dwight and I, we were— We’re not—“
Elizabeth blushed and looked away, “I KNEW it,” she said, a funny quality to her voice.
“Wha—What?” Kenneth asked. “What did you know?”
“Kenneth, sweetie, I have NEVER seen two people so in love with each other before,” Elizabeth said. “I can count the number of times I’ve seen the two of you apart from one another on one hand. You’re always finishing each other’s sentences. You can communicate without words…”
Kenneth’s heartbeat started to slow. She knew. She had… sort of KNOWN for a while. And she didn’t sound angry, or disgusted, or like she was going to tell anybody else. “Wait, you’re not mad?”
“No,” Elizabeth said. “It’s really sweet, actually.”
“But we’re…” Dwight said. “We’re not… We aren’t supposed to.”
Elizabeth nodded. She knew such relationships were not exactly… tolerated by many people, but that didn’t mean she had to think any one way about it. Kenneth and Dwight were adorable with one another, and obviously very happy. There was no reason to be bothered by it. “I won’t tell anybody else,” she promised, and they both looked relieved. “But, maybe don’t kiss outside in the middle of a field like that? If someone else had found you and that person DID have a problem with it…”
Kenneth nodded, “We… Got carried away,” he admitted. He imagined what would have happened if Karl had come back and seen the two of them in that position. That would have been an unsalvageable disaster.
“Good,” Elizabeth said. “You boys are… Ridiculously cute together, I don’t want anyone to ever hurt you for that.” |
Kenneth was not having the best day. He’d been made to test out a new exercise drill with Bryce, one that they both agreed was absolutely asinine and idiotic, but which they still had to do anyway. It began with Bryce tying Kenneth’s hands together behind his back, then Kenneth was to walk back and forth a few laps while balancing a plank of wood atop his head.
Apparently, this was supposed to strengthen his agility and coordination, but all it did was make Kenneth feel like an idiot. He told Bryce as much, and he’d predictably responded “Well, I hope you feel like an idiot, that’s what you are.”
Kenneth doubted Bryce would think it was so funny if HE were the one being made to do this stupid thing… Kenneth honestly didn’t think it was all that safe, what if he tripped over something? He wouldn’t be able to use his hands to keep from slamming his face right into the dirt… He could knock his teeth right out.
He didn’t end up falling, thankfully. But, the worst was still yet to come. Bryce had tied Kenneth’s hands together using a very thick (and annoyingly scratchy) bit of rope. And he’d used an overly complicated knot to do it, one which he now discovered he didn’t actually know how to UN-tie. “Oh, come on, when I had my hands tied up this way, they got it to come right back out!”
This confused Kenneth greatly. Bryce had not done the drill yet, so why would his hands have ever been restrained behind his back like this? “Bryce…?” Kenneth asked, trying to wriggle his hands out of the knot. “Um… When did THAT happen?”
Bryce began to cough and cleared his throat, “O—Oh, did I say that out loud?” he asked. “Well… I was… Um… Testing it earlier with someone. So that I’d know how to do it for you, that’s it.”
Kenneth still wasn’t convinced, since he didn’t know when Bryce would have had the time for that. But, he decided he must have missed something. He couldn’t think of any other reason Bryce may have ever been restrained with ropes. Bryce had never been captured by anyone, after all…
“So!” Bryce said quickly, trying to fight away the blush he was certain must have been coating his face. “Um… I… I wanted to thank you again for… For what you did with Karl. He has not said one word to me since, he just stays in his office and does his job like he’s supposed to.”
Kenneth nodded, but jerked his arms around. It certainly made him feel good to hear Bryce praise him, but the rope around his wrists was painfully tight. “Bryce,” he whined. “I need my hands for stuff, remember?”
“I know, I know,” Bryce said. “Just… Just wait here, I’ll go get something to cut through it for you.”
And so, Kenneth did wait. He waited for a very, very long time. But, Bryce did not come back. He wondered if Bryce had just ditched him deliberately, thinking it would be funny to leave him standing out in the field without the use of his hands. But, Bryce had no reason to pull such a mean joke on him right now, did he? Kenneth had just fixed his bully problem, it would be a real dick move to torment him after that!
So, Kenneth really didn’t think Bryce had abandoned him. Which meant something must have HAPPENED to delay him. Deep in the most shadowy, most hidden parts of Kenneth’s brain, he hoped it wasn’t anything bad. He would not go so far as to say he was worried about Bryce, just… Moderately concerned. That was all.
Kenneth began to walk away from the field on his own. Maybe he’d bump into Bryce on his way back and he could get these stupid binds off his wrists. He hoped so. His finger tips were starting to turn numb.
He did not run into Bryce at any point.
He tried to think of where he might be at this time of day, but when he checked all of the usual places Bryce tended to go in the afternoons, he couldn’t find him. When he looked in an area that Bryce sometimes supervised, Bryce was not there, but the guards that WERE looked at his bound hands and laughed at him.
Fury coursed through his veins and he very nearly shouted at them to shut up, but thought better of it. Kenneth starting a fight when he knew he was so much smaller than his opponents and far outnumbered was already stupid. Kenneth starting a fight when he didn’t even have access to his hands would be the dumbest thing he could possibly do. So, he simply asked them if any of them had something to cut through the rope, and when they said no, he stomped off.
After another half hour of searching, Kenneth gave up. He chose to return to his room in the barrack. If Bryce got mad because Kenneth skipped the second half of the day instead of working as he was supposed to, then he’d only have himself to blame. Kenneth couldn’t be expected to do his job with no hands, and if Bryce was apparently too damned lazy to come untie them, then that wasn’t HIS fault.
He managed to get back to his room easy enough, anyway. He had to face away from the door and sort of blindly fumble the knob with his fingertips. It took a few tries to get it to go in the right direction, but soon enough he was in.
Now granted an unexpected afternoon off, Kenneth tried to think of what to do. This proved more challenging. He’d never really thought about how many things he needed his hands for. He couldn’t read a book, because he couldn’t hold it up in front of himself or turn the pages. He couldn’t listen to the radio, because while he was able to turn it on, he was incapable of working the dial well enough to tune it properly, so all he got was static. He couldn’t just talk to Dwight because Dwight was still working.
Before long, his mind had returned to trying to think of a way to get his hands back in working order. He did have a pocket knife, that was something sharp. Maybe sharp enough to cut through the rope. But, he couldn’t even reach his pocket to retrieve it, much less manipulate the implement well enough to actually use it. ‘Wait... That thing’s been… In my pocket this whole time…’ he thought, and he felt like the biggest idiot in the universe; He should have told Bryce that he had it earlier. If he’d done that, he wouldn’t even be in this mess.
He tried for some time to just tear the rope. He strained his hands against the binds, but he didn’t feel them beginning to give at all. If anything, the rope was just constricting around his wrists even tighter. He could feel cuts beginning to form in his skin as the harsh, rough material dug into him. When he swore he felt blood trickling down his wrists, he gave up.
So, eventually, he realized that he was going to have to wait for Dwight to get back. Dwight could reach the pocket knife for him, and he could slice through the rope with it. That was going to be many long, boring hours though.
Kenneth decided he ought to try taking a nap, in the hopes it would move time along a little faster. He would need to swallow one of his sleeping pills, though… And, after three failed tries, he realized he was not able to get the bottle open using just his fingertips. Especially when he was being forced to put it behind his back and couldn’t even see what he was doing. He doubted he’d be able to get a canteen open, either. So he wouldn’t have any water to wash it down with, anyway.
He chose to just lay in his bed anyway and close his eyes. He probably wouldn’t be able to sleep without his pill, but he could at least rest and let his mind wander for a while. It was easy enough to kick his boots off— he didn’t want to wear them in his bed— and he climbed in. He shut his eyes and daydreamed to himself about all the mean things he was going to call Bryce after this. Unless he actually had a good reason for disappearing.
Kenneth hoped he didn’t. He hoped Bryce was unharmed and safe. But only because that meant he’d be able to yell at him for this, of course. No other reasons. It wasn’t as though he cared one iota for Bryce’s wellbeing, or anything like that.
Kenneth was right to assume he wouldn’t be capable of falling asleep without the use of his medication, but it still felt good to lay in bed like this. He was always running around so much, it was nice to just relax for a while and not do anything.
When he sat back up for a moment, a pulsing throb in his middle made itself known. He groaned. He was so comfortable! He didn’t want to have to get up… But, he knew his comfort wouldn’t last much longer if he didn’t. He’d had a lot of water that morning since he hadn’t known how intense the new fitness drill was going to be, and the reminder he now felt of all those big gulps of liquid he’d swallowed down was very insistent.
Getting out of bed wasn’t hard, though he hadn’t realized until then just how much his arms helped him out with keeping his body balanced. He walked swiftly to the restroom. Now, here was certainly a nice thing about spending the afternoon inside like this. He had free access to his private toilet, so he could pee as much as he wanted to, whenever he wanted to.
Standing up, feeling the effect the change in gravity had upon his bladder, made Kenneth realize he ‘wanted’ to pee quite a bit more than he’d initially thought, and he picked up his pace as he made it the last few steps through the doorway of the restroom. He hurried up to the toilet, and…
And then he felt like the biggest idiot that had ever walked the Earth.
God, he was stupid! He’d been thinking about his bound hands nonstop. He’d been thinking about his bound hands WHILE he’d been walking to the toilet. But still, he’d just headed right in here as if there was absolutely nothing that was preventing him from taking a leak right now.
His hands were, of course, very important tools when it came time to urinate. Without his hands, he could not get his belt apart. He could not undo his buttons. He could not pull his zipper down. He could not free his dick from his pants. He could not aim his stream.
Without his hands, Kenneth simply could not pee.
Blood rushed into his ears and he could almost hear his pulse racing. His bladder had begun to cramp at the sight of the toilet; This was his SAFE toilet, after all. This was the spot where he could always, always, ALWAYS relieve himself. The visual stimuli of that toilet and its surroundings was making Kenneth’s bladder lurch and spasm. It did not know that Kenneth’s hands were restrained. It thought that it was going to be emptied any second now.
Crossing his legs for a moment, Kenneth turned and quickly left the restroom, trying his best to ignore the confused pang from within his core as he did so. This was not good. He looked at the clock above his bed. There were hours to go until Dwight would be dismissed today. And then, what if he didn’t come straight here afterwards? How long would Kenneth have to wait before he could go?!
He had to stop thinking like that. It wasn’t as though he was a stranger to finding himself needing a piss with no way to actually have one. He’d always endured it, however long he’d needed to. The only difference now was that he was in his room and could easily walk to his safe toilet. He just had to forget it was there. He could… He could just pretend it was busted right now. That toilet didn’t exist anymore. He couldn’t use it, so it wasn’t even there, so he had to hold it.
And, he knew he could hold it. He knew he could. He realized now that it was a good thing he couldn’t get the canteens open, he didn’t need to put any more water into his body right now. He just needed to focus on something else and stop thinking about his bladder.
But, it was SO hard to think of something other than his bladder when he had NOTHING to do but lay in bed and be alone with his thoughts! He tried reciting facts about flamingos to himself, but then he started thinking about how nice it would be if he had super long, really twisty legs like flamingos did. THEN he could probably use his feet to get his clothes apart.
Oh, there was an idea!
Feet were… Kind of like hands in a way, weren’t they? They may not have been able to contort in EXACTLY the same ways, but they could curl and they had digits… He knew that monkeys could do all sorts of things with their feet. They could pick stuff up and carry things around with their toes. Humans and monkeys weren’t all THAT different, either.
Kenneth felt like he had a plan now. He’d somehow get his belt, buttons and zipper apart with just his feet, then he’d kind of… shimmy his pants down his legs a little bit and… He supposed he’d just sit down to go since he wouldn’t be able to aim and he didn’t want to make a mess. He’d gotten a little better at being able to do that after his foot injury. He still didn’t like it, it still wasn’t the most comfortable thing for him, but now if he sat there long enough and took deep breaths, his pee would usually come out eventually.
He wasn’t sure how he was going to get his pants back UP after all of that, but he could figure that out once he had a nice, empty bladder and, by extension, a much clearer head.
He sat up further on his bed and drew his feet in towards himself. As he jerked a leg up and turned it rather painfully inwards, he accidentally rolled over onto his back…
Probably safer to do this on the floor, it wouldn’t be good if he fell out of the bed and cracked his skull open or something.
Laying down on the floor, Kenneth tried again. He bent his leg around in ways he hadn’t even known it could move, and the muscles inside them ached as they were made to stretch out and go rigid in places they never had before. He was able to get his foot to make contact with his belt, but then he made the breakthrough scientific discovery that a toe was not a thumb. He twitched and curled his toes, trying to grip the buckle of his belt. His leg hurt from the weird, unnatural position he’d forced it to warp itself into.
The worst part of all of this was his bladder, though. He was so coiled in on himself, his abdomen being crushed by his deformed pretzeling, the pressure all of this contorting and scrunching was putting onto his bladder was like something from another world. A dark, twisted world built on nothing but suffering. He made himself keep trying, telling himself it would be worth it when he finally got his stupid clothes out of the way and could throw himself onto the toilet seat to let it all go.
“This is a good idea,” Kenneth muttered as he continued rolling around on the ground, squeezing his toes against the material of his belt. “It’s gonna work…” It was not a good idea, though. And he finally admitted that to himself when his leg suddenly jerked without his permission and his foot pressed firm into his abdomen.
An intense spasming wave of pure need rocked the walls of his swelling bladder and he flailed his foot away, laying sprawled out on the floor now. He blinked up at the ceiling, taking in choppy, shallow breaths as he tried to regain control of himself. His thighs tensed and his hips wriggled. Pee was starting to press firmly against his sphincter, a bright hot swell of pain flaring through him.
He’d… Just… He’d just kicked himself in the bladder. He’d literally freaking kicked himself in the freaking bladder. He kept staring at the ceiling, quite honestly just completely stunned that he’d actually managed to do that to himself.
Okay. So that had been a stupid idea. Kenneth sure seemed to be full of those today. He wasn’t as full of dumb ideas as he was of pee, however. A fact that was rapidly becoming a big problem. He sat back up, and the searing ball of piss in his middle sloshed. When he got to his feet, the boiling liquid he was brimming with all surged rapidly downwards. Instinctively, his hands jerked against their restraints. But, of course, Kenneth could not hold himself right now. All he could do was strain his thighs and cross his legs, which was what he did. It wasn’t helping, though.
He got back into his bed, miserably bouncing as he sat down. He hated that he could see the door to the restroom no matter where he was in this room. It was wide open, mocking him. ‘See, look! Here’s the toilet you can ALWAYS use. Except not now! Haha!’ He squeezed his eyes shut and looked at the wall opposite his bed instead. The wall wasn’t teasing him, the wall was just a wall…
Dwight peed on walls sometimes. Just outdoor walls, of course. And only when he had to go super badly and couldn’t hold it anymore. If Kenneth was with him when he did that, then Kenneth would keep watch for him. Sometimes, when Dwight peed on walls, the hissing sound was really, really loud. Of course it was, Dwight had been very desperate. Pee streams were always noisy when the people releasing them had been bursting.
Kenneth sure was bursting right now. His pee stream was going to be extra loud whenever he was finally going to let it out. That was going to feel good. That was going to feel so, so good. His pee was going to hiss and splatter and just pour and pour and pour forever. And this horrible ball of tension would shrink and fade away into nothingness, and the awful pinching that kept happening around his pee-hole would stop, and it would all feel so good, and—
Hsssssss….
“Nnnnh!” Kenneth gave a loud, pained wince as he felt himself starting to trickle. His thighs tightened up more. He bounced and bounced. But, he just NEEDED to go so badly, and he was in his ROOM and no one was HERE so nothing was in place to make his bladder clamp up… His usual stage-fright was not a factor. So, just like anyone else whom was holding back a bladder that was way fuller than could be managed, he was starting to have an accident.
God… He wanted to hold himself! He NEEDED to hold himself. Even now, his hands were straining and flailing against the rope, trying their absolute best to reach his cock and give it a nice, firm squeeze. But, his hands were trapped and he couldn’t break them free!
He shifted around like mad, and eventually coiled himself up in such a way that a foot was pressed into his crotch. And, while his foot may not have been capable of freeing him from his pants, it made a perfectly serviceable plug. His leaking began to slow, he leaned forward a bit so that the pressure of his foot increased, and then he’d finally managed to cut off his flow.
He was sure there was a wet spot on him after that. He’d been leaking for at least fifteen seconds, non-stop. He didn’t dare move his foot to check, however. His foot was the only barrier he had now between his continued desperation and total humiliation.
Alone to endure his misery, Kenneth’s typical filter of intense self-consciousness was gone. No one was around to watch as he writhed and desperately bucked against his own foot. No one was around to hear him if he happened to say something embarrassing. And that was a good thing, because Kenneth was definitely saying a lot of things that were embarrassing. He’d begun to chant, to mutter to himself. “Ohhhh, I need to gooooo!” He moaned. “I feel like I’m going to explode! There’s so much… It’s too much… I can’t fit it all in! I need to goooo!”
His hands were still twitching around behind his back. He was freaking out so badly, inside and out. He wanted to calm himself down, to soothe himself. He wanted to chew on his hands. He NEEDED to chew on his hands. He needed to gnaw them raw! Not even having the ability to do THAT was driving him mad. “I have to take a freaking piss! I have to take a freaking piss SO freaking badly!”
His heart thundered in his ribcage, his bladder throbbed and pulsed through his entire body. He felt like his sides must have been splitting, must have been tearing apart like an overfull paper bag. He needed to go, he needed to go, he just… Dear God, Kenneth needed to GO!
He ducked his head down, caught part of his shirt collar in his teeth. He started to chew on that instead, since his hands still weren’t an option. It quickly grew wet and saturated with saliva, and he didn’t care. He was so full of tension and need that he just had to have SOME way to ease a little of it away.
He just kept sitting in his bed, just kept bouncing, just kept chewing, just kept pressing into his foot, just kept holding… God, he just HAD to keep holding. Hold it, hold it, hold it… Don’t pee, don’t pee, don’t pee… Keep it in, keep it in, keep it in…
Kenneth was terrified that Dwight was going to come in here, find him laying in a soaked bed with his hands restrained. How pathetic would that be? How utterly pathetic? He just couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t… Hold it, hold it, hold it… Please, just hold it…
He wasn’t sure how much time actually passed, so trapped in the fiery Hell of his absolutely horrendous need for a piss, but eventually Kenneth heard the most wonderful sound; The door opening.
Dwight was finally here.
Kenneth was saved.
Dwight did not notice at first how distressed his friend was, “Where were you today? I looked—“
“Dwight, I have to piss!” Kenneth interrupted. “NOW!”
Dwight stared at him, realizing how absolutely knotted Kenneth’s shaking body was. He then looked to the restroom. The door was open, it wasn’t stuck… The toilet appeared to be working… “So—“
“My hands are tied behind my back!” Kenneth said, tensing his arms up and jiggling so quickly that Dwight worried he was about to make himself fall out of the bed. “I can’t… Oh, God, Dwight! I can’t freaking hold it much longer!”
“Oh,” Dwight said. He wondered WHY Kenneth’s hands were tied down, but assumed that Kenneth wasn’t exactly in the mood for a conversation right now. “Well, I’ll… I’ll get them untied for y—“
“No time!” Kenneth blurted out. “I need to GO first!”
“But—“
“Just— I need you to— Just HELP,” Kenneth ordered. “YOU have hands, remember!”
Dwight started to blush. “Oh…” he said.
“Yes!” Kenneth gently and carefully got to his feet. Leaks began to come as soon as he’d done so, but thank goodness they were nothing like that huge one he’d had earlier. He hobbled towards the restroom. “HURRY!”
Dwight had noticed the damp spot on Kenneth’s clothes and knew that he definitely NEEDED to hurry, but… “Um, Kenneth… Er… I’ll help you with your clothes, but uh… You know I’m going to have to touch your… You know. Is that okay?”
Kenneth fought not to roll his eyes. He didn’t freaking CARE if Dwight had to touch his cock to get it out of his pants. He didn’t freaking CARE that Dwight was probably going to have to aim for him too! He just NEEDED to get this piss the Hell out of his bladder right the fuck NOW. “It’s FINE, Dwight,” Kenneth said. “It's just you. You’ve seen and touched it all before, now HURRY.”
‘Wow…’ Dwight thought. ‘He’s not even stuttering or blushing… How bad DOES he have to go right now?’ He followed Kenneth into the restroom. “Alright, if you’re okay with it…”
“I am VERY okay with it,” Kenneth said. He was facing away from the toilet, and his eyes were shut for good measure. If his bladder caught on that it was in his bathroom right now, it was going to explode. “Just, for the love of God, hurry up!”
Dwight crouched down in front of Kenneth, “Okay,” he said. “Hang on…” he unbuckled Kenneth’s belt, and the instant he’d done so, Kenneth was moaning. That sound, mixed with the fact that he was now in the process of disrobing Kenneth, ignited a fire in Dwight’s belly. ‘Maybe… Maybe after he’s… Done, we can do something tonight…’ he thought hopefully.
Kenneth felt so much better once his stupid belt was no longer squeezing into his bladder that he couldn’t HELP but moan. But, within a second, the thrashing, all-consuming, PAINFUL need to urinate was back. He felt like a thumbtack was being inserted into his urethra, it stung SO bad! He started to bounce up and down on his feet.
Dwight wanted to tell him to hold still, but he knew that would probably be like asking him to solve the world’s most challenging Calculus equation right now; He just wouldn’t be able to do it. Dwight quickly undid Kenneth’s buttons, and then gripped his zipper and pulled it down.
“Oh… Oh thank God, thank you, thank you, thank you,” Kenneth was already murmuring as soon as he’d heard his zipper releasing.
‘Jeez, he’s babbling…’ Dwight thought. ‘Poor thing’s gotta be in agony…’ He hesitated for a moment.
“Dwight, please!?” Kenneth groaned when he didn’t feel Dwight immediately grasp hold of his cock and finally free it from the confines of his boxers. “I really CAN’T wait!”
Dwight reached and gripped Kenneth’s member, he saw a thick, clear drop of liquid beading on its opening, and watched as it plinked to the ground. A second drop quickly took its place. Kenneth was so, so full…
As fast as he could, Dwight stood up and spun Kenneth around so he was facing the toilet, then he took hold of his friend’s leaking penis again and aimed it. “Okay, Kenneth,” he said. “I know this probably feels really weird, but you’re okay, you’re—“
PSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
A tidal wave of liquid relief erupted from Kenneth’s cock before Dwight could even really begin his typical ‘calm down’ routine. The speed at which Kenneth began urinating surprised Dwight so much that he was accidentally making his friend go on the rim of the bowl. He adjusted this quickly, the spray now striking the water in the toilet instead. He knew Kenneth preferred to always aim his stream away from the water to make less noise, so he adjusted it again…
Kenneth, meanwhile, was moaning and letting out a barely coherent mess of words. “Ahhhh…. Ohhhhh, thank you… Thankyouthankyouthankyou… Thank you sosososososo much… That’s so much better, thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou…”
Holding Kenneth’s dick, manipulating it while Kenneth made such intense noises and PRAISED him… Dwight’s pants were getting uncomfortably tight. He didn’t feel as guilty about it this time. He knew now how attracted Kenneth was to him, and that there was little chance that the feeling of his erection pressing into him right now was bothering him in any way. Dwight didn’t even think that he SHOULD feel guilty anymore. He was making Kenneth feel absolutely AMAZING right now, it only made sense that it made HIM feel really good, too.
“Poor thing…” Dwight said as Kenneth’s deluge somehow managed to increase in intensity. “You needed this one BAD.”
“Had to… Had to go so much, Dwight…” Kenneth groaned breathily. He started to go weak in the knees, started to shiver. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou…”
Dwight used the hand not on Kenneth’s dick to help his friend remain upright as he kept gasping and groaning.
Kenneth felt Dwight propping him up, and he let his eyes drift closed again. He didn’t have to do ANYTHING at all right now. Dwight was keeping him standing up. Dwight was aiming his stream. All Kenneth had to do was just… Enjoy this, enjoy how immensely powerful this beautiful, wondrous relief was…
His release began to slow to a trickle, then paused.
“All finished?” Dwight asked, kind of doubting that Kenneth was. It had only been about one minute, he knew now that when Kenneth was at his limit a single minute was not enough time to get it all out.
“No,” Kenneth said. He still could still feel a lot more in there. He pushed down and his flow resumed. “Haaaahhhhhhh….” This second stream came out much slower than the first had, and once it had stopped, Kenneth felt completely drained. “Phew… Okay, NOW it’s done.”
Dwight knew that now he had to… Well, he had to shake Kenneth off. “Um… Do you want me to… You know…”
“You can do that,” Kenneth said. “I still don’t have my hands for it, remember?”
Dwight gave Kenneth’s cock a few shakes, trying to remove the last stray drops of urine. Dwight, admittedly, shook Kenneth’s member quite a bit more than he really NEEDED to… He couldn’t help it. He liked the feel of it in his hand too much.
“Ah—“ Kenneth gasped out as Dwight brushed the head of his cock a little with his thumb. He was… He was so freaking SENSITIVE right now. His desperation had left him feeling sort of raw, every sensation was more intense than it would have been otherwise, and— God, he was getting stiff… “G—Get the knife from my pocket,” Kenneth said. “Cut through the rope. Then… Um… Then…”
“Do you want to show me something special that you can do when you’re able to use your hands?”
“Y—Yes,” Kenneth said. “I would… I would really, really like to do that.” |
And with this one, we're finally caught up.
There's a particular Omo trope that is my least favorite, which is the whole "Guys can pee, but girls can't" scenario. Since Bryce wants to be the perfect gentleman and all, I figured he wouldn't like a situation like that either and would try to fix it.
***
In search of a knife, Bryce pushed open the door to the supply room. He was startled upon seeing a shadow already inside it, but relaxed when he realized it was Elizabeth. “Hello, Bryce,” she greeted sweetly. He noticed she was sorting through a box… A job that was supposed to go to Kenneth today.
“Paulson will be here to do that soon,” Bryce informed. “He’s just tied up at the moment.”
“Doing what?” Elizabeth asked.
“Oh, I mean he’s literally tied up,” Bryce said. “I had to restrain his hands for a fitness drill earlier and then I couldn’t get the knot to come back out.”
Elizabeth smiled and Bryce blushed. He hoped she didn’t think he was incompetent since he couldn’t manage to untangle the rope… “I could probably untie him for you, I’m good with knots.”
And damned if that didn’t that just get Bryce’s brain working in over-drive. It had been a while since he’d last… Indulged himself in his peculiar after-dark tastes. He just didn’t get the chance to do it very often. There was one club in town that he went to every once in a while, a secretive place that required a password to get inside of. He hadn’t paid it a visit in months. He missed the feeling of having his body restrained, of pretending to himself that he was trapped and at someone else’s mercy.
In fact, he’d very nearly volunteered HIMSELF to test out the new fitness drill instead of Kenneth, just so he could enjoy the rope binding his hands. But, with how long it had been since he’d last been to that club— And the almost criminal length of time it had been since Bryce had last had the time and privacy to explore his body on his own— he was nervous that he wouldn’t be able to hide how much he liked the feeling of the rope. Even if he managed to keep his face nonplussed and blank, another area of his body was sure to make its enthusiasm known.
Bryce was a little… Pent-up, that was it. So, of course Elizabeth innocently talking about knot-tying was making him feel tingly, filling his brain with pictures that were crystal clear and very, very interesting. “Er-hem,” Bryce cleared his throat, realizing he’d been standing there silently for too long. Was he blushing? Could Elizabeth tell what he was thinking about? Of course not, of course not… “W—Well, I do have to cut him free soon,” Bryce said, trying to move on from the topic of Elizabeth and ropes and knots… “H—He has a lot of work to do. He’s supposed to be organizing those boxes, you know? That is his job.” He was babbling, and he knew it. But, he couldn’t stop. Just, hopefully he didn’t say anything— “Oh, and he probably has to take a leak by now, too. Gotta get his hands free!”
—Anything he shouldn’t…
Bryce was definitely blushing now. Why the Hell had he said THAT? “I— I mean,” he stammered. “Paulson— Uh, he was doing that thing where he gnaws his knuckles while we did the drill. He always does that when he needs… You know. Isn’t that weird? Such a strange habit, right?”
Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand. Bryce sure loved the sound of his own voice, didn’t he? “Bryce, how was Kenneth biting his hands if they were tied behind his back?”
“I— I mean, he was doing that BEFORE they got tied,” Bryce said. “Let’s— Let’s not talk about that, I just… Have to get a knife. That’s all.”
Elizabeth watched him rummage around until he found what he was looking for; a small knife. “I’ll go get him now! Just— It will be a little while. Paulson has to go ALL the way back to his room to pee, you know? Isn’t that weird? Paulson is weird… Smith is, too. I saw him drinking hot sauce like it was water before, how strange is that? I’m not like that, though. I’m—“
“Bryce…” Elizabeth said. “Did you eat too much sugar, or something?” She laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”
“No—Nothing,” Bryce said. “Goodbye!” He hurried for the door and tugged it, but once again it was jammed. “Oh, come on!”
“We really should repair that door…” Elizabeth said. “It gets stuck way too often.”
Bryce jiggled the knob and yanked hard on it. It didn’t budge. Nerves assailed him. Kenneth was going to be very angry at him if he didn’t come free him soon, no doubt. Hopefully not mad enough to try and pull off one of his usual pranks. Plus, he was stuck in here with Elizabeth, and whenever he was around her he seemed to forget how words worked.
And, on top of that, Elizabeth was… Well, kind of right. Bryce HAD had too much of something today. He’d had too much water, and only now that he knew he was stuck in a place without a toilet did he realize the extent to which he needed to use one. He’d been trapped in here with Kenneth not too long ago, and he’d needed to relieve himself then as well. He’d simply gone to the trash bin and unloaded his bladder there.
Elizabeth was here today though, and so the trash bin may as well have been radioactive. He couldn’t go near it. With some concern, he reviewed the quantity of liquid he’d taken in since he’d last urinated. Three— No, four!— canteens of water were now beginning to voice their intention to check out from his body. He stood frozen, trying to gauge how full he felt now. This wasn’t an emergency yet, he could stave off the pangs by just tensing his thighs a little bit.
But, it was going to get worse. There was no way around that. And… He could not be around Elizabeth when his urge for the toilet became an all-consuming need. Not again. She’d seen him desperate to go once, he could NOT allow that to happen again. He had to get out of here while his bladder was still in the mood to cooperate and not force him to twist and squirm and— God forbid— hold himself…
He started to bash his fists against the door and shout, hoping someone would hear to free them. But, after several minutes, nobody had and Elizabeth was beside him. “Bryce, dear. Calm down, someone will be here soon.” She put her hand on his shoulder and he trembled beneath her touch. “Do you get scared in tight spaces?” she asked.
Bryce shook his head. He didn’t mind enclosed spaces. He liked being restrained, for goodness sake! What he didn’t like was getting desperate to piss in front of someone— Especially not in front of a woman! It was bad enough when another guy saw him writhing!
He just had to stop thinking about peeing, that was it. He was working himself up when he didn’t even really have to go that badly. His bladder would only clench in on itself and fill right up if he kept thinking so hard about it! He needed something else! “H—Have you ever gotten stuck here before?”
“Only once,” Elizabeth said. “And, it didn’t last long. Someone came and got the door open after just an hour. I know you got stuck here with Paulson once, didn’t you?”
“Y—Yes,” Bryce said. Of course, the first aspect of that he recalled was the pee he’d taken into the garbage can. The second aspect he recalled was helping Kenneth unleash a flood of his own… He rocked on his heels nervously.
“Are you alright?” Elizabeth asked.
“P—Perfectly fine,” Bryce said. “Just anxious. Paulson is not the most patient person. He is probably furious with me right now.”
“He should understand,” Elizabeth assured.
Bryce nodded. A little ripple of need surged through him. Kenneth may have been remarkably impatient, but Bryce’s bladder may have been even worse.
Drip…
Drip…
Drip…
Bryce’s brow furrowed. What the Hell was that noise? Just, a steady plinking of liquid… The absolute LAST thing he wanted to hear right now. He glanced around, saw the sink, saw the little dribble continuously seeping from its faucet.
Annoyed, he stomped over to it and tried to crank it shut, but no matter how hard he pulled, it kept dripping.
“Sorry,” Elizabeth said. “We have to get THAT fixed too…”
Bryce didn’t say anything and walked to the other side of the room. But, he could still hear the trickling. In fact, now that he’d noticed it, it was the only thing he COULD hear. He couldn’t hear his own breathing anymore, nor the racing of his heart. He couldn’t hear it when Elizabeth went back to organizing the contents of the boxes. All he could hear was the little drip, drip, drip of the water, and each time a drop fell into the basin, his bladder would shudder. He crossed his legs together at the ankles and hoped it looked casual.
But, all the leg-crossing in the world couldn’t make the sink shut up. “Why do we even HAVE a sink in here?!”
“Well, because we keep weaponry in here,” Elizabeth explained. “Sometimes, something… Bursts, and if it gets on your hands you need to wash it off right away.”
Bryce nodded, but he couldn’t make himself care. If that leaking faucet didn’t quiet the Hell down soon, then something ELSE was going to burst! He started to kneel down onto the floor. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, rocking. He knew he must have looked like something was bothering him. But, fine. Let Elizabeth think he really WAS scared of enclosed spaces. That was better than her finding out that the sound of water could control his bladder better than he himself could!
Elizabeth watched Bryce scrunching up on the ground and felt a bit of a gnawing sensation in her gut. Was Bryce feeling frightened? She saw him start to shake and assumed that, yes, Bryce must have been very scared at the moment. Poor dear… And, of course, the silly guy was too proud to admit it.
The twisting in Elizabeth’s stomach grew, she’d seen men like Bryce— men that generally appeared tough, strong and commanding— get frightened before. Dwight, for example. Once, she’d had to draw a little blood from his arm. He’d taken off his shirt, revealing the thick, muscular form of his chest that made him look like a very powerful person, but then she’d gotten the needle and he was trembling and shutting his eyes and obviously terrified.
And, there was just something about seeing a man like that show such obvious signs of fear, something about having to soothe him and tend to him and make him feel safe. Elizabeth could feel like she was really strong too, then. This guy that was supposed to be able to control everything and fear nothing now had to squeeze her hand because needles were just that scary to him.
Now, Elizabeth wanted to show Bryce the same comfort. But, while Dwight had had no qualms about whimpering “I— I hate needles…” and admitting that the mere sight of them made his heart pound, Bryce clearly was not going to speak up and say that this cramped space was upsetting him. “Bryce?” Elizabeth asked. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”
Bryce tried to stop rocking, tried to relax his body a little bit. He needed something VERY badly right now. But, there was no way for him to GET that thing at the moment, so he was better off just pretending he had no need for it at all. “I—I’m fine,” he said, the edgy pangs right at his pee-hole sharpening as though to punish him for lying. “Don’t worry.” He forced himself to stand back up, and after a few seconds of toe-tapping, he was leaning against one of the walls.
Elizabeth was not convinced. Obviously, Bryce was not fine. Even from the other side of the room, she could tell his forehead was clammy, and his cheeks were flushed. Now that he was needing to use the wall to support his body, he looked positively sickly.
Elizabeth knew that Bryce had an intensely sensitive stomach. He’d requested medication for it several times. It seemed that whenever Bryce was particularly stressed, or ate something with dairy or a high spice content, his stomach would act up. It was generally well known amongst the guards that if Bryce suddenly turned pale and announced a need for a break during a march, everyone had to stop immediately and move aside before he got sick. There had been a few incidents where someone hadn’t gotten out of his way quickly enough, and their boots paid the price for their sluggishness.
Elizabeth looked around, hoping that if Bryce was about to be ill there was something here for him to do it into. “Are you unwell?” she asked. “Do you have your stomach medication with you?”
Bryce shook his head. He didn’t carry his nausea medication around with him, although he probably should have. His stomach wasn’t even really bugging him, either. The only things bugging him were his bladder and that infernal sink that must have been constructed deep in the bowels of Hell, hand-crafted by Satan himself for the express purpose of torturing Bryce’s bladder. “I’m not sick,” he promised, turning away from her.
He wished she would stop trying to figure out what was troubling him. He was NOT going to tell her. Even as his knees rubbed together and it felt to him like every drop that splashed out of the sink somehow teleported itself directly into his bladder, he promised himself that he would never ever admit what was wrong. He just had to hope she wouldn’t manage to figure it out on her own.
And that meant no leg crossing, and definitely no holding himself. His hands kept twitching though, eager to palm his groin, eager to squeeze tight against his aching urethral opening, eager to do what they could to fight back his flood. Without his permission, they began to creep around his side, getting closer and closer to making contact. He forced them to stop, forced them to grip the bottom of his shirt instead as he stomped his feet.
Elizabeth watched Bryce’s agitated twitching, and some of her concern started to ebb away. Now, it looked less like Bryce was scared or sick, and more like he was just very angry. Bryce had spoken earlier of Kenneth’s chronic lack of patience, but really he was no better. Bryce constantly had the patience of a man that had just missed the last train of the day and was miles away from home.
Now that she knew Bryce was just annoyed by his present circumstance and didn’t actually have anything wrong with him, Elizabeth felt free to worry about other things. Particularly, she worried about the leaky sink. She worried about the little pulse of water that was continually beading out of its faucet. She worried about the way each drop seemed to echo in the now silent room. And, mostly, she worried about how the noise was making her wish dearly that she’d used the restroom before coming in here.
Elizabeth worked very long hours. Her job had her constantly on her feet, running in all directions and with barely enough time to catch her breath, let alone use the toilet. For all the scolding she’d subjected Kenneth to for routinely holding in his bladder until it was filled to its brim, her work necessitated that she do the same thing very often.
She’d grown mostly used to it, as had everyone that worked in the medical building with her. It was just a fact of life there that pee-breaks were hard to come by. Normally, Elizabeth would endure without complaint.
But, there were some things that made that harder. If something needed to be washed out, Elizabeth would do her best to find someone else to do it for her, because listening to the sink run for very long would just wreak all kinds of havoc on her bladder. If it began to rain, the sound of it hissing against the roof would often make her double over. She obviously couldn’t avoid washing her hands, and every time she did, she would cross her legs and worry at her lip as the warm water flowed over her flesh and trickled noisily into the basin.
Just the quiet, plinking drips from that leaky faucet were enough to make Elizabeth squirm.
Bryce was lucky, Elizabeth thought. Even if the faucet did manage to irritate his bladder, he wouldn’t have too much trouble relieving himself in here. Hell, he could even let it flow right into that sink if he had to. And, if he didn’t like that option, there were jars, bottles, the trash bin… Lots of things he could quickly unzip at and release.
Elizabeth couldn’t do those things, though. She wished she could. If there was a simple way for her to pee somewhere other than a toilet, a way that wouldn’t force her to expose half of her body and risk falling over after squatting into an awkward position, she would be peeing right now.
There was nothing that could be done for it, however.
Bryce was seething in his corner of the room. He wanted to find whoever had installed that sink there and wring their neck. He wanted to pull out all of their teeth and then force them to eat them. He wanted to piss into their eyes, because it was all THEIR fault he had so much piss inside him to begin with! He was positive that, had that relentless splashing not been taking place for all this time, he would absolutely NOT be this desperate to relieve himself. He’d need to go, sure, but it would be a manageable need. What he was feeling right now was rapidly becoming very unmanageable.
He kept stomping his feet, his hands continually kneading the material of his shirt. He wanted to hold himself. He wanted to hold himself very badly. He could feel his pee-hole quivering, could feel urine pulsing urgently inside the pipe of his penis, could feel a drop beginning to bead on his tip before it soaked into the material of his boxers. Once this drop had glided out, another quickly took its place. Then another. And another. And another. He was having the slowest accident in the history of accidents; Losing control over his bladder drop by tiny drop, and he NEEDED a toilet right the Hell now!
He gave up, if he didn’t— literally— get a grip on things, he was going to wind up very, very wet. His hands finally moved that last little distance, pressing firmly into his groin, and in that instant when his overburdened muscles managed to get a little taste of relief, he felt so much better that his eyes welled up.
He stood as still as he could, facing away from Elizabeth. Just… So long as she couldn’t SEE his hands, so long as she couldn’t tell where he’d had to stick them, then he’d still be in the clear. His feet ceased thwacking against the floor, his hips beginning to twist instead.
But, now that Bryce had stopped stomping his boots, absolutely nothing covered up the noise from the faucet. And now it had free rein to make Bryce’s bladder pinch and swell and shake, taunting it and reminding it of just how nice it would feel to pulse out a few more dribbles— Or, perhaps an entire stream? Yes, wouldn’t that feel good? Bryce’s hands tightened their anxious grip and his legs knotted together.
Unbeknownst to him, the amplification of the faucet’s dribbling had had a very similar effect on Elizabeth. With nothing to even sort of drown out the dripping, it was all she could hear anymore. She almost asked Bryce if he would please consider RESUMING his angry, foot-stomping temper tantrum. Why had he stopped it, anyway? Had he calmed down, or run out of energy?
She turned around, seeing Bryce now hunched over in the corner… His legs crossed, and his hands obviously doing something around his front…
And Elizabeth felt silly.
She’d spent all that time trying to ‘diagnose’ Bryce’s issue when his trembling, sweating panic should have made it plainly obvious.
What wasn’t plainly obvious though was why he hadn’t made use of the sink, or the trash bin, or anything else in the room yet! If she were able to, she would have done it ages ago! Why was Bryce just making himself hold it when he had no reason to?
He couldn’t still be shy about mentioning these things to her, could he? Surely, not after what all had happened last time. He’d gone in front of her already! He’d begged her to HELP him go! That hadn’t made him get over whatever little hang-ups he had?
He HAD needed a lot of reassurance last time that what he’d done was okay and understandable… Maybe he needed that again now? “… Bryce?” Elizabeth asked.
Bryce didn’t dare turn around to reply, she couldn’t see where his hands were, and if he tried moving them he was sure that the loss of his ‘dam’ would cause his overflowing bladder to collapse and spray everywhere. “Y—Yes?”
“I don’t mean to embarrass you, but do you need the restroom?”
Bryce couldn’t respond. He felt like the floor was falling out from under him, he was so painfully embarrassed. If they were somewhere that he could actually reach a toilet, he may have just said yes. But, not here, not when admitting to his need would only grant him Elizabeth’s pity and “I’m sorry, we should be let out of here soon. Try and hold on, okay?”
“Bryce…” Elizabeth repeated. “You know it’s okay if you do, right? You don’t have to be ashamed of it. If you have to go, you have to go.”
“I can’t go…” Bryce mumbled, it was the closest thing to a ‘Yes, I really need to pee!’ that he could manage.
Elizabeth worried at her lip. If Bryce was desperate enough to be holding himself, then for the sake of his health he really NEEDED to go now. “You can,” she said.
“There’s no bathroom,” Bryce said, miserable. She needed to stop talking about this. It was only making his urge worsen. Bryce had to pee, but there was no toilet here. If there was no toilet here, then he couldn’t pee, so he wouldn’t. He’d hold it.
Elizabeth was still confused. Bryce had spent several nights outdoors where there wouldn’t be toilets, and he hadn’t put up a fuss about having to pee into a bottle while he was sick and needed to stay in bed. She knew he wasn’t squeamish. “You’re a man, you can go in the trash bin, or the sink, or—“
“N—No!” Bryce stammered, squeezing his cock tighter and tighter as his bladder did its best to convince him she was right. How could she SAY that to him? How could she suggest he do such a thing right in front of her!? He couldn’t, he absolutely couldn’t! Elizabeth would never look at him the same way again! She’d always remember the day he’d been so desperate, so unable to restrain his bladder, that he’d gone and emptied it out into a sink in front of her.
Elizabeth shifted her weight from foot to foot. Truth be told, she didn’t really WANT Bryce to pee in here. She’d have to listen to him go! She’d have to listen to him do the same thing she was dying to do, all while she seethed with jealousy at how easy he had it! But, it was her job to keep people healthy, and holding it in wasn’t good for Bryce’s health at all. She did not understand why he was being so stubborn about this. She’d expect this level of defensiveness from Kenneth, considering his problem, but— “Bryce… Are you shy?” Elizabeth asked.
Oh God, oh God… Bryce’s embarrassment grew more and more heavy on his shoulders, it was weighing him down. “Nope! N—Not usually…” he squeaked. “I— It’s just…”
“You’re more comfortable around other men? Is that it?” Elizabeth guessed. “Well, I promise not to look.” She’d turned around and given him his privacy the last time he’d accidentally relieved himself in front of her, after all. She thought it would be unwise to mention that incident now, though.
“I— I…” Bryce stuttered. “It would be rude of me to… I am not even supposed to mention to you that I… Need… That…”
“Bryce…” Elizabeth tried to soften her tone, but it was hard when her own bladder was quavering and lurching inside her. “It’s okay to need things. You can’t help that. If you have to pee, then you should pee, I won’t watch you. I won’t even say anything about it after you’re done, I promise. We can pretend it never happened. Listen to your body and give it what it needs. You’re lucky, you can DO that right now.”
“I’m… Lucky?” Bryce asked, turning around more now.
“I… I mean, because you can go so easily,” Elizabeth said. “You don’t have to take off your clothes all the way, and… Stuff..”
Elizabeth… Had to go as well? Bryce’s neck hairs prickled as his cheeks warmed up until he felt like he’d been badly sun-burnt. Of course, Bryce was not so naive as to think women didn’t ‘go’ (although it had taken him an embarrassingly long time to figure out that they did. Up until he was eight he thought women couldn’t pee since they didn’t have penises.) Bryce had certainly never seen a woman go before. Or heard one say that they needed to.
“Ummm…” Bryce said, and he began to shift back and forth on his feet again from more than just desperation.
“You’re really lucky,” Elizabeth said again, and Bryce watched as she squirmed from one foot to the other, watched as her hips shifted, felt his skin prickle and his face and neck flame as it all made him feel so awkward. He was amazed that, having seen both Kenneth and Dwight dying for a piss several times and not feeling anything more than amusement or concern, that seeing Elizabeth experience the same thing could make him feel so completely out of his depth. He felt like he was intruding on a deeply private moment, like he’d just walked in on her changing her clothes.
He felt bad for her, of course. She hadn’t gone in all this time, either And he felt like the skin around his bladder was being stretched to an inhuman extent… She must have been ready to burst by now. He understood why relieving herself in here was not going to be easy. She’d have to expose quite a bit of her body and get into an awkward position. She’d have to try and balance without getting any of her pee on her foot, and—
Guh… Now Bryce had that image in his head. The image of her… Mostly naked— He turned away from her, trying to conceal how red he was getting.
Beyond the general complications of peeing into the trash bin for her, she’d have to do it with him here. And, of course, she wouldn’t want to do that, would she? And, now Bryce knew he REALLY couldn’t go! It would be so unfair of him!
Bryce wished he could help, but was it even his place to try? And what if he suggested some sort of solution and it was offensive to her? What if she got angry with him?
He… Actually had an idea, but he wasn’t sure if there was anything here that would work. It was probably just stupid. She’d likely think it was gross too… But, she was obviously suffering. And he’d be taught he was supposed to help women when something was hurting them. He left his corner, walking with his knees rubbing together.
Elizabeth was relieved when he’d started moving, “You’re going to—“
But, instead of going to either of the receptacles she’d suggested, Bryce went to the box she’d been sorting through earlier. He had a feeling that if she’d been digging through it, it likely had medical supplies in it. He forced one hand off of his cock, his other hand squeezing more and more fiercely as it was forced to make up the difference.
Sure enough, the box had contained medical supplies, and right away he found a plastic spoon used to dispense medicine, he held it in his hand and spun it around and around. At one end was a wide, round bowl opening, leading down into a thick, short tube that closed off at the bottom.
Bryce took out the knife he’d retrieved earlier. He hesitated for a moment. He was going to need BOTH of his hands for this, and he was very nervous about what would happen if he released his dick right now. Slowly, very slowly, he uncurled each of his fingers one by one. As soon as the pressure of his hand was completely gone, he was dribbling yet again. He clenched his thighs, twisted his hips, and tried his best to pin his opening shut before his drips became a torrent.
“Bryce?” Elizabeth asked. “What are you doing?”
Bryce didn’t answer. He didn’t have any energy left to spare on talking. It all had to go towards accomplishing his task, and holding his bladder. With shaking, needy hands, he began to slice at the bottom of the medicine spoon as carefully and smoothly as he could. The plastic material was thick and harsh, a little tricky to cut into, but when he pressed down as hard as he could, it started to come apart.
Once the bottom had been removed, he held the medicine spoon in one hand as the other quickly— and so, so thankfully— flew back between his legs and gave his damp cock a nice, firm squeeze. He went back to Elizabeth and held up the modified spoon, before realizing he hadn’t actually thought about what he was going to say to her.
“Bryce, what in the world did you do THAT for?“ Elizabeth asked. “I thought you needed to—“
“Look, see the top part is kind of like a funnel?” Bryce interrupted, and there was something almost like pride in his voice. He felt so smart for coming up with an answer for her. “And, now the bottom is open so you can… You can pour stuff straight through it!”
“You—“ Elizabeth blinked at him, and then she was laughing, but this was quickly interrupted by a wince as her bladder obviously contracted hard.
Bryce’s face fell when she’d begun to snicker at him. Maybe this had been a stupid idea after all. At least she wasn’t mad… “I just— I thought— I wanted to help…”
“That’s… So cute, Bryce,” Elizabeth said. “You’re really just a sweetheart underneath all that ‘tough guy’ stuff, aren’t you?”
“I’m n—not sweet,” Bryce mumbled, tangling his legs back up again. Ohhh, she didn’t like it. Which meant she wouldn’t be able to go. Which meant Bryce couldn’t, either. But… Gah, Bryce really, really couldn’t wait much longer!
“Give it here, silly,” Elizabeth said.
Bryce handed the spoon over, grateful to have his other hand freed up at least. Immediately, it joined the first in clamping around his dick and practically trying to strangle the life out of it.
Elizabeth looked at the item… It could work. She knew a lot about human anatomy, she would of course have no trouble with knowing where to place its opening. And she could probably get away with just lifting her skirt up a little and pulling her underwear down some. No need to take everything off the waist down. She was incredibly shocked that Bryce would not only make this for her, but hold his own bladder until after he’d done so. She’d always gotten the impression that Bryce was pretty selfish, not the sort of person to put someone else’s needs before his own at all. Even if he didn’t like it, Elizabeth decided that he really was a sweet, sweet guy underneath his rough edges. “I think this might help,” she said. “Good idea, Bryce.”
And, even with his bladder still brimming with fizzing, boiling piss, Bryce felt great. People didn’t normally like his ideas. He seldom even HAD any real ideas. He’d never thought of himself as being creative. Whenever he fell victim to Kenneth’s mischievous jokes, Bryce could never come up with anything decent to strike back with.
He realized he’d been standing in front of her, basically jogging in place with his hands around his dick, for a few minutes now. “Y—You can use it? B—Because I really need—“
“I think so,” Elizabeth said. “Go ahead, Bryce. Use the sink.” ‘Teach it a lesson,’ she added to herself. After the hours it had spent tormenting her and her bladder, it deserved to get absolutely drowned in Bryce’s piss.
Bryce thought similarly. He hated that sink. It needed to be punished. It needed to soak up all of his wrath. He limped and stumbled over to it, unclasping his belt before he’d even arrived. Bouncing on his heels he made quick work of his buttons and zip, brought himself onto the tips of his toes and freed his penis, which he only just then realized had resumed dripping.
That didn’t matter anymore though. He was aimed. He was finally ready to let it out…
He was finally ready to let it out!
Ohhhh…. It wouldn’t come out!
He grunted and pushed hard against his muscles, straining to look behind himself. Elizabeth was facing the opposite direction already, standing at the trash bin and, he figured, likely trying to figure out the best way to ‘use’ it. She wasn’t watching him, she wasn’t paying attention to him. And she WANTED him to go right now. She WANTED him to flood this sink as badly as he wanted to do it himself!
Drip…
Dribble…
Trickle…
Hsssss…..
His floodgates slammed wide open, and out the torrent spilled. Immediately, he felt a million times better than he had in hours. The tension slowly sliding out through his pipes, bursting forth to create an explosion of relief… It made him start to pant and gasp and shiver with pleasure.
He also didn’t feel nearly as awkward doing this as he’d feared. Elizabeth had instructed him to pee into the sink, and here he was just doing as he’d been directed. He was doing the right thing, he was doing what had been asked of him. “Phew…” he sighed, trying hard not to moan too perversely.
Elizabeth, meanwhile, was indeed trying to empty her bladder into the bin. She’d stuck the spoon Bryce had given her into place. She was grateful for her time studying anatomy, as she knew if she hadn’t, she would have assumed the place where her urine came out was farther forwards than it actually was and then end up making a mess trying to do this. She knew she’d placed the opening where it needed to go, and she was standing as close to the bin as she could get so she didn’t think she’d miss it…
But, this was absolutely NOT the position she was used to peeing in. And, her body just didn’t seem to grasp what was expected of it now. The idea that it was actually time to pee wasn’t registering to it. It was like her bladder was saying ‘What is going on? This is NOT how we do this!’ and then stubbornly refusing to even give it a try.
She could hear Bryce going, could hear his stream pounding away into the sink, and it was making her NEED to let go a lot worse, but it wasn’t doing anything to help her actually ease her muscles and begin peeing. It just felt… Weird. There was no other way to describe it. It was just plain weird. After years and years of being conditioned to only urinate while seated, suddenly flipping the script wasn’t easy.
She remembered how confused she’d been to learn that Kenneth had difficulty urinating in spite of there being nothing physically wrong with his ‘pipes’. She remembered how confused she’d been to figure out that Kenneth couldn’t pee because of something unpleasant going on inside his brain, but now she almost kind of understood it. From her limited understanding of it, this wasn’t exactly like what Kenneth went through on a daily basis, but now the statement ‘I can’t pee because I’m too nervous’ didn’t sound very outlandish.
She heard Bryce’s release begin to slow, heard the last of his pee splash into the basin, heard him crank on the faucet a little further to wash the remains down the drain and clean his hands, and she still hadn’t let go of one drop.
Bryce turned back around, saw Elizabeth still there at the bin… There wasn’t any… Wetness around her, so he knew she hadn’t messed up with the spoon. He looked back away. “Er… Elizabeth? You finished?” he called.
Elizabeth felt silly about it, especially after that speech she’d given to Bryce about not being ashamed, but she was embarrassed. “I… Um… Bryce?”
“Y—Yes?”
“I… Can’t…” Elizabeth mumbled.
“You—“
“This… Feels strange, I’m not used to… Standing to do this. I can’t get it started.”
Bryce blushed all the way down to his feet as he remembered the few times he’d ‘assisted’ Kenneth when he’d had trouble voiding. He pictured himself doing that with Elizabeth now. That would be so much more awkward…
It really shouldn’t be, though! The times he’d helped Kenneth, he’d been able to… Well, he’d had a decent view of Kenneth’s dick as he’d held onto him and rubbed him. (And, yes, maybe a couple times an annoyingly uncontrollable little part of his brain would force him to think something like ‘You know, Kenneth has a pretty nice looking cock, doesn’t he?’, ‘Why in the world is he SO shy about whipping THAT out?!’ or ‘That’s a LOT bigger than I’d thought it’d be. Guess that’s where all his missing height went.’)
But, if he held onto Elizabeth like that, he wouldn’t see anything of the sort. If he looked down, he’d see the tube of the spoon poking out from beneath her skirt. Nothing private. Nothing of any interest. But, it would still feel so awkward. Holding onto a woman, rubbing her shoulders and helping her calm down while she peed standing up like a man… It would feel all kinds of strange.
Would she even WANT him touching her while she did something so personal?
He would save that for a last resort. Elizabeth, near as he could tell, was not pee shy like Kenneth was. Just a little nervous in a new and very foreign situation. There were probably other ways to help her go that weren’t so intimate.
Well, he knew one thing that usually got HIM peeing… He went back to the sink and cranked it on full blast. Liquid sprayed out of it loudly and forcefully, and although he’d only just emptied his bladder, Bryce tensed his thighs a bit at the noise. “W—Will this do anything?” he asked. It was sure doing something to him…
“Ohh…” Elizabeth groaned as the quantity of pee inside her seemed to multiply. She felt it all straining downwards, fighting to force its way out, felt a stinging little pinch, and then—
Hsss…
She was going.
She was still so freaked out by trying to relieve herself while fully upright like this, and her stream was coming out as little more than a dismal trickle. But, perhaps that was a good thing, she was sure the spoon was probably very easy to overflow if she went too much at once.
Speaking of the spoon though, it was really doing the trick! She didn’t feel any warmth going down her legs, and she watched as her liquid traveled down the tube and splashed into the trash can. This was working! This was actually working! And, even though she’d assumed this would help her, it was still amazing to actually see it happen. She was peeing, and she hadn’t needed to take everything off first, she hadn’t needed to squat, she hadn’t needed to wait for an actual toilet to present itself. She could go pretty much anywhere that Bryce or any of the other guys could now! That felt so good. All of it did. It was freeing to have found a solution to a problem that had left her squirming many times before. It was such a relief to let her bladder relax. And, it made her feel so fuzzy that Bryce apparently cared about her enough to help her out with this. “Ahhh…”
Bryce heard Elizabeth sigh and knew she’d succeeded. He didn’t hear her groan, so he knew the spoon was working out and she wasn’t spilling anything onto herself or the floor. He didn’t dare turn back around. He just kept staring at the sink. And at the thick stream of water gushing and gushing and gushing out of it. He couldn’t stop staring at it, and he absolutely couldn’t stop listening to it… He crossed his legs together. God, he seriously had to go AGAIN! He HATED that noise so much!
“Elizabeth—!” Bryce gasped out. He’d intended to ask her if she was almost finished because he was getting so uncomfortable from holding it in again, but he clammed up, nervous. And when Bryce got nervous, he of course said stupid things. “Whe—When you’re done… I’m not sure if it’s gonna be the same with the spoon, but I think you should make sure you shake it out a lot! A few times, I didn’t shake off good enough and I got a wet spot on—-“ Dear Lord in Heaven, what the fuck was he doing!? “N—Never mind!”
Elizabeth tried not to laugh, knowing she had to keep pretty still right now to make sure everything continued to flow correctly. But, Bryce was just so silly… It was a good thing she was nearly done, because she couldn’t hold back the laughter. Just as Bryce had said, she shook the spoon to get rid of the remaining residue. She was going to have to rinse it out as well, so she went back to the sink, finding Bryce there squirming away beside the still running faucet.
“Bryce, I thought you just went…” Elizabeth said.
Bryce now knew for sure that it wasn’t possible to actually die of embarrassment. If it was, he would have just keeled over. He didn’t want to admit what the problem was, he really, really didn’t want to…
Elizabeth was putting a hand on his forehead, “Did you hold it too long, dear? It’s not normal to have to go this often. Let me know if you have any burning or stingi—“
“I’m fine. It’s just… Th—The sound of water makes…” Bryce forced himself to say. “It… It’s always made me REALLY have to go. I don’t know why. If it rains at night, I barely get any sleep because I’m up to pee so many times.”
“Oh…” Elizabeth said. Then, she smiled. “It does that to me, too. The leaky faucet was driving me crazy.”
“Me too!” Bryce said, grinning. The shame that had been weighing him down all this time evaporated.
Elizabeth started to wash out the spoon, “Go ahead and use the bin, Bryce,” she said, watching as he continued to squirm.
And this time, Bryce listened without any argument. He hurried to the bin and unloaded his bladder, feeling so much better because Elizabeth understood. She didn’t think it was silly that a simple noise could leave him out of his mind with desperation after all.
It was hours before someone came by and managed to pop the door back open. And during that time, both Bryce and Elizabeth were continually taunted by the dripping of the sink. Each were up to pee again several more times, but Bryce no longer felt embarrassed and Elizabeth no longer struggled to get her stream to start while standing up. It was so much easier now, for both of them.
Outside, Bryce noticed that the sun had gone down. The moon was high in the sky. No doubt, Kenneth wanted to tear him about forty-seven new assholes right about now… Maybe he SHOULDN’T go free the guy’s hands just yet. Kenneth would have a much harder time strangling him without them.
But, Elizabeth said “Don’t forget about Kenneth,” so Bryce was left with no choice.
He assumed Kenneth must have gone back to his room, so he went there. The door was locked, which was unusual. They weren’t really supposed to lock the doors unless told to do so… Maybe Kenneth had just needed to pee, though. Bryce wouldn’t be too shocked if Kenneth locked the door to the restroom as well as the door to the whole room for that added bit of security…
Probably couldn’t pee with his hands tied though…
Bryce knocked on the door. “Paulson!” he shouted. “I’ve got a knife!”
That was probably not the most friendly greeting he could have made… He couldn’t imagine ever opening the door to someone screaming at him that they had a knife.
From the other side of the door, he heard a lot of rustling, a lot of whispering… Whispering that sounded almost scared? Jeez, he REALLY shouldn’t have yelled about the knife. He hadn’t meant to frighten anyone.
Then, Dwight had opened the door. “H—Hello, Bryce!” he greeted, and there was something in his tone Bryce had never heard before. His face was also extremely flushed, like he was coming down with a cold. And…
“Pffft,” Bryce snickered. “Your fly’s undone, Smith.”
Dwight gave a little jolt and quickly zipped it up. “S—Sorry…”
“Heheheh, were you walking around like that all day?” Bryce asked. “That’s hilarious.”
“M—Maybe…” Dwight said. “H—How silly of me… Eheh, so what did you need?”
“I got a knife to cut Paulson’s hands free,” Bryce said.
“Oh, don’t worry, I took care of that earlier. Right, Kenneth?”
“R—Right!” Kenneth shouted from somewhere behind him. There was a lot less anger in his voice than Bryce had expected.
“So… Yes,” Dwight said. “Goodnight, Bryce, I—“
“Paulson!” Bryce called. “I’m really sorry I was late, I got stuck in the storage room again! Someone really has to fix that door!”
“Th—They do,” Kenneth said. “G—Goodbye now!”
Dwight started to shut the door, but Bryce didn’t feel right. He’d expected some kind of an argument! Some kind of a blow-up, some kind of… Something! Kenneth was SUPPOSED to yell at him! Kenneth was SUPPOSED to call him all sorts of names and vow to have his revenge! But, instead they both seemed in a big hurry for him to just leave!
They must have already been plotting a prank of some sort to get back at him. That was it! “What are you doing?” Bryce asked, hoping the suspicion in his voice was clear. “What exactly are you up to in there?”
There was real fear that flashed in Dwight’s eyes then, which was not what Bryce had been expecting at all. “N—Nothing, Bryce. Just getting ready for bed. It is late. We are tired.”
Bryce narrowed his eyes. He knew Dwight was lying. He knew Kenneth must have cooked up a really nasty scheme this time.
A part of him was excited to see what it was.
“A likely story,” Bryce scoffed. “I know what you’re really doing.”
The fear in Dwight’s eyes was a lot more than a flash then. “We’re not,” he said. “Whatever you’re thinking— You have the wrong idea. And— And you don’t have to tell anyone. There’s nothing going on, okay?”
Bryce dropped his mocking tone. Something was off here. This wasn’t how Dwight acted when he and Kenneth were getting up to mischief. This wasn’t how Dwight acted… Ever. “Is there something wrong?”
“No,” Dwight said. “I mean… Kenneth’s hands are very sore. Those ropes were tight, he lost circulation for a bit. I’m just worried about him, that’s all.”
“Want me to look?” Bryce asked.
Dwight shook his head. “If… If he’s still hurt tomorrow, you can. I just think he needs to sleep it off, probably.”
“Probably,” Bryce agreed. “Tell him again that I didn’t mean to keep him waiting, okay?”
“I will,” Dwight promised.
“Goodnight,” Bryce said, watching as Dwight quickly closed the door again.
‘That was weird…’ Bryce thought. Dwight must have been very worried about Kenneth’s hands. Bryce had lost circulation in his hands a few times before when he’d gone to that club. If it went on for too long, he was supposed to use the special word they’d told him to use so they’d untie him right away.
He hoped Kenneth was alright tomorrow. |
Predictably, Kenneth was a lot more anxious about what had just transpired than Dwight was. “You should not have opened the door,” he said sharply. “He could have easily found out. We should have pretended to be asleep.”
“He wouldn’t have believed we were both able to sleep through him shouting about having a knife,” Dwight said. “Besides, it was fine. Nothing bad happened.”
“Not THIS time,” Kenneth said. “But, what about the next? If Bryce finds out—“
“You’re probably going to think I’m crazy,” Dwight said. “But, I don’t think Bryce would care that much.”
“Of course he would!” Kenneth said. “You know how he is about following rules, and you and I are breaking a BIG one right now. We both know this is the last thing we should be doing.”
Dwight didn’t reply. He felt a churning in his stomach. Kenneth wasn’t… Wrong, exactly. What they were doing really was forbidden, it really could get them both hurt if the wrong person found out about it. It sure didn’t feel good to hear Kenneth talk about it that way, though. What they ‘should’ have been doing and what they ‘needed’ to be doing were two different things. “But, I love you…”
“I love you, too,” Kenneth said. “That’s why I’m so scared. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Ever. No more risks like that. No more opening the door when we’re in the middle of—“
“I panicked,” Dwight admitted. “I thought it would be worse if we just stayed in here and let his mind wander.”
“He would have assumed we were asleep, surely,” Kenneth said. “Speaking of that, it’s late…” He left Dwight’s bed and started towards his own.
“Kenneth…” Dwight said, disappointment clear.
Kenneth didn’t want to sleep alone tonight. He wanted to fall asleep in Dwight’s arms, listening to his heart beat in his chest. He wanted to feel the warmth of his friend around him… He was just so nervous now. “G—Goodnight,” he said softly as he climbed into bed.
“Goodnight…” Dwight mumbled.
It took Dwight quite some time to fall asleep. His bed now felt empty and hollow without someone to hold through the night. He even considered taking some of Kenneth’s insomnia medication to help himself drift off, but thought better of it.
***
Dwight wasn’t sure which was worse; his way too empty stomach or his way too full bladder. He was dying to eat something— Anything, and he was dying to pee somewhere— Anywhere.
He hadn’t eaten in two days, and as he stood at the back of the agonizingly long line for the single toilet he had to share with dozens of other boys, he felt so weak and dizzy that he could barely stand up on his tightly crossed legs.
It wasn’t that the nuns didn’t want to feed him. They never denied the boys in the orphanage meals as a punishment. They wanted all of the children to have plenty to eat, but that seldom ever happened.
Dwight tried not to be angry each night he went to bed with an empty stomach, but when hunger ripped through him as he struggled to sleep, it was hard not to. The worst part was he didn’t know who he was angry at. He knew the nuns were doing their best, so he couldn’t be upset with them. The other boys were just as hungry as he was, so it wasn’t their fault, either. Dwight didn’t understand why there was hardly ever anything to eat, though he had heard some of the nuns speak in whispers about the town’s mayor ‘misusing funds’. He didn’t know what ‘funds’ were, but he wondered if that meant that the mayor was who he should have been angry at.
He felt cold all of the time, his body was so hollow and empty. His life was so hollow and empty. Unlike some of the boys here whom had lost their parents to illness or other tragedies, Dwight didn’t even know who his parents were. He’d been in the orphanage for as long as he could remember. He was five when he worked out what that must have meant; His parents had looked at him as a baby, and decided they just didn’t want him. He’d cried so hard the day he’d realized that.
One of the nuns tried to comfort him, she promised that his parents actually had wanted him very much, but that they were broke and didn’t have a home for him to grow up in. She said that his mother had been crying a lot when she’d dropped him off, pleading with the nuns to make sure he was safe and always had somewhere to sleep. Dwight wasn’t sure if that story was true, but if it was it didn’t make him feel much better. Either his parents had never loved him, or they were out somewhere with broken hearts and always wondering if he was okay.
Dwight may have always had somewhere to sleep, but beyond that he had nothing. What he most wanted was a friend, but he couldn’t have that. All of the boys here were small, their bodies shrunken by lack of food, but Dwight was both tiny and timid. He was the sort to give into things without much of a fight, and so he was always shoved around and taken advantage of.
Dwight always felt so empty.
And, that was kind of why he had to go pee so badly right now.
Occasionally, the clawing within his stomach would get so painful for Dwight that he just had to put something in himself to feel less hollow. With food so hard to come by, water became his only means of survival, his only means of staving off the ache. He’d go to the sink, crank it on, and chug the liquid until he finally felt full.
But, soon enough, he’d start feeling full in a way that wasn’t pleasant at all. He was only young, and his body was always so fatigued; He couldn’t hold his pee for that long no matter how hard he tried. A slight urge would become an emergency for him in a matter of minutes. The orphanage had one bathroom, and Dwight would often find himself doubled over, very nearly crying as he began to get damp before he made it through the line.
This time, the line seemed longer than ever. Dwight craned his head around the boys right in front of him, trying to see where it ended and make a guess as to how long he still had left to wait. His knees were knocking together and he wished he could just skip ahead of everyone else and go! By the looks of things, some of the boys ahead of him didn’t even have to go that badly! It was unfair! The line should be organized according to who had to go the worst, not according to who just got there first!
Dwight’s heart was beating rapid-fire in his chest. There had been several times where he hadn’t been able to last through the line. There had been several times where he’d made a big puddle on the floor and everyone had laughed as he shook and cried. The nuns were usually nice about it. They’d make him clean up his mess himself, but they were never mean. The other boys, though? They could be monstrous. Every accident netted Dwight at least one week of constant teasing, of being told he needed to wear diapers, of being called a baby. Dwight would always well up with tears from all the taunts, and that only made them laugh more as he confirmed to them that he really WAS a baby.
Dwight had had accidents so many times by now that he could tell when one was coming. He knew how his body would feel in the minutes leading up to a disaster. He could recognize the feelings that meant he was about to go in his pants again.
He had to do something! He couldn’t take the embarrassment again, he just couldn’t! His eyes were already starting to well up. He had to… There was an outhouse located back behind the orphanage that hadn’t been used since before Dwight was born. He didn’t know if he was still allowed to go pee in it… Nor did he know if he could even MAKE it there in time.
There was… Ohhh, there had to be something— There just—
There was a bucket. An old, dusty bucket in the corner of the hallway, one that held screws and things that had fallen out of the walls over the years. He could— He HAD to—
Before really making the decision, he’d run to the bucket as fast as he could. He lowered his pants and let himself finally relax. Phew… That was close! Dwight smiled. He felt so proud of himself for thinking of something just in time!
He knew everyone still in line was staring at him, he could feel their eyes searing into his back. They were probably jealous because he’d thought of this first and didn’t have to hold it now. Dwight was nice, though. Once he was done, he’d move aside and let someone else go here. He didn’t think he could fill the whole bucket up all by himself.
Dwight got a little lost in how good he felt now. So lost that he didn’t hear his name being called until the person was shouting. He jumped, and looked behind himself for a second to find one of the nuns, Sister Isabelle, staring at him with a look of astonishment on her face. “What are you DOING?”
And, with that, Dwight snapped out of it. This hadn’t been a good idea at all. He knew he was in trouble now. He couldn’t hide this, he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t peeing into the bucket. Especially since, because he’d started going he couldn’t make it stop now. He just kept standing there, using the bucket, unsure of what to say for himself. Even when he was finally done, he couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Dwight!” Isabelle said, sharpness in her tone.
The tears from earlier returned. Dwight hated being punished. He hated feeling like he’d upset somebody or done something horrible! He hadn’t MEANT to be bad, he’d just… “Th—The line was too long, I really had to go…” he tried to explain.
“That doesn’t mean you can… Do THAT anywhere other than a toilet,” Isabelle said. “Come with me, we need to talk about this.”
Dwight followed after her, the backs of his eyes were stinging and a pressure was caught in his throat. Once they were in one of the bedrooms, Isabelle began “Dwight, you’re usually so well behaved, I can’t believe you’d—“
Dwight choked out the sob that had been caught in his mouth for the last several minutes. “I—I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “I couldn’t hold it anymore!” He started to rub beneath his eyes, wiping at his nose. “I tried, I promise, but I couldn’t!”
Isabelle’s tone softened a little. She’d thought he’d peed in the bucket as a joke, an attempt to make the other boys laugh. But, he was sobbing so hard now. He must have been telling the truth. “You still shouldn’t have done it there,” she said gently.
“I— I didn’t have anywhere else, I was about to—“
“Let’s see if we can help you out,” Isabelle said. She left the room for a moment, and when she returned she had a ceramic bowl. Dwight recognized what it was. If one of the boys was badly sick and needed to stay in bed, he would be given a pot like that to keep under his bed so he could go pee without getting up. “I’ve noticed you don’t seem to be able to wait as long as some of the other children can,” she said. “Maybe it would help if you kept this underneath your bed so you always have somewhere you can go right away?”
Dwight’s tears started to dry. His face stung, and he wasn’t sure if it was from crying so hard or from being embarrassed that he couldn’t ‘wait as long as some of the other children’ could… “Y—Yes,” he said. “That would help. Thank you.”
Isabelle set down the pot and reached to hug him. Dwight wondered if this was what a Mother’s hug felt like. It was so soft, so good, and so, so warm…
Really, really warm, actually…
***
Dwight’s eyes slowly slid open. He blinked a few times, trying to forget about that dream— Or memory, rather. It had been a while since he’d last thought about anything that had happened in his life before meeting Kenneth. And what an odd event to suddenly remember like that.
Strangely, considering the topic of his dream, Dwight did not feel any urge to get out of bed and relieve his bladder. It felt perfectly empty. He rolled back over, and—
And felt something squish between his legs.
Fuck.
He knew what he was about to find, but even so, when he pulled down his sheet and saw his wet boxers and the soaked sheet beneath him he groaned. Maybe it was actually a GOOD thing Kenneth hadn’t slept here tonight. Dwight would probably have a heart attack if he’d managed to drench both of them.
God dammit. Why did this happen NOW? He hadn’t done this since he was twelve! He didn’t think he’d drank any more water than he usually did yesterday, and before he went to sleep he’d… Skipped using the toilet. Right. He’d been fully focused on talking to Kenneth. So focused that he’d gone to sleep with an un-emptied bladder. He couldn’t believe he’d actually done that. It was even more baffling when he remembered all the trouble he’d had getting to sleep. Through all that tossing and turning and unintended wakefulness, the pressure that was no doubt pulsing down his length the whole time hadn’t pierced his brain.
And now, he had another problem. He couldn’t get new sheets until tomorrow— And, he’d better come up with a good excuse before he made the request for them. He also wouldn’t have an opportunity to wash them for several days. He definitely didn’t want to sleep in his puddle now. It was really cold, and the stench of his urine made his nose crinkle.
Kenneth’s bed was still perfectly dry, though…
Dwight stood from his bed, peeled off his wet boxers and put on a fresh pair, then quietly went to his friend’s bed. He stayed standing beside it, watching as Kenneth thrashed about in his sheets, moving like an angry tornado. Every so often, his arms would reach out in front of him and wave around, before his hands curled back against his chest.
Kenneth never moved around so much when they shared a bed, he was always completely still then. Dwight thought Kenneth was probably having a bad dream, but even when he had nightmares when they were sleeping together, he didn’t toss and turn like this… Perhaps, Dwight considered with some embarrassment as he looked back at the dampness coating his own bed, Kenneth was squirming because he just needed to ‘go’ and couldn’t wake up. Dwight couldn’t recall Kenneth visiting the restroom before sleep, either.
Dwight thought about waking him, he wouldn’t want both of them to have wet beds tonight… Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember Kenneth ever wetting the bed before. He was sure he must have had accidents in his sleep back at his Father’s house, if only because of the terrible rules there. But, other than that… Kenneth hadn’t ever peed the bed when he’d spent the night with Dwight when they were little.
Dwight crawled into bed beside his friend, still wondering if he needed to wake the other man up for a pee break. But, as soon as he’d nestled under the covers next to him, Kenneth’s anxious, uncomfortable squirming all ceased. Dwight’s eyes widened as he braced himself for the warm feeling of his friend accidentally wetting the sheets, but it didn’t come. Dwight did feel a lot warmer though.
Kenneth had wrapped his arms around him, and had gone completely still and relaxed. Dwight yawned and snuggled closer. He’d been what Kenneth needed to sleep soundly all along…
***
When the alarm went off the following morning, Dwight tiredly opened his eyes and Kenneth very abruptly opened his. There was obvious panic on his face, his pupils darting in all directions, his teeth gnashing. Dwight sat up, prepared to apologize for sneaking into his bed last night when Kenneth had told him not to, but when Kenneth opened his mouth and announced “I’m going to burst! Get out of my way, NOW!” Dwight knew that he wasn’t the cause for his uneasiness after all.
Dwight crawled over enough to give Kenneth the space to fling himself out of bed and immediately perform an elaborate, desperate dance on the spot. Dwight could see the way his pajama bottoms clung tightly to a firm, swollen curve in his center, but his view was quickly obstructed when Kenneth mashed his hands against his dick.
When Kenneth headed for the restroom, he did so with his knees glued against one another, only barely able to make himself walk. Dwight quite honestly found himself feeling so bad for the poor guy that he considered getting out of bed and just carrying him the last few feet to the toilet. Kenneth made it there on his own though, thankfully. And, to Dwight’s amazement, he didn’t shut the door behind himself.
Even more astonishing, it only took a second or two for Dwight to hear an intensely forceful stream begin… ‘Wow,’ Dwight thought. ‘Poor thing was exploding…’ Kenneth’s release sounded like an immense, disastrous hurricane that could leave entire cities under water for months. The pressure of his pee echoed, the hiss so hard and so fast… And the only thing louder than all that gushing liquid was Kenneth’s moaning. “Ahhhh… God, Dwight,” he called. “Don’t you EVER let me forget to do this before bed again!”
“Eheh… Of course not, Kenneth…” Dwight said with a blush. Remembering WHY he’d had to sleep beside his friend last night, he thought it really ought to have been Kenneth reminding HIM to relieve his bladder before sleeping.
Kenneth kept pouring away, groaning and panting and altogether being very, VERY vocal about how much better he was feeling. The sounds affected Dwight in several ways. First and foremost, all that moaning turned him on so much that the race of his heart in his ears very nearly covered up the sound of Kenneth peeing. Second, and much less pleasantly, all that hissing and trickling made his own bladder thrash and ache and BEG its owner so, so loudly for relief. Dwight blushed at the lewd direction of his thoughts, then crossed his legs and let them bounce. He wished he could just hear Kenneth moan and gasp like that WITHOUT a noisy spray of pee underscoring it and making him really, really need the toilet. He’d gotten to experience that for a little while last night, but then Bryce had gone and ruined it.
Speaking of Bryce going and ruining things, the door to their room cracked open, and there Bryce was. “Paulson, are your hands doing bett— Uhhhhhh….” Bryce froze, standing like a shocked statue in the doorway as he stared straight ahead, straight through the open restroom door, straight at Kenneth still pissing like hadn’t gone in days.
Kenneth jumped, startled out of his mind. A spurt of pee hit the rim of the bowl and then his bladder locked up tighter than a maximum security prison; Nothing else was getting out of there any time soon. The most awful feeling slammed into him then, a sharp, horrific jab against his pee-hole, like he was being pinched in what was literally the most sensitive part of his body. Kenneth’s heart thumped away, his pulse raced, his lungs tightened and felt like they were going to break.
The door to their room had been unlocked all night.
Dwight had forgotten to lock it again after Bryce had left, and THEN he’d crawled into Kenneth’s bed, and they’d cuddled there all night long.
With the door unlocked.
Someone could have come in at any time.
Someone could have seen.
Kenneth stood at the toilet a few moments longer, struggling to get the rest of his urine to flow, but it just wouldn’t. It couldn’t. The pressure at his opening was immense, his sphincters in agony at having their relaxation time cut short with no warning. Defeated, he put his dick back away and spun around. “Bryce…” he said. “Ha—Haven’t you ever heard of knocking, you complete and utter… Um… Emperor of the Dunces?” he settled on. His brain was firing on all cylinders, but not on one that allowed him to think of good insults.
“I don’t have to,” Bryce said. “I have the right to go where I please, you moronic little dick-pastry.” He smiled. If Kenneth was insulting him, that meant he was feeling better and hadn’t injured his hands too badly after all! “Your hands are perfectly fine now, I trust?”
“Y—Yes,” Kenneth stammered, rocking from foot to foot. It somehow felt like he was more desperate to go than he’d been at any other point this morning! “Please leave,” he added sharply.
Bryce watched Kenneth’s little dance, “I thought you just went…” he said with a chuckle.
“I couldn’t finish!” Kenneth spat out hurriedly. “You startled me, and I stopped, and I still have to go, so leave!”
Bryce winced at Kenneth’s words. He’d been interrupted mid-flow before too, and it was one of the most painful feelings— It didn’t even hurt in a GOOD way, either. “I… I apologize, Paulson,” he said. “You may continue…” And then he left.
Immediately, Kenneth lowered his pajama bottoms again and aimed, eager to finish what he’d started… But, it wouldn’t come out… “Mmmf…” he whimpered, rubbing below his navel. He knew what relief felt like from before… He wanted that back NOW! But, all he could think about were all the stupid risks he and Dwight kept taking, all the dumb mistakes they kept making, how they were GOING to be found out at this rate and someone was going to hurt them… “D—Dwight…” he whined.
Dwight stood and came closer, “What’s the matter?” he asked.
“I can't get it working again…” Kenneth groaned, bouncing up and down with equal parts frustration and desperation. Anger was flooding his veins. He was in HIS room, at HIS toilet, where he was supposed to ALWAYS be able to pee! He’d BEEN peeing, even! He couldn’t believe he was so locked up again… “Please, help me? Please?"
Dwight’s chest clenched. Why was Kenneth having so much trouble all of the sudden? He was in his safe place, and yeah, Bryce had startled him, but he’d been getting pretty okay with having Bryce around while he went lately…
Dwight’s own bladder was cramping and lurching at the sight of the toilet, he too wished Kenneth had been able to finish up already. But, his own need had to take a backseat for now. Kenneth was tearing up, had come close to sort of BEGGING him for what he needed… Dwight took Kenneth into his arms and rubbed tender circles into his back, “You’re alright…” he soothed. “Just us… It’s just us… You and me… You’re safe… Just the two of us…”
Kenneth let Dwight’s words and gentle touches wash over him, his body going loose and happy until he felt his pee right at his tip, just about to break free—
But, then he had a thought.
A terrible, awful, horrible thought that made everything just stop.
Dwight holding him, caressing him and whispering sweetly into his ear… Dwight doing those things while he had his cock out… People had some idea that Dwight did this for him, people had seen them go to the restroom together before. So, people probably knew that Dwight basically snuggled him while he had his dick in his hands, knew that Dwight did this thing with him that was so deeply personal and intimate in every way…
This was something that could make it easier for someone to… Figure it out, wasn’t it?
All of the relaxation that Dwight had managed to bestow upon him vanished, Kenneth grew tenser and tenser, his bladder becoming more and more stubborn and anxious.
Several minutes passed, and Dwight felt his concern build, as well as his own desperation. But, the pressure pounding against his pee-hole was nothing compared to the fear in his heart. Why… Why wasn’t this working?! This ALWAYS worked! ALWAYS. And it NEVER took this long if they were truly alone like this. “Kenneth… Shhhhh….” Dwight whispered gently, his voice wavering with unspoken panic. “Shhh… Shhhh…Shhh…” he repeated, doing his best to mimic the sound of a stream and ignoring the way it made his own bladder tremble.
Still nothing.
Dwight reached and flicked on the sink before placing his hand against Kenneth’s back once more. “You’re okay, Kenneth…” he repeated over and over, but his friend just continued to shake and twitch… And hold it…
“I—It’s not working…” Kenneth finally gave voice to the panicked litany in Dwight’s brain.
“Kenneth, what’s… What’s wrong, darling?” Dwight asked.
Instead of calming him, the sweet term only made Kenneth feel more scared. He wanted to scream it to Dwight, wanted to shout “People are going to find out everything just because of THIS!”, wanted to tell his friend how scared he felt inside… But the words were lost to him, caught behind his clenched teeth, and finally he managed to hiss out a pained “I don’t know… It’s just not working.”
Dwight took a few shaky steps back. Again, the sound of his heart in his ears overpowered all over stimuli, but now it was terror causing it instead of arousal. This was supposed to work. This ALWAYS worked! If… If this didn’t work, then…
It was getting worse again.
The awful monster inside Kenneth’s brain and body, the one that Dwight had worked so hard to exorcise from him for years, was only becoming more powerful and controlling. It was so strong now that Dwight could no longer subdue it, much less finally defeat it for good… He felt a terrible hollowness within himself, the same one he’d felt in his dream the night before. The horrible emptiness, the sensation that he was lacking something very important.
He couldn’t help his friend anymore. He wasn’t what Kenneth needed anymore…
But, even if that was the case, Kenneth still needed help here. He couldn’t hold it forever, his pee had to come out… “I’ll… I’ll go get Bryce!” Dwight decided. “He can try it instead, okay?”
Kenneth shook his head back and forth rapidly. ‘No, don’t get Bryce!’ he wanted to yell. ‘Bryce is so close to figuring IT out! Don’t bring him here!’
“N—No Bryce?” Dwight asked. “O…Okay, um…” He stomped his feet against the ground. This would be so much easier to figure out if he could think clearly! His brain was mush right now, chaotic, simmering mush. He was so scared, so upset, and he needed to use the toilet very badly! None of those things were very conductive to thinking. He wished he could just shove Kenneth aside, tear his cock free of his boxers and let it flow so he could solve at least one of his problems.
But, he didn’t dare release a stream when his poor friend was suffering. That wouldn’t help Kenneth at all. That would make him tear up, make him cry out “That’s so unfair! Don’t do that in front of me now!” So, as much as Dwight’s bladder was pleading with him for relief, he was not about to give it any.
“O—Okay,” Dwight repeated. “Elizabeth,” he said. “Um…” He knew exactly what he wanted to tell Kenneth. In the back of his mind, he’d always been preparing for the possibility of this day; The day where he… Wouldn’t be able to make Kenneth better anymore. A day where Kenneth would need something more serious. He’d always done his best to push the idea of this day out of his brain, to convince himself it would never truly come… But, it had, and now that it had, it was so hard to make himself say the words.
“Uh… If you really, really can’t go… If… If nothing works anymore…” Dwight sucked in a deep breath, the action making his bladder contract hard, but he didn’t care. Kenneth needed him more than HE needed a pee. “If… I can’t help you now…” he felt like he was drowning, like he was choking. He could hardly take in enough air. He wasn’t good enough. He couldn’t make Kenneth better… “There is a way for you to… To get your bladder emptied. I… Need to take you to the medical building, and…” he put a hand against his forehead. He felt so clammy, feverish. He had the image in his mind now, the image of the thing he’d always wanted so much to save Kenneth from… “And… They’re going to… Insert something into you. Into your… Up through where the pee comes out, into your bladder, and that’s going to… To take it out for you”
Kenneth, for the first time in minutes, went still. “Wh—What?”
Dwight pulled him close once more, held him firmly. “I’m so sorry…” he said. “I tried my best, I never wanted it to come to this… I’ve… asked about it, Elizabeth’s promised it won’t hurt you.” He didn’t see how that would possible, however. He’d seen the device. A sharp looking thing was about to be inserted into his friend’s penis, no way was that going to feel alright… At the least, Kenneth was going to be terrified through the whole thing. Dwight was going to squeeze his hand, of course, but that was only going to help so much…
“Nah—No,” Kenneth said, and he was using his ‘powerful’ voice, the one he used when he wanted everyone around him to understand that his whims were of the utmost importance and his every wish was to be obeyed. “No. That is not happening. No.”
“Kenneth…” Dwight said. “If I can’t… If nothing works anymore, you need medical intervention. You—“ Dwight stopped abruptly because he’d realized Kenneth was crying. “Hey… Don’t cry… Don’t cry… It’s—“
“I hate myself!”
“No—“
“I— I’m going to have something shoved up my freaking DICK because I can’t figure out how to freaking PISS!” Kenneth exclaimed. “I— I… I’m so broken, Dwight. I’m so pathetic, I’m so—“
“You are not,” Dwight said, tightening his embrace. “You have a medical problem, so we’re going to get you taken care of. That’s all, that’s—“
Kenneth sniffed hard, “I— I don’t want people to find out…”
“Elizabeth won’t tell anybody unless she HAS to, and I won’t say—“
“N—Not about that,” Kenneth said. “About… You holding me and making me go, I’m scared people will figure out the rest because of that…”
Some of the clouds in Dwight’s vision began to fade away, giving way to bright, sunny clarity. Was that what was making Kenneth so intensely nervous today? “Kenneth… Bryce does this for you too, doesn’t he?”
“Y—Yeah… Sometimes.”
“And, you don’t do ANY of the ‘other stuff’ with Bryce,” Dwight said. “Nobody THINKS you do any of the ‘other stuff’ with Bryce. So, why would they think that about me just because of this?”
Kenneth’s shaking started to subside, “Y—You don’t think they will?” he asked timidly.
“I don’t think so,” Dwight promised. “Most people who see us duck behind trees together, or go to the restroom at the same time… You really think their first thought is that I’m going to rub you and hold you while you go, and then they’ll jump straight from that to everything else?”
Hearing it out loud like that, it did sound pretty far-fetched. “I— I guess not…”
“I know not,” Dwight said gently. “This is just our own little, private thing. Just for us…” he started to stroke Kenneth’s back again. “You’re safe, I’m here. You’re always safe when I’m here… Let it out now, okay? Can you do that for me? Please, Kenneth? I want you to go pee for me now, okay?”
At those words, Kenneth’s bladder finally relaxed again, his stream spraying as ferociously as it had done earlier. “Ahhhh….” he moaned once more. “Finallyyyy…”
Dwight released some of the air from his lungs, relief flowing over him… And out of him! His own bladder had sprung a leak and he clutched his cock firmly in his hand. “Uh—Um, Kenneth? C—Could you move over a little, please!?”
Kenneth did as requested and Dwight yanked his boxers down, allowing them to pool around his feet as he let it all flow. “Mmmmm….” he hummed. “That’s better…” Kenneth turned his head slightly to look at his friend’s now nude body. He hadn’t thought about it before, but Dwight had… Well, a very nice looking ass… Kenneth had never thought he’d enjoy looking at a person’s ass, especially not THIS much… His eyes flicked over to Dwight’s cock, and he couldn’t decide which attribute of his friend he liked better. Even now, with his dick spraying out a hearty stream of urine, Kenneth was very pleased by the view.
Kenneth was finally empty, but he stayed standing there, which perhaps made his peeking a little TOO obvious to Dwight, whom smiled at him. “Heh, you like what you see?” he teased.
“Y—Yes…” Kenneth admitted.
After they’d both finished, Kenneth walked back out to change. Only then did he finally notice the damp spot in Dwight’s bed. “Dwight… Um… Is THAT why you slept with me last night?” he asked.
“Y—Yeah,” Dwight admitted, embarrassed. “I’ll get new sheets and stuff… It won’t happen again.” |
Wetting the bed for the first time in years must have flipped some kind of switch in Dwight’s body, because it happened yet again the very next night. He’d done all the right things that time, too. He’d peed before heading to sleep, and hadn’t drank much before bed… Still, he’d found himself dreaming about needing the restroom very badly and just barely making it, then he woke up damp.
The next several nights were dry, and then the worst thing imaginable happened; Dwight peed the bed when Kenneth was sleeping next to him. Kenneth had even been the first to wake up, fidgeting at the unpleasant sensation of cold, damp liquid coating his backside. When it registered what had happened, he’d yelped.
Dwight had apologized to him over and over again, and hoped it wouldn’t make Kenneth want to stop sharing the bed with him. He could tell Kenneth was trying very hard not to yell at him, not to say “Dwight, this is vile!” and make him feel ashamed.
“I—It’s okay…” Kenneth had managed. “We can just change and go back to sleep…”
Kenneth had even made it a point to cuddle as close to Dwight as he could for the rest of the night to make up for the revolted expression he was sure had been on his face. Then, the next night, Kenneth had agreed to sleep with him again with no hesitation. It really WAS okay.
Dwight stayed dry that night. And the night after that. But, then, he had a major accident, one that drenched him, Kenneth, the sheets, and the mattress.
Exhausted, Kenneth sat up, trying not to let the disgust show on his face as he felt his boxers clinging to him… He hated himself for thinking it, but if he HAD to be soaked in urine right now, he really wished it could have been his own and not someone else’s. “Dwight… Why is this happening so much now?”
“I don’t know…” Dwight mumbled, feeling horribly ashamed. “I… I didn’t do it since I was a little, and now suddenly—“
“What time do you stop drinking each day?” Kenneth asked.
“Well… The hydration regimen we have to do,” Dwight reminded. “I have to stick to that, so I can’t stop drinking before six…”
Six should have left plenty of time for Dwight’s body to process all of his water, though…
“IS that when you stop?”
“Ever since this started getting bad, yes,” Dwight said. “And I’m so thirsty when I’m trying to go to sleep…”
“And, you have been peeing right before bed,” Kenneth said. “So, that’s not it… Are you having bad dreams?”
“No,” Dwight shook his head. “The first time it happened, I dreamed about a memory from when I was little. But, every time after that it’s just been you and me out somewhere, and I have to go very badly and find somewhere to do it right at the last second.”
“Oh…” Kenneth said. He’d certainly had dreams of that nature before. In his case, they usually involved him being filled to the brim and unable to find even the tiniest bit of privacy to relieve himself in. He typically woke up and rushed to the real toilet before his dream decided to provide him with one itself. “Well… How about this; When you’re about to pee, try and make sure you’re not dreaming?”
“How do I—“
“Pinch yourself,” Kenneth suggested. “Or… I don’t know, look around and think about if something is weird or out of place. Just, some indication that you’re asleep.”
“I… Guess,” Dwight said.
And the two changed their clothes and went back to bed.
***
Even though Dwight had completely soaked the bed last night, when morning came he was aching for the restroom. He glanced towards the door and saw it was shut… He was going to have to wait.
Inside the restroom, Kenneth was finishing his morning piss and mulling over Dwight’s problem. Kenneth didn’t feel he was doing such a great job supporting his friend through this. He’d been cringing, groaning and wrinkling up his nose every single time Dwight accidentally got him wet. He was trying very hard not to let it show how disgusting it made him feel to be covered in someone else’s urine, but Kenneth was never very skilled at covering up his true feelings on much of anything.
The last thing Kenneth ever wanted was for Dwight to think he was disgusted by HIM. Because he really wasn’t! Dwight was not doing this on purpose, Dwight was even more upset by it every time it happened than Kenneth was…
… Probably because he thought Kenneth was repulsed by him.
Kenneth had seen the sadness on Dwight’s face last night when Kenneth had winced upon accidentally putting his hand in the puddle on the bed. Dwight definitely thought it was HIM Kenneth was grossed out by, and not just the acrid smell of his accident…
Kenneth’s reactions were making Dwight feel awful, they were making him feel even more awful than the accidents would have made him feel on their own.
Kenneth just needed to think of a way to let Dwight know that he DIDN’T think he was gross, some way to reassure him everything was still okay, even if he did have a wet bed some nights.
***
Dwight paced back and forth outside the restroom, wondering what was taking Kenneth so long. He’d heard the toilet flush ages ago, he knew the other was no longer urinating. Dwight was beginning to grow impatient, and his bladder was even more fed up with waiting than he was!
Dwight tried to distract himself as more and more time passed and the door stayed shut. He was pretty stuck on the previous night’s embarrassment, however. The shame at how childish it all was stuck like a thick paste to his brain.
At least, if this had to be happening, it was Kenneth that he was sharing a room with. He and Kenneth really were lucky they had been assigned a room together. They’d been warned ahead of time that this was done at random and they could have ended up with anyone, but they’d gotten each other and couldn’t have been happier.
If Kenneth had been assigned a different partner, Dwight was sure he would have found whoever it was irritating for one reason or another; Mostly just because they’d committed the unforgivable sin of NOT being Dwight. Not to mention, if Kenneth was sharing this room with someone else, he’d probably be limited to only emptying his bladder once that person was asleep, necessitating him holding for even more extreme lengths of time than he did now.
If Dwight had been assigned a different partner, he would probably barely talk to them. Kenneth was more interesting to talk to. He could talk to Kenneth for hours about nothing at all and never get bored. Conversing with other people grew tedious fast, and he never stopped thinking ‘Oh, if Kenneth was here, HE would have said THIS…’
If Dwight had been assigned a different partner, then when he’d started to have these new nighttime… ‘issues’, he was sure that other person would have made fun of him or found him repulsive and childish. But, Kenneth didn’t do those things. Kenneth had kept telling him it was okay, and had even given him that great suggestion to help make it stop.
Kenneth didn’t mock him for his problem, and didn’t think he was gross, and so long as Dwight always made sure he was awake before he peed, this problem should go away in no time at all!
Speaking of peeing, the door was finally opening, and—
Kenneth was…
God…
He’d put his uniform on… Sort of. The shirt was unbuttoned, giving Dwight a very nice view of his chest, and his pants were unzipped exposing his pubic hair and the topmost part of his shaft…
Well then.
Dwight squeezed his thighs together at another pang from his bladder. He wasn’t going to be emptying it any time soon; He was still asleep!
“Kenneth—“
Kenneth walked up to Dwight and trailed a finger lightly down his chest. He was blushing all the way up to his ears. “The door is locked…” he said. “We have some spare time before we have to leave…”
Dwight couldn’t remember any of his other bathroom emergency dreams incorporating these sorts of elements— And this very much still WAS a bathroom emergency dream! As Kenneth had been rubbing his chest, Dwight had been swaying from side to side while his bladder sent him several urgent signals; ‘Play with Kenneth after! Use the toilet now! It’s right there!’
Dwight couldn’t use the toilet, though. If he did, he’d wake up with wet sheets yet again.
Besides, now Kenneth had grabbed him and was shoving him against the wall, pinning him there. Kenneth leaned in and connected their lips, flicking his tongue into Dwight’s mouth.
Even though he really had to pee, Dwight was starting to think that he liked this dream. He’d tell Kenneth about it after he'd managed to wake up… He was going to blush so much, it was going to be adorable!
Kenneth stuck his leg in between Dwight’s and parted them, deepening the kiss. Dwight moaned into Kenneth’s mouth, scorching heat traveling all through his body. He leaned against Kenneth’s leg, at first purely out of lust and then because he discovered how much the extra pressure helped out his still worsening bladder situation.
Kenneth finally drew back after several minutes, giving Dwight one last kiss on the cheek. “I love you,” he said. “Don’t you ever think that I don’t.”
Kenneth finished buttoning his shirt and zipping his pants. Dwight was disappointed to have it ending so quickly, but knew that if that had gone on much longer, he would have woken up with wet sheets even if he DIDN’T let go of his bladder!
Dwight got dressed as well, turning to look at the toilet. His bladder convulsed. He so rarely left the barrack without allowing it to release first. It was confused why that wasn’t happening now. He shuffled from foot to foot, thinking about how nice it would feel to empty out…
He remembered the other thing Kenneth had suggested, and reached to pinch himself on the arm lightly. Parts of this dream had been very, very nice, but he really needed to go and had to wake up now!
He didn’t wake up…
So, then did that mean this WASN’T a dream?
No, it had to be. Kenneth didn’t flirt. He blushed and stammered and said “Y—Yes, I would like to do something with you,” whenever Dwight flirted with HIM.
“Think about if something is weird or out of place,” was what Kenneth had told him. And, Kenneth FLIRTING with him was VERY weird and out of place!
This definitely was a dream, so he just had to keep holding it. He’d wake up eventually, and then he’d get all the relief he needed.
A little while later as he stood at his post, Dwight felt like he needed all of the relief in the world. He was shuffling his feet and twisting his hips, his toes were curling up with tension inside his boots. He couldn’t stop tugging on his belt, trying in vain to get it to rest somewhere other than atop his aching bladder.
Bryce was supervising him, as usual, and noticed his squirming right away. Dwight felt himself blush every time Bryce stared at his crossed legs and tense shoulders. Even if this was a dream, the embarrassment of doing such an obvious pee-dance felt as real as could be.
Dwight couldn’t believe he was having such a hard time waking up! He didn’t think he’d ever had to go THIS badly during a dream before! In all of his pee-themed dreams, he’d been bursting within an inch of his life, but this time it was starting to actually hurt! His opening was stinging and his bladder was boiling, and the pressure inside him was beginning to encompass his entire lower half.
This dream was being SO mean, too! Bryce kept opening up his canteen and noisily swallowing gulps of water from it. Each time Bryce did that, Dwight’s thighs would clench even tighter. Plus, Dwight had relieved himself right here at his post loads and loads of times before, he wouldn’t be surprised if the grass in this spot got ‘watered’ more by him than by anything else. Whenever he was told he had to stand here, he’d turn around, unzip and release several times during the course of the day.
His bladder was so perplexed. ‘You pee here ALL the time!’ it seemed to whine. ‘You’re allowed to go right now! Please, just do it?’ But, Dwight had to hold it. He wasn’t REALLY at his post right now, after all. He was in bed.
‘Pleaaaase wake up,’ Dwight silently begged himself. ‘I’m gonna burst…’ Again, he tried pinching himself, but again he just couldn’t seem to do it hard enough!
Or, maybe it wasn’t really a dream?
Dwight considered that. Ever since the thing this morning with Kenneth being overly flirtatious, everything else had been perfectly normal. Everything in his surroundings looked the same as it had every day. Bryce had greeted him with an “Alright, now stand there and be quiet, moron…” just like always. The warmth of the sun on his face felt real, the feeling of his belt squeezing the life out of his bloated bladder felt even realer than that…
Maybe Kenneth had just had a reason for being so unusually forthcoming today?
As he thought about it, Dwight started to hold himself tightly with both hands, whimpering as he fought to quell the still growing need within. And, a moment after he started doing that, he received an indication that he was indeed in a dream, just one that was doing its best to seem as real as possible so that it could trick him!
Because, the REAL Bryce would never have such a concerned, caring look on his face! The REAL Bryce would never look at him as he squirmed around and wrinkle his brow in such a worried way. The REAL Bryce would absolutely never EVER say something like, “Um… Smith. I… I know I always give you shit for pissing out here all the time, but you understand I’m just teasing, right? I don’t actually care if you do that, it’s not a big deal. You can go if you need to.”
This was a dream, Dwight was sure of it. There was no other explanation. Kenneth was not flirty and open. Bryce was not kind and compassionate. And, therefor, Dwight was NOT awake.
“I’m fine,” Dwight told Bryce. “I can wait.”
Bryce gave him an odd look. “Smith, seriously, I don’t care if you pee in the grass.” Bryce had always thought Dwight was an odd fellow— He was glued to Kenneth of ALL people 24/7 and ate cupcakes with black olives on them, for God’s sake— but THIS was something he couldn’t grasp at all. He knew Dwight HATED holding his bladder for any real length of time, he always bitched and moaned and whined up a storm whenever he was made to wait, he could think of no reason that Dwight would CHOOSE to restrain himself when he didn’t have to.
He also knew Dwight was the furthest thing from being pee shy. Dwight didn’t care one bit if someone was nearby while he urinated. Dwight was even fine with carrying on a conversation while he went. He didn’t even really mind it if someone stared and watched— Which had happened a few times since he’d chosen to relieve himself in very inappropriate places on more than one occasion.
About the only time Dwight WILLINGLY held his bladder was out of solidarity with Kenneth. If they were both bursting and Kenneth was in a place that he couldn’t empty his bladder, then Dwight would make himself wait alongside him— He thought it would just be cruel to go when his friend had to keep suffering.
Was something like that happening now? Had Kenneth not been able to go this morning for some reason? “Is… Is Paulson okay?” Bryce asked.
And THAT was just more proof that Dwight was dreaming! Bryce was being nice to him AND to Kenneth when he had no reason to be? That wasn’t possible within the realm of reality. “H—He’s fine,” Dwight said.
“He’s not…” Bryce struggled to come up with the right way to phrase his question. “Was… Was he able to ‘go’ this morning?”
Of course Bryce was asking about that! Dwight was stuck in a dream that was trying as hard as it could to make him pee his bed, after all! Of course it would make the people he encountered talk to him about urinating! Of course it would! “Y—Yes,” Dwight said. “He went after he got up, just like always.”
So, that WASN’T the problem, then? Bryce couldn’t think of anything else it COULD be! Was Dwight just randomly feeling a little shy himself all of the sudden? That… Didn’t make very much sense considering how, as far as Bryce knew, Dwight’s bladder had never had even the tiniest bout of stage fright before… “Um… If you want me to turn around, I can do that for you,” Bryce said. It felt very strange to be making such an offer to Dwight, someone whom had whipped it out and begun voiding his bladder right in front of him with almost zero warning so many times before.
Dwight shook his head. Wow, this dream was really pulling out all the stops! “That’s okay, Bryce. You don’t have to. I can hold it.”
Bryce kept staring at him. Dwight’s legs were wrapped around each other in such a horrendously tight knot, it actually kind of shocked Bryce that human limbs could bend that way at all! One of Dwight’s hands was gripping his dick so firmly that it made Bryce wince, and his other hand was frantically pulling on his belt, all while he jiggled up and down. ‘Holding it’ did not appear to be something Dwight was capable of at the moment. “Dwight, I would really prefer it if you didn’t urinate in your uniform today. What the Hell are you doing?”
Well… Now he sounded a little more like the real Bryce… Probably just the dream trying to ease him back into a false sense of security!
“Nothing,” Dwight insisted. “I just… Don’t have to go that bad right now. I can hold it.”
Bryce’s eyes narrowed to slits as he gazed at all the twisting and shaking Dwight was doing. “Really.”
“Y—Yes,” Dwight said. He could hold it, because he HAD to hold it, because he did NOT want to pee his bed again! He just… SO wished that he could wake the Hell up! His bladder felt like it was being scrunched up in a gorilla’s fist! The pressure was so immense that he could barely keep himself upright. He kept feeling on the verge of collapsing to his knees, unleashing his typhoon as he fell! “Ohhh…” he moaned softly. “Gotta goooo…”
“Then go!” Bryce said. “Jeez, what’s the matter with you?!” He ran a hand through his curly hair, agitated. At least, when Kenneth was squirming with obvious need and refused to just take a freaking piss, Bryce could be reasonably certain of what was going through the guy’s head, but this… Dwight wasn’t feeling shy, he wasn’t making himself hold it for Kenneth’s sake, he… Bryce’s eyes widened once more and his face flushed.
‘Maybe he is… Erm… Hurt "down there"? Urinating is causing him pain, so he is trying not to do it? Is that it?’ Bryce wondered. “Dwight… Uh…” He never liked asking after his subordinates health, especially not when it involved THOSE parts… “Is the problem… Does it hurt you to go right now? Is that why you don’t want to?”
Dwight shook his head. It didn’t hurt him to pee at all! It felt really good to pee! It WOULD feel really, REALLY good to pee right now, and he just wished that he could do it! As if to confirm with him that urinating was absolutely not painful, his bladder suffered a wicked, awful spasm and the first spurt of his ocean trickled warmly between his legs. “Ah—!” he gasped, doubling over even more, clutching and squeezing with all his might.
Bryce sighed. “I— I know it’s SUPER embarrassing to have a problem… ‘there’, but if you need medical attention—“
“That’s— No, I’m fine!” Dwight repeated, each insistence sounded more ridiculous than the last as his body shook and shivered with more and more involuntary contortions.
Bryce wanted to run to the nearest tree and begin bashing his head against it. “Okay!” he snapped. “Is… Is this some kind of ridiculous bet you’ve made with Kenneth, then? You want to see if you can hold it as long as he can?”
Dwight, again, shook his head. He would never do something so stupid, that was something Bryce would do! Dwight only ever held it when he HAD to hold it! Like now, when he knew that letting it out would grant him a sopping wet bed!
“Well… It is time for your mid-day break, anyway,” Bryce said finally. “You may go ANYWHERE you want now. And, I HOPE you choose to visit a restroom during that time.”
Dwight nodded, his brain unwillingly filling itself with a list of all the places he could go to take a leak right now. He could go back to the barrack if he wanted a lot of peace and quiet while he went… He could use one of the restrooms scattered throughout the area, one of them surely had an available toilet or urinal for him to use… He could go on one of the trees, or behind a bush… He could just go RIGHT where he was standing too, even!
But, he knew the reality was that he couldn’t go in ANY of those places. Not until after he’d woken up!
He… WAS asleep, wasn’t he? Bryce had stopped with all his uncharacteristic niceness after a while as he’d grown more irritated. And, in dreams, time usually moved a LOT faster, but his break didn’t feel like it had come any earlier than it was supposed to. Except… Time ALWAYS felt like it moved really slow when he had to use the restroom urgently.
It was very, very hard for him to walk now. Every step made a scorching sting ripple through his urethra, like it was being lit ablaze by the pressure knocking against it. As he walked, his hands stayed glued against his cock. Some of the guards he passed were staring at his obvious show of desperation, but he didn’t care. This was just a dream, and so he wasn’t embarrassing himself for real.
One guard he didn’t recognize even approached him. “Um… Hello,” he said awkwardly. “Were you just transferred here? Did no one tell you where the restrooms are?”
Dwight shook his head. “I… Um… I know, I was just heading there,” he lied. If he saw a toilet right now, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from using it, and then it would be all over.
“Okay…” the other guard said as Dwight kept walking.
Dwight had to find Kenneth, he decided. Kenneth would make him wake up somehow! Kenneth’s break time came around now too, he thought. And, when Kenneth got a break, the very first thing he always did was rush back to the barrack and relieve his bladder. Dwight turned and headed in that direction, hoping that his dream wouldn’t subject him to a vision of Kenneth urinating when he got there. If he had to see Kenneth go, had to hear him moaning as it poured out of him even just in a dream, he’d explode.
Dwight trudged and trudged along, seconds stretching into minutes, minutes into hours, and then when he neared the barrack, he saw his friend. He picked up the pace and hurried over to him. Kenneth removed the hand he’d been chewing on from his mouth, indicating to Dwight that he really DID have to get back to their room soon!
Dwight felt bad for keeping Kenneth from the toilet, even if THIS Kenneth was just a product of his imagination.
Kenneth was staring at Dwight now, eyes locked onto his friend’s blatant, intense pee-dance. “D—Did they make a new rule that you’re not allowed to go at your post anymore?” he guessed.
“No,” Dwight said. “Kenneth, I need you to wake me up!”
Kenneth shifted his weight around. His morning pee felt like it had been way, WAY too long ago right now, and he did NOT have the time to try and make sense of whatever the heck Dwight had just said. “Um… I really have to—“
“I know,” Dwight interrupted. “I do too! I’ve got to pee SO badly right now, Kenneth! I can’t hold it!”
Kenneth hunched his shoulders and returned his pinky to his mouth, chewing away on it as his face became engulfed in flames. “M—Must you be so loud?” he asked. Several of their fellow guards were also on their breaks right now, many of them walking nearby and hearing Dwight whine about his exploding bladder, inadvertently drawing attention to BOTH of their needs. “W—We can go back to our room, okay? Yes. Going back to our room would be good right now…” in agreement, his bladder sent him a particularly hot, sharp twinge and he jumped on his heels. He lowered his voice even more, “We can go together, alright? Dwight, please? You know I’ve been… Waiting a long while, I—“
“I can’t go!” Dwight complained loudly.
“Wha— Why not?” Kenneth asked, suddenly concerned. “You are not having my… proble—“
“No,” Dwight said. “I can’t go, because I know this is a dream! If I pee, I’ll wet the bed!”
Kenneth plucked the hand from his mouth and fluttered it uselessly around his waist as he rocked from side to side. He wanted to grab himself really, really bad, and he needed the toilet NOW, and Dwight wasn’t making any sense! “Dwight, maybe don’t talk so loud about bed wetting? There are people…”
“They’re not real, though. This is a dream.”
“Oh my God—“ Kenneth groaned, his hand quickly pressing itself between his legs for a brief second before he forced it away again. “Dwight, look. I am… Exploding right now, okay? Whatever you are talking about, can it please wait?”
“N—No,” Dwight said. It couldn’t wait! NOTHING could wait anymore! If Dwight didn’t wake the Hell up and PEE soon, he thought he’d die! His heart was slamming around inside his ribcage, filled with so much panic that he could NOT understand why that alone hadn’t woken him! “Kenneth, please?” he begged. “Please, wake me up? Please? I need to pee, I need to pee so much!”
“So do I!” Kenneth hissed sharply. “You are not asleep, you idiot! You are awake! If this was a dream, I wouldn’t really BE here and that would mean I wouldn’t be able to FEEL the freaking LAKE inside of me right now!”
“I— I know I’m asleep,” Dwight said. “This has to be a dream.”
“WHY do you think you are dreaming?”
“B—Because of this morning!” Dwight said. “When you had your shirt all undone and started to kis—“
“OH MY GOD!” Kenneth’s voice finally raised itself above a whisper as, in a total panic, he pressed a hand over Dwight’s mouth. “Shhhh!” The sheer fear in Kenneth’s chest managed to overpower even the pressure inside his bladder. His voice fell several octaves, until he was speaking so quietly that Dwight could barely hear. “Are you a moron? Someone could hear you!”
Shakily, he released his hand from Dwight’s mouth, grabbed one of his arms in a vice grip, and tugged him inside the barrack. Once in their room, Kenneth lost it. Everything was forgotten now, Dwight’s apparent belief that he was stuck in a dream, Dwight’s bladder emergency, Hell, even his OWN need for the toilet. All of it was gone, replaced by nerves. “What were you THINKING?” he demanded. “Talking about THAT where ANYONE could hear you!?”
“But—“
“Dwight, we can NOT let anyone find out,” Kenneth said.
“I know, but—“
“So, why in the HELL would you mention THIS morning while we are OUTSIDE?”
“I…” Dwight sunk his teeth into his lip. He felt warmth collecting against his palms. He’d been steadily leaking small drops of urine ever since Kenneth had slapped his hand over his mouth. He couldn’t make them stop coming out. His bladder was full. Completely. No room left inside it at all.
And he was starting to think he wasn’t actually dreaming.
And, instead of feeling relieved, he felt terrible. He’d very nearly done something that he wouldn’t be able to fix, something that he wouldn’t be able to take back. “I just… I thought this was a dream. B—Because, when you did all that, when you showed so much skin for me and kissed me like that… I thought… I thought that was just too good to be true.”
Some of Kenneth’s anger dissipated. “Dwight… Uh… Do you… Dream about me doing those things often?”
Dwight nodded. “All of the time. Those are my favorite dreams. And, you DON’T act all open and amorous like that in real life. Ever. So…”
“… Oh,” Kenneth said. “So, because of that, you thought you shouldn’t… Have you gone at all today?”
Dwight shook his head. “I didn’t go this morning, and I didn’t go at my post, and so now I have to go really, really bad!”
“Well, you can go now,” Kenneth said. “Please? I really need need it too, remember?”
“O—Okay,” Dwight said, finally unclasping the belt that had been driving him crazy all day. “You want to go together?”
“I think we have to,” Kenneth said. “And, it’s fine. It’s just you.”
Kenneth checked that the door to their room was locked, and the two headed into the restroom. Dwight got himself out first, immediately releasing his poor, tortured bladder. His dripping transformed into spraying, and it felt wonderful. The spontaneous drop in pressure he felt take place within his body made him shiver with pleasure as a slow exhale breezed out of his nose.
“Nnnh,” Kenneth whimpered at the hiss of Dwight’s stream, still fighting with his own buttons. Once they were out of the way and his zipper had come down, he joined his friend and let go of his stream. “Ahhhh….” he smiled contentedly as it poured out of him. After taking a few seconds to catch his breath, his eyes slid over to Dwight, “You know, you really are a moron sometimes,” he said.
“I… I know,” Dwight said. He felt like an idiot. After pinching himself so many times and still not waking up, he really ought to have taken the hint… But, even though he felt like an idiot, in this moment he felt like an INCREDIBLY relieved one. All the throbbing that had been pounding at his opening now felt pleasant as buckets of pee were dumped through it.
“But…” Kenneth paused as a shiver ripped up and down his spine. “Ahhh… But, I am so happy that you are MY moron,” he said. “If… If anything had to trick you into thinking you were asleep. I’m glad it was… You know. That.”
For the first time in their lives, in spite of starting his stream second, Kenneth actually finished first. This was a massive surprise to him, and it made his chest clench as he imagined how desperate Dwight must have been feeling if he was able to pee for longer than him for once. “Wow…” he said as he zipped up. “You had to go…”
Dwight was usually the one stunned by the capacity of Kenneth’s bladder and, in a weird way, it made him feel good that Kenneth was impressed by his own today. “I barely made it. I mean, I went a lot in my pants,” he admitted.
“That’s okay, you can change if you have to,” Kenneth said.
Dwight finally finished and zipped up. “Ah! MUCH better!” he said.
Kenneth laughed slightly, “I hope so…” He looked down at his feet. “Erm… We have some more time left in our break… Uh… Can you tell me some other stuff you have dreams about me doing?” |
This one gets pretty dark. Warnings for abuse and self harm.
***
Kenneth had been pounding his fists against the door for the past thirty minutes to no avail. Even as his slamming grew louder and more frantic, his situation remained the same. He’d tried shouting as loud as he could— Which if Bryce was to be believed was, in fact, loud enough to wake the dead— But still… Nothing.
He was in one of the holding cells used for captured enemies. He’d gone in here to get a notebook he had left behind when he’d been cleaning it, and the door had swung shut and locked itself behind him, leaving him trapped… The door was allegedly sound-proofed, and now Kenneth was positive that that was true. He’d been screaming his lungs out, thrashing his hands and feet against it, doing everything he could to create a racket… But no one had heard him.
Additionally, he hadn’t told anyone ahead of time that he was coming here. It was supposed to be such a quick errand, he just didn’t think he NEEDED to let anyone know. No one knew he was here.
Plus, this was supposed to be his day off. That meant Bryce wouldn’t think it was unusual when he didn’t show up at his post.
Dwight would be at HIS post, and would maybe look around for him at break time, but then when he didn’t find him, he’d assume he’d gone into town for his day off. Dwight wouldn’t realize he was actually missing until later on in the evening.
Of course, he knew Dwight would look for him then, but he’d NEVER think to check here first. He’d go around to the medical building first, or ask Bryce… He’d probably even check around in town before he considered coming HERE, if he ever did at all…
Dwight was going to be really worried… He was going to think Kenneth had gone into town and something horrible had happened there… Meanwhile, Kenneth would be trapped in this cell for… For who knew how long.
The cell was so tiny, so dark… He’d been trapped in one of these once before, but that had been much different. Bryce had stuck him in it as a joke, meaning someone was AWARE of where he was. And he’d known Bryce wouldn’t just leave him to rot forever… Plus, Dwight had been WITH him that time…
Now, he was completely alone, in this cramped, confined space, and nobody knew to come let him out…
When that settled in for him, he finally stopped banging his hands and feet into the door, he finally stopped screaming… A coldness erupted in the soles of his feet and rattled all the way up to the top of his head. He’d never felt such an intense chill before.
He slumped against the wall, slid down to the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest. He was shaking, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. This was so… He was scared. And not even the normal kind of fear, either. This wasn’t how he felt when he saw a centipede, or got startled by a sudden sound. This wasn’t even how he felt when Elizabeth had seen him and Dwight kissing.
This was… This was real terror, and it knocked the breath right out of him.
Memories swirled, memories of the box.
Father had a small, locking box, and when Kenneth had been little enough to be tucked inside it, he’d be locked up into it for days on end. Father would sometimes pick the box up and throw it around with him still inside, so frightened as he could only FEEL what was being done to him, couldn’t see a thing.
It would be so tight inside the box. Kenneth wouldn’t be able to turn his body around at all, any attempts would result in scrapes and bruises as the material dug into him. Father would sometimes open it up in order to use Kenneth’s skin as an ash-tray. Sometimes, Father would give him water. Sometimes not.
He was never let out of it to pee.
Father would go ballistic every time he wet himself in the box.
Now, Kenneth’s shaking increased as he realized that this was actually even WORSE than the box had been… At least with the box, FATHER had known where he was and would take him out of it eventually once he got bored of it…
Tears streamed down his face, he couldn’t believe he was now in a situation that felt even more hopeless than life with his Father had. “I… I want out…” he mumbled softly to himself through his tears. He couldn’t believe how pathetic his voice sounded, he couldn’t believe it was possible to feel this scared.
Once he’d gotten too tall to fit in the box, Father took to locking him into the closet instead. That closet had also been Kenneth’s ‘bedroom’, and he kept the door to it open whenever he slept in there. It was too dark and small with the door shut. Kenneth never felt like he could breathe inside it…
But, sometimes, Father made him shut the door, and then Father put a lock on it so he couldn’t come out. Kenneth would scratch at the door and cry. He’d be so scared… And eventually he’d be very, very thirsty, too. Father would make him stay in the closet for a very long time, and there would be no water.
Now, Kenneth decided that that was at least one way this was better. The holding cell had a sink, and it worked. He had water. He also had a bed, kind of. The mattress was threadbare, and there was no pillow or sheet, but it was there. And there was a toilet, too. He could survive in here for at least a little while…
He sucked in a puff of air. His screaming had made him so thirsty. He wanted water… He HAD water. This wasn’t like with Father.
But, this wasn’t like with ANYONE.
No one knew where he was.
No one would set him free any time soon.
Shakily, he rose to his feet and stumbled towards the sink. He cranked it on and cupped his hands beneath the faucet, taking several long, slow sips. At least there was water… He’d be okay for a bit. He was okay. He was okay…
He didn’t feel okay at all.
He wanted Dwight. He wanted Dwight to hold him, to tell him that closed-in, confined spaces weren’t that scary, and that he was safe because HE was there with him… He’d never wanted to feel Dwight’s hand in his own so badly before.
He even wanted Bryce. He wanted Bryce to yank open the door and start giving him shit for being so stupid. He wanted Bryce to yell at him that he was a moron for coming in here for a dumb notebook and not even telling someone first. He wanted Bryce to shout how idiotic it was to not do anything to keep the door propped open like he’d been WARNED to do the day he’d cleaned in here…
Kenneth shut the sink back off and collapsed onto the bed. He stared up at the ceiling and tried to focus on breathing. He tried to steady the rise and fall of his chest, but it kept hitching and shuddering instead. He was still crying, silent tears flowing down his face. He needed Dwight to hug him. He needed Bryce to snap at him… He needed to be anywhere other than where he was…
He needed more water. His throat hurt so much, his panicked gasping and screaming had frayed it. He returned to the sink. He drank so much that he could hear it sloshing when he curled back up on the bed.
He got lost in his thoughts for a while. Not good thoughts, either. Thoughts of Father, and of the box, and of the closet… Thoughts of how no one was going to come let him out of here, ever. Thoughts of how he’d die here. Thoughts of how Dwight wouldn’t even know what had become of him and would be so sad for the rest of his life…
Thoughts of how, ultimately, this was all his own fault. He’d been stupid to not tell anyone where he was going. This was his fault. Completely.
After a couple hours, the water he’d had began to voice its desire to come back out. That was, he supposed, one other way this was better than the box or the closet. There was a toilet. He could pee.
A few minutes later, his throat choked around a pained sob as he realized that no, that was NOT the case. He couldn’t pee here… Icy terror was gripping all of his veins, all of his muscles. And he couldn’t pee. He just kept standing at the toilet, trembling and crying as he tried to force out a stream that refused to come.
Finally, he gave up. Went back to the bed, laid down on his front and whimpered hard into the mattress. His body shook and shuddered, heaving with the force of his crying.
Solitary confinement.
Solitary.
Fucking.
Confinement.
As in; Totally alone. No one near him. Not one soul.
And he still couldn’t go.
Utterly fucking pathetic.
He knew, of course, that his ability to empty his bladder was locked to his emotional state at any given time, and that his current emotional state was one of extreme fear the likes of which he’d never experienced before. One of the biggest constants in Kenneth’s life was the awareness that he couldn’t urinate when he was anxious, and he’d discovered already that the exact cause of his anxiety was unimportant. Usually, it was being around other people, but sometimes it could be something else entirely.
He flashed back to the day Dwight had been laid up in the medical building, hurt. He recalled how he’d endured close to a full day without a pee, feeling nothing but terror and shame. He choked and swallowed loudly as new arms of icy fear wrapped themselves around his body. He was feeling the exact same things now, to an even more fevered level.
His bladder could be the thing that ended his life in here.
His bladder could rupture and actually kill him before any form of deprivation did it first.
At that thought, he swore he actually felt his urinary sphincters twisting themselves shut, he physically felt them closing and locking up, unwilling to let even one drop seep through his opening. A spasm rocked through his bladder a moment later; A wicked, fiery one that made him grunt and grimace with discomfort.
He had to go…
He needed to… He needed to stop thinking so negatively. If he continued down this line of thought, the line that insisted his ability to pee was going to shut off for good until he was freed and felt safe again, then that really WOULD happen. He actually would end up holding it for an agonizing length of time again, he would risk another infection, he would be in danger of causing even worse damage to his body than that.
Kenneth needed to think more positively than that… But, Kenneth struggled with having optimistic thoughts even in the best circumstances. He needed Dwight to help him see the bright side of things, or to make him feel hopeful that everything would turn out okay in the end…
And Dwight wasn’t here now.
Nobody was.
And nobody was going to be.
SOMEBODY would have to open that door eventually! Yeah. The only reason Kenneth had come in here was because he’d forgotten something while cleaning— That was done once every week, the cells were mopped and checked for bugs. Someone would come to do that again, and they’d find him.
But, Kenneth had JUST cleaned here yesterday. There were several days to go before the cell was due to be mopped again. If Kenneth couldn’t make himself feel calm enough to pee in here… His body couldn’t TAKE multiple days without relief. That was physically impossible, something would have to give… He’d either break down and soak himself as he’d done the day Dwight was injured— likely making himself sick in the process— Or he’d get so full that something inside of him snapped apart, requiring major medical treatment that he’d be unable to get in this place.
‘Stop thinking of this as life-and-death,’ Kenneth begged himself as he resumed staring at the ceiling. His legs were flailing uncomfortably as his pee refused to stop simmering. ‘You need to relieve yourself, that’s all.’
Kenneth knew he’d also have to continue drinking during the time he remained here, no matter how painful his bladder got. He couldn’t go for DAYS without water. He already knew much too well what happened then. He already knew that THAT was the only feeling which was worse than an agonizingly full bladder that refused to split open and drain.
‘Someone will let you out eventually,’ Kenneth told himself. He allowed his eyes to slowly drift shut and tried to block out his surroundings. He wasn’t trapped in a constricting, narrow room with very little light. He wasn’t. He was outside, he was at the beach. Where everything was wide open and bright. Where sand and ocean stretched out for miles and he could move and breathe. There was no reason to be frightened. He was safe. He was free.
And Dwight was with him, holding his hand. They were alone, so it didn’t matter if they were touching each other like that. He imagined Dwight drawing him closer, kissing him gently and telling him “I was so worried when I couldn’t find you. Always remember to tell me where you’re going, okay?”
Kenneth concentrated on the fantasy so hard that it felt real. The coldness surrounding him was replaced by Dwight’s warmth. The whole beach was warm, the sun was so bright… The ocean was so loud. “I won’t forget ever again, Dwight. I promise.”
Waves lapped against the imaginary shore, and their noise soon became more real to Kenneth than any other aspect of his daydream. He pictured himself gripping onto Dwight’s hand more tightly and whispering to him that he needed to relieve himself. He pictured Dwight nodding slightly and telling him that that wasn’t a problem, because they were the only two people here. Kenneth could just go in the sand, no one would see, and Dwight would be right there to make sure of that. Kenneth pictured himself aiming at the sand between his feet and easily letting it all go, finally feeling so much better…
But, that part of the fantasy didn’t feel real at all. The relief was unable to go beyond the confines of his imagination, just like Kenneth was unable to go beyond the confines of this prison. His eyes snapped back open when the release he was daydreaming about turned into pangs of urgent need that forced him to wrap a hand around his cock and pinch his opening closed.
The second he’d grabbed hold of himself, he questioned why he’d done it; Why he’d bothered. He knew how unlikely he was to wet himself feeling the way he did, and he knew he ought to feel GRATEFUL for any spurts that managed to seep into his boxers rather than remaining locked away. Habits were tough to break though, it was just instinct for him to squeeze his crotch when he felt his bladder spasm that hard.
His breathing had settled some, the daydream had soothed him at least slightly. Maybe this was a good time to try again… He crawled out of bed and walked over to the toilet. His bladder lurched at the sight of it, bearing down on itself and pumping liquid right up against his opening. In spite of feeling like he had to TIGHTEN his grip now, he released his cock from his hand. He was so utterly terrified of hurting himself again that he didn’t CARE if some of his urine spilled out into his pants, so long as it didn’t stay inside of him anymore.
But, even with all the roaring, aching feelings coursing down the length of his cock, no warmth trickled into his boxers.
He tried not to let that alarm him. It did, after all, go against his body’s natural instincts to pee when all his clothing was still up. This could still work… Trying not to keep himself calm, trying not to shake or let fear surge through him again, he carefully unbuttoned his uniform and pulled down his zipper. ‘Please…’ he begged inside his head. ‘Please, if I have to be in here, please just let me have this one thing…’ He aimed, shut his eyes once more. ‘You’re not… You’re not here. You’re somewhere safe. You’re in a place that you can walk out of whenever you want to. You just don’t want to yet because the toilet is here and you REALLY need to go. That’s all.’
He DID really need to go. There wasn’t a clock in here, and he hadn’t worn a watch today, but it felt like it was about the time he usually had his break. He was always achingly full when his break came. His bladder had grown accustomed to his typical schedule, it EXPECTED to be emptied at this time each day. Maybe that would help it drain here, too. Like, some sort of muscle memory…
His bladder was SCORCHING inside him, his eyes were squeezed so tight, his urethra burned… He felt like his pee was literally just at the very edge of his bladder’s opening, like it didn’t even have more than another little millimeter to move before it would be out and flowing down into the toilet. It hurt so badly to have it stuck there, so close to breaking free. ‘Please… Just a little further, please?’ he thought desperately. ‘It’s hurting…’
It refused to budge, that last taut ring of muscle refused to ease. Not one drop managed to squirt out of him. His eyes dragged themselves open again and filled with tears. This was so pathetic. In every way. He was such a moron, and all of this was his fault.
Having to see his surroundings again did not help Kenneth at all. His heartbeat ramped up speed and slammed hard in his chest. This was such an awful, awful room. He thought now that maybe being put here was too harsh for their enemies. He understood needing to lock them up, but couldn’t there at least be a window? Just a tiny one, too small for anyone to possibly escape out of? Completely closed off, so little light… He’d never questioned it before, but now that he’d been in here for so long, it seemed too cruel. The cells should have been built with windows, the beds in them should at least have sheets… The doors shouldn’t have been sound-proofed, because what if something went wrong? What if there was an emergency and the person stuck inside couldn’t get help?
If… If Father heard him say something like that, he’d slap him so hard… “You soft, weak little faggot,” he’d say. “They are your enemies. Never show compassion.”
Kenneth shuddered where he stood, feeling further from peeing than he ever had before. Yes, these cells were meant for their enemies, and he was not supposed to feel sympathy for them. The last time one had been captured trespassing, he pretended that the man was actually his Father— His superiors had wanted him to interrogate the trespasser. Kenneth had even been ENCOURAGED by them to pretend the man was actually his Father, and to do to the man what he’d do to his Father. It hadn’t been easy at first, because the man did not look like Father, or sound like Father, or act like Father… And Kenneth’s superiors had gotten irritated with him.
But, then he’d heard something, he’d heard one of his superiors rummaging around, and then there was ice rattling inside a glass, and then Kenneth had that strange thing happen again; The thing where he’d have a nightmare, but without falling asleep first.
And suddenly it was very easy to pretend that the captured man was really his Father.
He’d regretted that day ever since. For a few minutes, he’d allowed himself to become something that he’d never wanted to be. All the time he acted, it was like he was standing in a place outside his own body and watching everything take place. There as a brutal pushing and pulling taking place within his mind as one side of himself begged him to stop and the other screamed that he NEEDED to do this.
He did stop eventually. Once Dwight walked in, the haze faded, the nightmares cleared from his vision and he could only see himself, his friend, and what he’d done to the captured man.
And he’d felt sick.
He’d gotten sick too, the second he was out of the room, he was heaving. Dwight tried to hold him, but Kenneth pushed him away. He didn’t think he deserved to be touched so gently anymore. Not after what he’d done.
A few days later, Dwight brought him back to the captured man, Kenneth wanted to apologize to him, to bring him food, to explain that he had no idea what had come over him but that he didn’t want that side of him to come out ever again.
But, the man had been terrified of him, unable to look at him without shaking.
The whole thing had taken place in a room nearly identical to the one Kenneth was trapped inside of now. Perhaps, being stuck here was a form of karma for letting his demon take full control for so long.
At least, if he was in here, everyone else would be safe from his demon.
Everyone but him, anyway.
Because, several more minutes passed and his bladder remained stubborn and full. His Father’s voice continued to fade in and out of his consciousness reminding him of how pathetic he was. Flashes of the awful things he’d done in a room so similar to this one popped through his vision.
What made him finally snap was not the increased flares of pressure bubbling inside his bladder. Not the knives and syringes that poked sharply against his bloated organ. Not the maddening feeling of desperation that just refused to ease no matter how hard he tried to force it to. Not the ache in the base of his cock that hurt so much he thought it was about to burst and detach itself from his body.
What made him finally snap was not one more thought of how humorous Father would find his current situation. Not one more imagined comment from him of “Holy shit, you’re such a pathetic little brat! Can’t even piss when you’re in god damned solitary, can you!?” or “Jesus Christ, I thought by your age you’d finally figure out how to use the fucking toilet!” Not one more memory of one of the countless times Father had stood behind him and shouted about how ridiculous it was that he couldn’t accomplish something as simple as urination.
No, what made him finally snap was when he thought back to what he’d done to the trespasser and realized that, had Father seen it happen, he would have been proud of his son for the first time in his life.
When he realized that, Kenneth lost all control of himself, save for one very important part. His bladder remained full, round and hard as a rock inside him, but everything else erupted with explosion after explosion. He stumbled away from the toilet, collapsed on the bed, and began to strike himself again and again. He slapped his face, he bashed his chest, he scraped his nails viciously into his arms until he felt cool blood trickling down them, gouging open his flesh even through the material of his uniform sleeves.
“You sick, psychotic bastard!” Kenneth screamed as loud as he could, even louder than he’d been shouting for freedom hours ago as he’d thrashed madly at the door. “What the Hell is wrong with you!? You’re him! You’re worse than him! You’re a crazy, insane piece of shit, and you deserve nothing but pain! You deserve to hurt, you deserve to freaking die! You are a blight on the world!”
He grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked. As he continued to shout, he tasted salt in his mouth and knew he was sobbing. “Go ahead and cry, you little shit! Your tears don’t matter! No one cares! You don’t deserve for anyone to care! You are sick! You are disgusting! You need to be punished! I hope you die in here and nobody ever finds your freaking body! You need— You deserve—“ He flipped over onto his front, and now all his weight was on top of his bladder.
The pained organ screamed at all the new added pressure, going into a frenzy. It thrashed and flailed as much as Kenneth himself was. Kenneth turned back over and the pressure eased, but he didn’t think he deserved for it to ease. He deserved for it to get worse. He deserved for everything to get worse. So, he laid himself on his back, and he smashed both of his hands overtop of his midsection as hard as he could stand— And then a little harder than that.
The distended curve in his lower belly cramped beneath the weight of his palms, he felt like forty cannonballs were being fired into his bladder, then a wave of hundred pound anvils. He felt like his insides were being twisted, knotted in such a way that they’d never be able to get un-tangled again. He was sobbing so loud it echoed in the tiny room, his choked cries only being interrupted by more screams about how much he DESERVED to feel this way.
He deserved it. He deserved it. He deserved it. He deserved to feel like he was having barbed wire shoved deep inside his urethra. He deserved it. He deserved to have his back igniting with torturous misery. He deserved it. He deserved the way his bladder felt like it was being ripped and torn and shreds. And, if it actually ruptured, if this was the day it got bad enough to hospitalize him, he would deserve that to— But he WOULDN’T deserve to have someone actually FIND him and get him medical care in time.
And, of course, even with all the punching and squeezing and slapping against his bladder, nothing was trickling out into his clothes. No pee was exiting him. It was all staying locked inside, all causing him excruciating throes of anguish, like he DESERVED for it to. Beneath his hands, his skin felt taut, like his bladder was about to sear right through it and break him apart. He deserved to have it break him. He deserved it. He deserved it. He was already broken. He was always going to be broken and nothing would ever fix him, because he did not deserve to be fixed. He was scum.
“That’s right,” he could remember Father saying. “You are scum. Scum’s all you’re ever gonna be, too. Look at yourself. You ruined my life, you know that? You think you’re the victim in all this? Because you aren’t. You destroyed my life, I had no choice in that. Your bitch Mother made that decision for me. You’re lucky I haven’t killed you yet. Don’t test me. Repeat after me; ‘I am scum.’”
“I am scum…” Kenneth whimpered into the dark room, still thrusting his hands into the swell of his abdomen.
“Not good enough, you little shit. Louder.”
“I am scum,” Kenneth repeated in a pained shout. It was like his hands were squishing and shoving his urine up into his throat…
“LOUDER.”
“I AM SCUM!!” Kenneth screamed, ramming his hands down until he finally felt the firm bulge in his middle compress, and the pain in his back reached a level he’d never before experienced; It was crushing, brutal, so awful he thought he was finally actually about to explode.
“And that’s ALL you’ll ever be…”
Kenneth’s eyes finally opened again, shakily he withdrew his hands, let them tuck against his crotch instead as he flopped over onto his side and tried to soothe himself. He couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop trembling. He wanted Dwight, NEEDED Dwight… He…
A sudden noise shocked him back to reality.
His flailing leg had knocked his notebook off the bed and to the floor. That stupid fucking notebook, the only reason he was in here to start with. He didn’t want to get out of bed and KNEEL down to pick it back up, he thought he’d punished himself enough for now. He was just barely able to reach one hand down and grab the notebook off the ground.
Using the hand not wedged between his legs, he opened the cover, desperate for something else to fill his brain with. All he could think about was how much he wanted to pee, how he was completely alone. How he deserved both of those things because of how awful he was. The notebook was mostly reminders he’d written to himself, and stupid things he’d drawn. One full page of crude doodles of the beach and of Dwight…
Towards the back, the words he saw were suddenly in a different handwriting. Rather than Kenneth’s chicken-scratch, it was Dwight’s neat script; Something Kenneth could recognize anywhere.
Kenneth,
I know you’re probably feeling very bad about what happened today with the trespasser. I know you probably think you are turning into your father now. But, you aren’t. Your father would never feel the way you are right now. He’d be proud of himself if he did something like that, but you aren’t proud at all. You know that it wasn’t right.
I don’t understand what happens when you have nightmares while you’re still awake, but from what I heard, it sounds like our superiors TRIED to make that happen to you today so they could get a specific reaction. They were yelling at you, and then they started pouring alcohol so you’d have to hear and smell things that make you think of your father. I think maybe there are certain things that CAUSE you to have the waking nightmares, or whatever you call them, and they figured some of them out.
You did lose it today, you did do something bad— Something that you know is bad, and it’s good that you are aware of that. But, I think this might have been one of those things where lots of people decided to do the wrong things. I think we should find the stuff that makes you have the waking nightmares so you can anticipate them better, and maybe then we can control them and the ways they make you react?
I don’t know. I really don’t understand how come those things happen to you. But, I just don’t think what happened today was completely all your fault. It’s just something we need to work on together and that other people shouldn’t try to take advantage of.
And you should apologize to the man you hurt. Even if he doesn’t forgive you, it’s the right thing to do.
We’ll sort out these things together, Kenneth. I promise. I’ll always be here for you, even when you do something wrong. I love you.
-Dwight
Kenneth could actually remember Dwight saying a few of those things to him the day the incident happened, but he’d been too upset to hear it. That was probably why he’d decided to write it down. Dwight was probably right. When his superiors had poured themselves drinks, the room had filled with an oder that for years had always come right before a beating. When they’d shaken the glasses, Kenneth was suddenly a child again and the captured trespasser appeared much more threatening.
And he remembered his superiors had never actually DRANK any of the alcohol they’d gotten, like the glasses and the fluid inside them had all just been props…
Kenneth felt slightly less like an evil monster. He’d done something horrible that day, but his superiors had as well.
He didn’t realize he’d started crying again until wetness began to rumple the sheet of paper housing Dwight’s message. He rubbed the tears from the corners of his eyes. He didn’t want to get the paper damp, it was the only piece of Dwight he had in here with him.
He laid back down and held the notebook to his chest, trying to pretend that Dwight’s words were actually Dwight himself…
Kenneth’s bladder felt like it had been bruised now. An aching, sharp soreness assailing it on all sides. He wondered if maybe he could have actually bruised it when he’d been beating his hands into it. It felt so strange now.
Kenneth had experienced all kinds of pee desperation in his life, he’d experienced it at levels that most people were lucky enough to never need to endure. He’d felt his bladder throb, pulse, swell and burn… But, now he was feeling something that even HE had never known before.
His abdomen sort of felt the way it did after he just finished a whole bunch of sit-ups. Tender, sore and bothered by the slightest movement. But, underneath that feeling were tons and tons of tiny points— Kind of like dozens of dull knives were poking against the skin of his midsection from the inside. He could still register it as a sensation trying to alert him that he needed to urinate, but it was not how ‘needing to urinate’ usually felt at all.
Even the day Dwight had been hurt, the day when he’d nearly gone a full twenty four hours without a drop of relief, it hadn’t felt like this.
Now that Dwight’s note had cleared away so much of his self-loathing, he worried that smooshing his own bladder in a fit of uncontrollable rage had damaged it. It really, really didn’t feel right.
The pain around the base of his cock and thundering against his pee-hole was different now as well. The urgency wasn’t coming in pulsating waves as before, but in constant electric tingles, akin to the way it felt to walk on a foot that had fallen asleep for several minutes. Staticky little pins and needles mixed with a dull, achy numbness.
He had the back pain now, had had it for a while. Those pressurized ripples setting immense fires beneath his ribs. But, that too was slightly different from normal, because every few seconds he’d feel a heavy sharpness driving its way down his sides.
The entire middle area of his body was a multiplex of pain.
He. Had. To. Fucking. Go.
He had to! He was getting deeply frightened of what would become of him if he didn’t get at least SOME of his pee out.
Dwight’s letter, it had calmed him down, maybe enough that he’d be able to void a little now. He hoped so.
He struggled out of the bed. He was unable to pull himself fully upright, he was practically crawling along on the ground as he dragged himself over to the toilet. He hadn’t bothered to button his uniform or re-zip his pants after his last failed attempt, so he easily slid his cock free right away. “Pleaaaase…” he whimpered pleadingly into the darkness. “It really hurts. Please, just make it stop. Please?”
It didn’t stop.
It only got worse as he stared longingly at the toilet in front of him, dying to blast it full of his piss.
“Please…” Kenneth begged. “Please, stop freaking holding it. You don’t HAVE to hold it anymore. You can just go. You can ALWAYS just go if there’s a toilet… Just, please…”
The longer he tried, the more difficult it got, because against his will his brain supplied him with mocking comments, all snickered out in his Father’s cruel voice. “Holy fuck, look at yourself. You’re a disgrace. Normally, you can’t piss because ‘waaah, people are NEAR me!’ and NOW you can’t piss because you’re too alone!? The fuck do you actually WANT?”
“You’re not here,” Kenneth hissed between his clenched teeth.
“I am,” the imaginary voice replied. “I’m always here. I’m inside of you. I’m a part of you. No matter how hard you try to drive me out.”
“You are NOT,” Kenneth shouted, stomping his feet hard against the floor, both out of frustration and desperation. “You’re just in my head!”
“Exactly,” there was a smile in Father’s voice now. “I’m in your head. Forever. Controlling you. Shaping you. Everything about you is what I chose; You can’t piss because I don’t want you to. You lose control of yourself and give over to your fury because it’s what I want. You will never get rid of me until the day you die, because you are what I made you.”
“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” Kenneth screamed, jumping in place. “I just— I have to go! Leave me the Hell alone!”
“How can I? I’m inside your head. I CAN’T leave you.”
Kenneth was trembling so much he looked like he was vibrating. His face was so red he looked sunburnt. His bladder was so full it felt lethal. And he couldn’t— He couldn’t let his brain keep torturing him like this, couldn’t let himself keep imagining that Father was with him. His imagination was making the monster turn real.
He fumbled his cock back into his pants and returned to the bed. He dropped himself onto it and rolled onto his side, facing the wall. His hands yearned to wrap themselves around his dick, desperate to try and plug his opening closed, but he didn’t allow them to. He couldn’t even fucking piss himself at this point he didn’t think, and if he DID then so the fuck what? At least it would be over, at least it would finally be fucking over!
Instead, his hands reached upwards and grasped onto the sides of his head. He laid there, rocking himself back and forth both in a futile attempt to quell the angry fire in his bladder and out of a need to please, please, PLEASE just calm down…
He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, enduring wave after wave of furious agony assaulting him from top to bottom. His bladder hurt, but the inside of his mind hurt so much worse than that. How long had he been in here? It felt like it had been days, but he knew it couldn’t have been as he wasn’t yet feeling that thirsty again— Thank FUCK for that, the last thing he wanted was more fluid.
Exhaustion began to take hold after a while, his entire body feeling empty, heavy and devoid of all energy. He felt like he was fading away.
He wished he could.
***
“Please, please, please open!” Kenneth whimpered as loudly as he dared. He was nervously twisting the doorknob to the restroom, begging it to open up for him. “Please…” he sniffled. “Can’t hold it…”
He hadn’t gone all day.
The last time he’d gone had been yesterday evening, when after growing fed up with Kenneth’s constant pleas for the toilet, Father had tossed him down the stairs to shut him up. When he landed on the wrong place one too many times, his bladder had broken apart and drenched him and some of the stairs. First, Father had laughed at how pathetic a sight it was. Then, when he realized the mess made on the steps, he rushed down them and began kicking Kenneth around on the floor, screaming at him for being a disgusting piece of shit.
Kenneth hadn’t peed a drop since then,
He really, REALLY had to now. His hands had been between his legs for half an hour— Doing the thing Father had forbidden him from doing, the thing that had made Father threaten to cut his hands OFF a few times.
But, that was okay now because Father was asleep. Kenneth could do some of the things he wasn’t allowed to do now because Father wouldn’t see. Kenneth had thought maybe that meant he’d get to go pee finally, but of course that had been an empty hope; Father had put the lock onto the door again. He wasn’t going to get in.
It hurt…
Upon realizing the door was locked, Kenneth had tried to improvise. ‘Dwight said it’s okay to go pee in a bottle if you really, really have to go,’ he had recalled. And he DEFINITELY really, really had to go, and there were empty bottles all over the place.
But, when he’d gotten one of the bottles and lowered his shorts, he’d been unable to refill it. He’d just knelt on the floor, holding the bottle in place, trembling with equal parts need and fear. He couldn’t go. He kept thinking about what Father would do if his misdeed was found out, and he just couldn’t get things flowing.
He’d also tried to go pee in the flower pot. The flowers in it were all dead anyway because Father never watered them. Dwight had told him lots of times that it was okay to go pee on plants outside, so inside plants should be okay too… But, again, he’d been completely incapable of it. He was too scared. Father would notice the dirt was wet, and he’d know something had happened.
Kenneth needed to use the toilet. He needed to get in there and pee extra quiet— He’d learned he could do that if he made it go onto just the porcelain in the bowl instead of into the water directly. He needed to remember not to flush after he’d finished to avoid making noise— He wouldn’t have to, Father had made him drink tons of water today to make sure his bladder would hurt extra bad as punishment. Kenneth had learned that when he drank lots of water, his pee was all clear. If he did those things, he’d go and Father wouldn’t know about it.
But, he couldn’t get inside the room!
Kenneth knew what was most likely to happen. No way would he last until morning, he’d go on the floor and Father would wake up, see the puddle, and punish him. Then, everything would start over again. He’d be just as desperate to go again soon enough, and he’d still have no way to do it. He’d pee his pants again, be punished again, and start it all over again…
Kenneth didn’t understand why it had to be like this. It wasn’t fair. Dwight and the other boys he lived with were all allowed to go pee when they had to! Dwight even had a pot under his bed to go in if he was having an emergency and the line for the toilet was too long! The nuns wanted Dwight and the other boys to be comfortable, and didn’t punish them for needing to go pee. Why did the rules here have to be so different?
Kenneth had tried to figure out what he’d done that was so bad, why his Father hated him so much when he always tried so hard to be good and follow the rules— He knew he broke them a lot, but he didn’t MEAN to do that. When he fell asleep without permission, when he peed himself, when he snuck sips of water… His body just FORCED him to do those things. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stay awake forever, he couldn’t hold his pee forever, he couldn’t go without water for the entire length of time he’d been grounded from it… His body just wouldn’t work how Father insisted that it needed to.
Why did those things even HAVE to be rules, though? Dwight was allowed to sleep! Dwight was allowed to go pee! Dwight was allowed to have water! And he could have all those things whenever his body said it needed them! Dwight didn’t have to beg, or plead his case, or sneak around to do such basic things. He could just DO them!
When Mother was alive, she had told Father his rules were ridiculous. She would give Kenneth water when he said he was thirsty, even if Father had said ‘no’. She had set a bedtime for Kenneth and didn’t make him stay up when he was too tired. When Kenneth told her he needed the toilet, she brought him to it— And when he’d been REALLY little she’d even thanked him and told him he was being good for telling her before he had an accident. When Father said Kenneth was not allowed to sleep or pee, Mother argued with him, Mother said Kenneth should be allowed to do those things because he NEEDED to.
Kenneth wished she was still here. Somehow, he didn’t think things would be as bad if she were…
Kenneth hated his Father’s stupid rules, they made no sense and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make himself follow them.
Kenneth also hated his BODY’S stupid rules too, though.
Because, he’d come to understand that his body definitely had them, except they were never said aloud the way Father’s rules were.
The rules of Kenneth’s body only pertained to peeing;
His body did not allow him to pee if someone was near him.
His body did not allow him to pee if something was scaring him.
His body did not allow him to pee if there was a chance someone could walk by and either see or hear (such as inside a public restroom or outside on a tree.)
His body did not allow him to pee if he could hear unusual sounds.
His body did not allow him to pee right away in an unfamiliar location, if it was going to allow it at all.
His body did not allow him to pee unless it was an emergency.
There was one rule that was different from all the others;
His body would almost ALWAYS allow him to pee eventually if Dwight was beside him.
That rule confused Kenneth the most, as it seemed to go against a few of the others… But, he didn’t complain about it. It was his favorite of the rules, he liked having something that made all the other, horrible ones, go away.
He wished Dwight was here with him now, to help him go into a bottle or onto the dead flowers… But, he also DIDN’T wish Dwight was here. This place was too awful for Dwight to be in. Dwight didn’t deserve to be here.
Kenneth whimpered quietly in his misery, his insides were all REALLY hurting. They felt like they were all knotting together, pulling tight… He kept his hands between his legs, but they didn’t seem to be helping much anymore. The pain was too great for his hands to soothe anymore.
He hated having to live this way. He hated his Father. He hated all the rules. He hated his bladder. He hated himself.
Because, there must have been something wrong with him, right? Maybe God had seen that something about him was terrible, and that was why he was forced to live such an awful life. He was being punished for some reason, even if he didn’t know what it was. “I hate myself…” he sniffled out. “I am scum…” Father had forced him to repeat that phrase so many times, he knew it was probably true. “I am scum, I am scum…”
He WAS scum. He was disgusting and revolting. He was disgusting and revolting because he knew that, any second now, he was going to begin drenching himself in his own urine once again. He could feel it coming. He’d had so many accidents that he knew right away what his body felt like in the moments leading up to one.
It was over.
He was going to be punished again come morning.
Crying more, he leaned against the door to the room he needed so badly, and—
Stumbled a little.
The door had popped open a crack.
It had popped OPEN.
The lock hadn’t been engaged all the way, and jostling it had gotten it to come out completely!
Kenneth could…
He could go pee…
Without a second thought, he hurried into the restroom. He gently closed the door behind himself, tugging his shorts down as he scrambled for the toilet. Almost over… He knew it would likely take a bit for the pee to come out, but at least now he’d be in the right spot when that finally happened.
His expectations were shattered when, the very second he was positioned in front of the toilet, he was going! It all came out right away! He hadn’t needed to concentrate or anything! Just, his body recognized where he was, and that was enough! He was peeing!
He felt so good, so happy that he’d managed to do this so easily, that he forgot to aim away from the water. It was all gushing directly into it, making a loud splashing noise. But, he didn’t care. Father couldn’t take this away from him now! It was too late for that man to do anything about it, he just had to lay in his bed and sleep as Kenneth did this forbidden thing; Relieving himself properly into a toilet with neither permission nor supervision.
And, his body was cooperating, too! He hadn’t even needed to TELL himself to pee, he just did it! Just like Dwight could! Just like everyone else could! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to just… GO like this, and it felt good, it felt so good. So good, so—
“Mmmmff….” Kenneth’s eyes blinked open, ripping him out of the relief he’d experienced inside his Father’s restroom that night and placing him back into the desperation he was feeling now inside the cell.
But, once more, his desperation was feeling different, sort of. All the pain from before was still exactly the same, except for around one place… Before he could almost kind of feel his opening screwing itself closed, as though the plug he always pictured there was not imaginary but a real, tangible thing. But, he didn’t have the sensation of being stopped up right now, in fact he felt light drips of liquid beading against his tip, and very little resistance AGAINST those drops.
One slipped out into his boxers, and then another, and—
“Oh, God— Hurry—!” Kenneth choked out in a gasp, flinging himself out of the bed. His buttons and zip were still undone— Thank God!— but he REALLY couldn’t stand up. Any attempts to do so resulted in more little drips, and the sensation that he was being yanked hard in two opposite directions. He literally crawled his way the short distance to the toilet, and needed to grab onto the seat as he pulled himself up… He couldn’t stand, it hurt too fucking bad to stand. He tugged at his pants, shimmied them down his legs. He hated doing this sitting down, it was always so much harder, but his body was physically incapable of standing right now.
His thighs were trembling as he finally started to lower himself onto the seat, hoping that this really would work and that it wouldn’t take TOO long before he started to—
HSSSSS!!!
Kenneth was pissing violently before he’d even managed to sit down all the way. Once he’d fully collapsed onto the seat and the sudden drop in pressure hit him as the sound of his thunderous release poured into his ears… He actually didn’t understand what was happening at first. ‘Am I really—‘
He even needed to look down, part his legs a bit to confirm it, but sure enough he saw a powerful jet of pee spraying from his tip and into the water below him. This was happening, he’d let his bladder go simply and automatically— And while sitting down, extra vulnerable and exposed, too!
Once his disbelief cleared and he accepted that yes, he WAS in fact peeing, he groaned out a massive sigh. “Ahhhhhh….” His entire body went limp and he leaned back hard against the tank of the toilet, incapable of putting in the energy it took to just sit up straight. The pins and needles that had been stabbing sharply all throughout his lower half faded to be replaced with a tingly little hum that felt like being massaged.
His pee was spraying so noisily that he wondered if it was actually loud enough to penetrate through the material of the sound-proof door. He swore, he’d NEVER pissed this hard before in his life, and that was saying A LOT. It felt like his bladder was actually vibrating from the sheer force of its contents being emptied out. He was seriously letting go of a FLOOD, and it wouldn’t stop for ANYTHING. NOTHING in the world could make Kenneth stop peeing right now, he wanted to keep doing it forever, it felt so good, so amazing… It felt like a victory, a triumph, like he was defeating a demon.
Indeed, the imaginary voice of his Father had been completely silent the whole time he’d been going. His Father couldn’t take this from him, he could PEE as much as he freaking wanted to right now! His breathing kept coming in deep gasps, his legs and back all shaking with pleasure. So much better, so much better, dear God it was just so much better…
And—
The door to the cell finally opened.
Kenneth’s hands immediately flew to try and cover himself, his stream slowed down, but somehow didn’t stop… And it immediately picked back up to its full strength again when he saw who it was.
“There you—“ Dwight stopped, blushing as he turned around. “Uh… I’ll come back in in a minute…” he said, stepping out and shutting the door again.
Kenneth knew he must have been turning very red, but he was too relieved to feel that embarrassed. He was peeing, and he was about to freed. Everything was okay again. Almost half a minute later, his stream slowed down once more, but this time it was just because he was nearly finished. When the last few spurts trickled into the bowl, he remained seated for another moment, trying to catch his breath and regain some more control over himself.
He gave one more long sigh as he finally got off the seat and onto his wobbly feet. He pulled his pants up and slowly zipped them, then stumbled back over to the bed where he fell face first against the mattress.
His body was completely exhausted, raw and so, so, so fucking relieved… His bladder was still pulsing, as though trying to shove out more urine even though it was completely empty.
The door opened again. “Um… Kenneth?” Dwight called softly. “You done? Come out now if you are…”
Kenneth didn’t want to move from his place, but he needed to be in his OWN bed with Dwight’s arms around him as soon as possible. He dragged himself up— Made DAMN sure he had his stupid fucking notebook— and finally walked out the door, where he leaned heavily against his friend.
Dwight ran a hand down his side, “Kenneth… Are you okay?” he asked. “I know how tight spaces make you feel… How long were you in there?”
“I… I don’t know,” Kenneth replied hoarsely. His voice was worn out from all the screaming he’d done during his entrapment. “TOO long.”
“When you weren’t in the barrack last night, I was so scared,” Dwight said.
‘Last night.’
“D—Dwight? What time is it?”
Dwight pulled back his sleeve to check his watch. “It’s… It’s about when I usually have my mid-day break…” he said. “Almost 12:00.”
’12:00. The… The next day?’
Dwight yawned. “Was… Was up all night looking for you in town, and checking everywhere I could think of, but I couldn’t find you… This morning I asked all the other guards if they’d seen you, and they hadn’t…”
‘Last time I peed before I got stuck in there was, I think, seven in the morning?’
“And I kept thinking something terrible had happened to you, I was so worried. Then, I remembered the letter I wrote you in your notebook, and I hoped you’d read it, and that I hadn’t actually SEEN you with the notebook since the day you were supposed to clean the cells, so I thought maybe…”
‘Holy freaking… That was was somewhere around twenty nine hours without…’
“And, thank God, that WAS where you were,” Dwight said, turning and hugging Kenneth so tight his back popped, before giving him a long kiss on the cheek. “Kenneth, never EVER go somewhere without telling me first again, okay? I almost had a heart attack, never let me think I’ve lost you aga—“
“Dwight, I need medical attention,” Kenneth interrupted.
“What’s…” Dwight stepped back, looked Kenneth over. Poor thing was clearly exhausted, but didn’t look hurt. “What happened?”
“The whole time I was in there,” Kenneth said. “Up until the very end… I wasn’t able to—“
Dwight went pale. “When I walked in… Was that the first time you’d, uh… ‘gone’ in all that time?”
Kenneth nodded. “I— I’m sure I got real dehydrated too, but—“
“Come on, let’s get you checked out,” Dwight said quickly.
***
Following a very thorough examination, which unfortunately involved a medic pressing on Kenneth’s sore bladder a few times, it was determined that he’d somehow made it through the ordeal without another urinary tract infection. Kenneth was relieved to hear that and looking back, with how great it had felt to finally pee— no stinging or burning around his opening whatsoever— that was a good sign he was relatively okay this time.
He was told to rest for a few days, though, to drink plenty of water and to pee right away whenever he needed to. He would have a couple days off to make sure he was in healthy shape.
Once he was finally back inside his and Dwight’s room, his shoulders collapsed from a sudden loss of tension. He was safe and sound once more. He hurried for one of the beds, but Dwight stopped him. “Go pee,” he said. “Before you go to sleep, try and pee again.”
Kenneth actually was feeling pretty urgent by that time anyway, his bladder was definitely worn out. He stumbled into their restroom, unzipped, lifted the seat, and let loose a nice stream right away.
“Wow, that was fast,” Dwight commented from the doorway.
“You were right, I DID have to go,” Kenneth said. “And, I feel safe here. It’s easy here.” He finished after about half a minute and zipped up, then again tried to head to bed.
Dwight laughed. “You going to sleep in the same uniform you’ve had on since yesterday?”
“Oh, right…” Kenneth said, his exhaustion obvious in his voice. He normally wore pajamas, unlike Dwight whom preferred to sleep in just his boxers. But, Kenneth’s pajamas were all the way over THERE near the other bed, and he’d have to go all the way over THERE to the restroom to change, and… He was way too tired for any of that. He just pulled off his shirt and tugged down his pants, deciding to sleep in his boxers like Dwight always did.
Dwight stared, eyes glued to his friend as he stripped off his clothes. Even with his own tiredness after staying awake all night long, the sight got his heart pounding. When he realized Kenneth was going to sleep just in his underwear, his heart pounded more. Hurriedly, he removed his own shirt and pants… And was then very proud of himself when he remembered to make sure the door was locked before joining his friend in bed.
Snuggling with Kenneth was Dwight’s most favorite way to sleep. Snuggling with Kenneth while he was shirtless was going to be even better.
The instant Dwight was beside him, the last knots of tension finally fled from Kenneth’s body. He turned, pressed himself as firmly against Dwight as he possibly could. Dwight put his arms around him and managed to draw him in even closer. “I love you, darling…” Dwight yawned. “Just never scare me like that again, okay?”
“I love you too…” Kenneth said, eyes already going shut. “I promise, I won’t ever let that kind of thing happen again.”
They were both asleep within minutes.
Kenneth’s dreams were free of nightmares. |
People who ship Kenneth and Bryce might enjoy this one...
***
Kenneth and Dwight had spent the day doing a few drills in the forest with Bryce. Night had come and the three would be sharing a tent again. Dwight was very, very nervous. He’d been trying his best to make sure he wasn’t in a dream before he peed, and some nights he was able to wake himself up and use the toilet… But, there were still other nights that he wet the bed.
He didn’t think Bryce would react very pleasantly if Dwight did that tonight. He just had to get himself good and empty before he went to sleep and hope for the best. He started towards the tress, then remembered it had been a while since he’d last taken Kenneth behind one… His friend probably had to go again by now as well, at least a little.
As Bryce set up the tent, Dwight grabbed onto Kenneth’s shoulder, “Come on,” he said. “I need to go.”
“Then go,” Kenneth shrugged.
“I’ve got to help you first,” Dwight reminded.
“Oh, that’s fine,” Kenneth said. “I’m okay for now. I’ll go when the tent’s finished and we’re heading to sleep.”
Dwight frowned. It had, indeed, been hours since Kenneth had last relieved his bladder. And he’d been drinking plenty in all that time. No way was he empty right now. “Well,” Dwight let his legs cross in an exaggerated fashion. He wasn’t bursting to go either, but he thought it would be best to get it all out of him now, rather than risk Bryce ordering him into the tent before he went. “I REALLY need to go, so we should do it now.”
Kenneth looked uncomfortable. His fists swung at his sides uncertainly. He’d had it ingrained into him that he wasn’t supposed to pee if it wasn’t an emergency. The few times that he’d somehow managed to force himself into emptying in front of his Father, Father would scold him; “What were you whining about?! That was NOTHING. You were just wasting my time, weren’t you?!”
All of those times, it HAD felt to Kenneth that he was about to burst, but apparently it was important that he hold for longer than that. He was supposed to wait until it was hurting, otherwise he was wasting time.
As an adult, Kenneth always told himself how nonsensical that was. He told himself he should go whenever he felt he had to. It wasn’t a waste of time to get himself feeling more relaxed, it was what he needed to do.
Yet, most of the time, when he tried to have his bladder release when he only felt a little bit of pressure inside of it, he would almost be able to feel his Father’s rancid breath going down his neck. He’d swear he could hear the man snarling at him that he was weak and pathetic for going now. “You are wasting everyone’s time, you don’t NEED to go right now.”
Sometimes, Kenneth could be successful at peeing when the urge wasn’t intense. If he was about to leave the barrack for a while, then he would generally be able to shut out the memories of Father telling him he needed to hold it until he ACTUALLY had to piss. In those situations, he was able to talk himself down, remind himself that it was very important that he get himself emptied out prior to leaving ‘just in case’. He knew it would be a while before he’d be in his private restroom again.
Right before bed, then it was easy too. Even if he didn’t need it that badly, he was capable of convincing himself that it was the right choice to pee prior to sleeping. He would trace back through memories of his Mother encouraging him to do exactly that. He would recall her gently saying “Almost time for bed, sweetie. Don’t forget to pass water one last time, alright? You’ll sleep a lot better.” And, upon remembering that, he would be able to go.
Other times, it was a lot more difficult. Often, it was impossible. Many times before a long train ride, Dwight would say “I need to go before we leave. Come on Kenneth, you should go too.” But, Kenneth would have just gone a little while ago at the barrack, so he’d know his bladder was mostly empty, and therefor he was wasting time by trying to empty it again. He’d think about how he could make them miss their train, and all over just a quick little spurt of pee he could have easily kept holding in.
Now, Kenneth tried to ignore all of those feelings as best as he could. He watched Dwight’s urgent foot-dancing and told himself that he wasn’t wasting time now. Dwight was bursting to go, and it would actually be a whole lot faster if they went together now.
So, that was what they did. Dwight took Kenneth behind a few trees and began to rub his back. “You can do this,” he said gently. “It’s just me. I’ve got you.”
And Kenneth tried to relax and get his stream started. He tried to remember his Mother’s voice saying “You should always go before bed, you don’t want to have to wake up in the middle of the night.” He tried to remember the nightly routine he’d shared with her when he’d been very little. He was struck by how, in those memories, he’d been able to go in front of her so easily. He’d been able to go so easily in general back then, back before he’d lost his Mother and nearly every aspect of his life got so much worse.
Back then, before Father had discovered that torturing Kenneth’s bladder was apparently one of the funnest things in the world to do, Kenneth could just… Pee. He would pull down his pants and just go, without even thinking about it. There was no pause as he told himself to be calm, no mental reminders that everything was okay, no need for someone to hold him and tell him he was safe. Just… Pants down and pee, that was all. Simple. The same as any other person.
Kenneth wasn’t sure why he was thinking about that so much now. He’d lived with his tense, nervous bladder and its unwillingness to empty for so long that it was an intrinsic part of his life. He’d been forced to contend with and work around his issue for so many years that holding his pee until it became excruciating and then struggling so hard to let it out was just a part of how it felt for him to exist as a person.
He’d actually forgotten that there was a time, very early on in his life, that this problem HADN’T been there.
And then Kenneth felt both incredibly angry and very silly. This curse of his was all Father’s fault, if Father hadn’t treated him so terribly, then Kenneth would be able to piss whenever and wherever the Hell he damn well pleased! If Father hadn’t been such a monster, then Kenneth wouldn’t need to plan out every day and activity around how he’d be able to get relief. If Father hadn’t cast this vicious spell on him, then he wouldn’t have to feel pain so often. And, that made him simmer with rage.
It also made him feel stupid. Kenneth had known all along WHY he had so much trouble voiding his bladder. He’d ALWAYS known Father was responsible for it. He ALWAYS imagined Father screaming at him or taunting him when he failed to go. He KNEW Father was the cause, he’d never doubted it for a second.
But, Kenneth had also always been angry at HIMSELF for this problem, not at Father. Kenneth had always been convinced that his problem was at least a little bit HIS fault too, for ALLOWING Father to get in his head so much! He had always believed something must have been broken in him from the start for his body to have reacted this way, and for it to have CONTINUED to react this way for so long!
But, now that Kenneth had remembered once more that he HAD been fully capable of taking quick and easy pees, he realized that Father was FULLY responsible for all of his urinary troubles! This issue hadn’t lain dormant inside Kenneth’s body, just waiting for the proper trigger before it could ignite and take hold. This issue hadn’t BEEN there until his Father’s cruelty had created it. It was ALL Father’s fault, Kenneth hadn’t done this to himself at all!
And, that simple realization, the acceptance that this wasn’t now—nor had it ever been—HIS fault, made Kenneth feel so much better about himself. “I—It’s not my fault…” Kenneth mumbled.
“Hm?” Dwight asked softly, still rubbing circles into his shoulders.
“This… The peeing thing, it’s not my fault,” Kenneth explained.
“I know it isn’t,” Dwight assured. “Don’t worry, I don’t need to go THAT badly, I’m fine with helping you fi—“
“No, I mean…” Kenneth struggled. “It’s Father’s fault. ALL of it. I didn’t let it happen to me. It’s not my fault.”
Dwight sighed gently against Kenneth’s neck. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You never believed me.”
“Is…” Kenneth felt a tiny pulse of pressure at the base of his cock, a small sensation of something inside him loosening. “Is it okay to go now? Even though I don’t really have to?”
“It’s fine, Kenneth,” Dwight said. “I really want you to go.”
The little pressure at the edge of Kenneth’s bladder ramped up, he felt it soar down his shaft and against his tip, and then he was peeing. Not a huge, gushing stream as what usually came out when Dwight managed to coax out his release, but just a simple, relaxed trickle. Since he wasn’t blasting the bark of the tree hard enough that it was peeling, he felt he needed to say something so Dwight knew he’d been successful. “Okay, I got it working.”
“Heh, I know, Kenneth,” Dwight said, stepping beside his friend and pulling himself out.
Kenneth watched Dwight’s stream flow out immediately. Easily. The same way Kenneth had been able to do it ages and ages ago… He tried to remember how exactly that had FELT, the precise sensation of hardly even needing to TELL his bladder that it was time to drain…. He couldn’t recall what that had been like.
Dwight finished first, and when he did he grew concerned. Kenneth had started before him, but was still going now that he was done… After saying several times that he ‘barely needed to pee right now’. Dwight’s bladder had been causing him a bit of discomfort, he hadn’t been desperate, but his urge had been too great for him to completely ignore… Kenneth had evidently been even fuller than that, yet still not full enough that he thought it really counted as a ‘need’.
That… Wasn’t a good sign. Meant that Kenneth’s perception of his body’s needs must have been skewed. Warily, Dwight counted off the seconds before Kenneth finished up completely and got up to twenty-five. Nearly half a minute, and Dwight didn’t know how long he’d been going prior to him beginning to count.
For Dwight, peeing for half a minute straight meant he’d been holding it a while and had probably been fidgeting at least a little. If his stream lasted even longer, that meant he’d been a squirmy, wriggling mess of desperation and had probably barely made it in time.
But to Kenneth, that level of need was “Oh, I can keep waiting, don’t worry”?!
That left Dwight feeling rather perturbed, and once more he found himself wondering with equal parts horror and fascination ‘Well, what in the Hell is he feeling when he actually thinks he’s bursting?!’ Dwight knew now for sure that, to Kenneth, the phrase “I feel like I’m going to explode!” must have been extremely literal. He’d known for a long time that Kenneth held in unhealthy amounts of urine regularly, he’d seen him LET OUT unhealthy amounts of urine regularly, after all. Now though… Now it was seeming like he rarely— if ever— took a normal piss instead of a violently gushing one…
Kenneth smiled at Dwight, unaware of his friend’s concern. “Let’s see if Bryce got the tent up.”
***
The two returned to the clearing. Bryce had, indeed, gotten the tent mostly prepared. Kenneth and Dwight helped him finish it, and by the time it was standing, Kenneth was feeling pretty sweaty and thirsty. He reached into one of the bags they’d brought for a canteen, which he quickly guzzled and replaced with another, full one.
Bryce’s gaze shifted to Dwight as Kenneth chugged the water. He lowered his voice, “Your friend drinks a lot…” he said. “I have noticed it, quite often.”
Dwight nodded. “Yeah, he gets thirsty.”
“I understand when he is just obeying the hydration rules,” Bryce said. “He HAS to do that. But… Other times. When we are out. He still drinks so much even when it’s not required. Does he not consider his—“
“It—It’s complicated,” Dwight said. “He has… He’s got all these issues with feeling thirsty. Even a little bit. It bothers him a lot. I’m not sure if I should really explain it all.”
By the time Kenneth was done, he’d polished off three whole canteens of water, all of that fluid now coursing through his incredibly pee-shy body. Bryce didn’t understand it. He’d always considered Kenneth to be a moron, but surely after enough experiences of desperation he would have learned to take it easy on the water when he could.
Maybe, Kenneth was less wary now because Bryce and Dwight were the only people out here with him, and he usually didn’t struggle too much with going around either of them anymore. Bryce was pretty sure he HAD just successfully watered a tree a few minutes ago, after all. So, he must have just not been feeling stressed about it here.
That didn’t explain all the OTHER times Bryce had seen Kenneth chug obscene amounts of water when the idiot knew full well he’d have nowhere to go for a while, though.
“He’s got all these issues with feeling thirsty. Even a little bit. It bothers him a lot. I’m not sure if I should really explain it all,” Dwight had said.
Bryce kind of wanted Dwight to explain it, because from where he was standing, it didn’t make sense at all.
***
That night, the three stayed up for a bit and talked. Bryce’s curiosity had been piqued. Kenneth’s behavior was utterly illogical, and Bryce was dying to know if there actually WAS some reasoning behind it. If Kenneth had a health condition that caused a dry throat, or made him dehydrate extra quickly or something, then Bryce would have been informed of it by now. He would have been instructed by his superiors to keep a sharper eye on Kenneth and make sure he drank enough. But, that hadn’t happened.
So, it must have been something else.
“Paulson,” Bryce said as the three settled into the tent. Kenneth was in the middle, between Bryce and Dwight, making it easier for Bryce to talk to him. “Why do you drink so much all the time?”
“I’m supposed to,” Kenneth reminded, annoyed.
“Not just that,” Bryce said. “Other times. When you DON’T have to follow the regimen, I still always see you drink a lot. Why do you do that when you know you can’t—“
“It’s nothing,” Kenneth interrupted sharply. “I just don’t like feeling thirsty.”
Bryce didn’t think ANYONE liked that feeling, but a slightly parched throat had to be better than the pain of holding gallons of piss like Kenneth routinely did. “I’m just saying, it’s dumb to drink so much if you aren’t gonna be able to let it out later. You probably wouldn’t have so many problems all the time if you—“
“Bryce,” Dwight said. “Leave him alone about it. Kenneth can drink as much as he wants.”
Bryce noticed Kenneth beginning to breathe easier after Dwight said that. “Fine…” Bryce sighed. “Don’t tell me, then.”
And with that, they fell quiet for the night. Bryce and Dwight quickly started to snore, but Kenneth continued tossing about between them, wide awake. He knew Bryce hadn’t meant to, but bringing up his water drinking habits had made Kenneth uncomfortable. He knew Bryce was right, that it was idiotic that he drank so much when he had so few opportunities to pee, but he really had no choice about it. Thirst was often even worse on him than a full bladder.
One of the most troubling things about Kenneth’s various trauma-responses was how they interacted with one another. Not only had his Father’s treatment of him made him deeply anxious whenever it came time to void his bladder, other actions his Father had taken had caused Kenneth to view even the slightest feeling of thirst as potentially life-threatening.
Sometimes, Father seemed to grow bored of hurting Kenneth by forcing him to hold his pee until he could do so no longer, and wanted to bring variety to the manner in which he tormented his child. His Father’s favorite alternative to the bladder torture was to, essentially, do the exact opposite from time to time.
When Father’s punishment of choice was to make Kenneth pee his pants, then Kenneth would be instructed to drink copious amounts of water. Or, at the very least, his access to water would not be restricted, and he would be allowed to satiate his thirst when necessary; He just wouldn’t be allowed to let any of that water back out later on.
But, when Father had had enough of causing Kenneth to wet himself, the rules would be changed; Water was forbidden from Kenneth. He could not have even one sip, no matter how desperately he pleaded for it.
Typically, to make sure Kenneth didn’t sneak around and consume water when it wasn’t allowed, Father placed him inside the hall-closet that constituted his bedroom, and locked the door. The closet got very warm, especially during the Summer, and soon Kenneth would have sweated out every drop of moisture his body had. The corners of his eyes where tears came out would feel like they were having pins poked into them. They’d be so dry.
Kenneth would become delirious by the end of the first day, and after the second his body would feel so fatigued and weak that he could do nothing but lay on the cramped, dirty floor. Sometimes, he became desperate enough that he tried to lick his own sweat off his body to try and replenish some of his lost fluids. He’d fantasize about biting through his arm to drink his own blood, just to make the horrible feeling in his throat go away for a few seconds.
Father would occasionally come by the door, he’d kick it hard and talk to Kenneth about how he was having a cold drink, which he’d then proceed to swallow loudly. Sometimes, he would pour a glass of water onto the ground in front of the closet. Kenneth would be able to see the puddle, and it would be just out of his reach as he tried to stretch his tongue out from beneath the crack under the door.
The only thing worse than holding in too much water was not having enough.
To this day, if Kenneth was ever somewhere that he could not easily get a drink, he felt very nervous. He was anxious as soon as the sensations of thirst first arose, and would feel he needed to stop everything he was doing in order to satiate it. When he felt excessively thirsty, he knew that a lot of it was probably just in his head, but that didn’t stop him from feeling scared that if he didn’t drink NOW he would be denied the opportunity later when he badly needed it.
When he felt the least bit thirsty, he drank copiously. It was a compulsion. And it was one that did not pair well with his shy bladder. It was always a bad idea for him to drink a lot if he’d be in public for a while, but he HAD to drink a lot because not doing so made him feel too scared. Inevitably, he’d need to relieve himself. Inevitably, he wouldn’t be able to. And sometimes, it was inevitable that he’d have to drink a bit more even WHILE his bladder was screaming at him that he’d had more than enough.
Kenneth remained awake, staring at the ceiling of the tent as all these memories ran through him. When his sleeping medication finally started to kick in and he felt himself starting to drift off, he also realized that the three canteens of water he’d swallowed earlier were starting to want out.
He groaned. He was just about to fall asleep. If he got up to piss, he’d have to start the process all over again! Plus, he’d have to wake someone to come with him, and it would be a huge hassle. He’d just try to sleep through it. He’d go in the morning.
***
For the first time, Bryce and Elizabeth BOTH had the day off! Bryce had been ecstatic, and had even worked up the courage to ask her to accompany him into town for lunch. Not only that, she’d said yes!
He’d brought her to the fanciest, most expensive restaurant in town, and he did everything right. He got the door for her, he pulled out her chair before she sat down, he’d been cordial and polite… He hoped that meant she’d want to do this again. He hoped that meant she’d maybe want to do other things sometime, too. He’d imagined briefly if, way far off in the future, he could ask her if she had any interest in visiting that special, secret club Bryce sometimes snuck off to. Maybe he’d be lucky, and it would turn out she secretly liked tying people up as much as Bryce secretly liked BEING tied up…
Before he could hope for that, however, he had to show her what a perfect gentleman he was, and partway through dinner that got a little complicated. Out of nowhere, Bryce suddenly needed the restroom extremely urgently. In just a couple seconds, he went from not needing to pee at all, to feeling like he was about to have urine spurting out the bottoms of his pant-legs soon. He flinched at the sudden pressure sharply jabbing at his urethra, his thighs tightened.
He could take a bathroom break and still be a polite gentleman. Bryce just needed to say “Excuse me for a moment,” and quietly walk off. No need to tell her what he needed to go do. He could manage that.
He got away from the table easily enough, but when he found the men’s room it had an enormous line pouring out of it that caused his bladder to shudder. There were dozens of people ahead of him! He couldn’t wait through all that! He was crossing his legs already!
Bryce considered asking someone to allow him to cut, but pride held him back. He didn’t want to admit to someone that he had to pee so badly he couldn’t handle waiting for his turn like he was supposed to. He couldn’t even make himself confess that to a complete stranger he’d never see again!
Bryce would wait. It would be okay. He just needed to keep his legs crossed and not think too hard about it. At the very least, the line was moving quickly. A lot faster than he anticipated. But, his BLADDER was also filling at an alarmingly rapid pace. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes since he’d first noticed his need, but now he was already needing to hold himself tightly. He blushed with embarrassment as his fingers wrapped around his dick in front of everyone in the line, but he couldn’t help it. Whenever he tried to let go, he started to leak!
Bryce gritted his teeth and squirmed, writhing around and stomping his feet as he begged the line to move even faster than it already was. When he looked down at himself, he was alarmed by how much his bladder had swelled. His belt had actually broken apart from trying to contain it, and it seemed to be swelling more and more with each passing second.
Finally, when Bryce was sure he couldn’t wait any longer, he was at the front of the line. He stared eagerly into the restroom, at the long rows of urinals and stalls. His grip on his leaking dick tightened when he heard a toilet flush, the sound both a wicked tease on his bladder and a promise that relief was mere seconds away.
A stall door open and a man exited it much too slowly for Bryce’s liking. Once the stall was vacant, Bryce rushed inside of it and noisily guided the lock into place with one hand while the other ripped open his buttons and zipper. He hurriedly yanked his pants down and slammed himself onto the toilet seat— He could feel that this was going to be a very long, very nice piss and he wanted to really relax and enjoy every second of it. His body was already losing tension now that he’d sat down on the thing that was about to grant his bladder its release.
Bryce exhaled softly and told his taut muscles it was time to loosen up…
***
Bryce squirmed slightly in his sleep, a hand palming his crotch uncomfortably before his eyes slowly drew open. It took him a moment to adjust and remember that he was inside a tent tonight, and after that, he registered the much more important fact that he desperately needed to get up and go water the fuck out of a tree.
Tensing his thighs and feeling the tiniest smidge of dampness between his legs, he knew he’d woken up just in time, too…
Yawning, Bryce tried to get up and—
And finally registered that he was pinned down.
‘What the…’ Bryce was pretty damn close to blind without his glasses, and it was even worse in the dark, so he reached to his side and slid his glasses on. He was then able to see that the weight keeping him on the ground was Kenneth… Whom was… Cuddling him?
Yes, that was what he was doing, alright. Kenneth was clutching firmly to one of Bryce’s arms and snuggling against it.
Bryce felt… Kind of funny inside his chest. Nobody had ever cuddled him before… He figured that Kenneth had probably mistaken his warm body for Dwight’s, but still…
Bryce’s bladder throbbed and he remembered that he couldn’t keep laying here much longer, even if he did kind of… sort of… maybe… almost… enjoy being hugged. He squirmed a little more violently in an attempt to wake Kenneth, but the other didn’t budge.
He’d heard from Dwight that Kenneth was a bit of a heavy sleeper, the medication he took for his insomnia really knocked him out most nights… The last time Bryce had needed to wake Kenneth up, he’d slapped him hard in the face to get the job done. But somehow, hitting a person that was clinging to his arm and rubbing against him like that just felt wrong.
Also, something about Kenneth seemed… Off. Kenneth’s brow was scrunched up very tightly, and he seemed to be trembling. It wasn’t very cold tonight, so Bryce didn’t think he was shivering.
Bryce was starting to tremble a little bit himself. The thrashing in his bladder was really making him want to move, but that was difficult to do in a cramped tent with someone preventing him from getting up. “Paulson…?” Bryce whispered. “Kenneth? Kenneth Paulson, PLEASE wake up, that is an order!”
Kenneth jolted slightly, but remained asleep, his hands actually tightened around Bryce’s arm, like he was grabbing hold of a life-raft out in the middle of an ocean. It kind of hurt, even! Not that Bryce would ever ADMIT Kenneth was apparently strong enough to bruise his arm…
Bryce winced, crossing his legs at the ankles. Kenneth NEEDED to wake up and let him up! Bryce couldn’t last all the way until morning, and he’d never hear the end of it if he peed inside the tent. “Paulson!” he said, louder now. “Paulson!” he lowered his voice back down to a whisper. “Kenneth, please? Your superior would really like to take a pee break now…”
“Mmmn…” Kenneth made a weird, strangled whimpering noise, pressed himself more firmly into Bryce’s side, and now Bryce noted how freaking sweaty Kenneth was… And that he really was trembling an awful lot.
Was the guy coming down with something? It was like he had a fever and chills. After Bryce thought that, he didn’t feel the least bit happy that Kenneth had ended up hugging him tonight. “Paulson,” Bryce said, jostling the arm Kenneth had attached himself to. “If you do not wake up, I am going to make you march for fifteen hours straight next week. Don’t think I won’t!”
Kenneth’s eyes did finally fly open. Completely. Suddenly, he was wide awake.
“Thought that would get you t—“ Bryce cut himself off.
Kenneth’s chest was heaving up and down violently, and then he was suddenly sitting up, shaking more than ever.
“Um… Kenneth? You okay?” Bryce asked as he got onto his knees… His bladder cramped at the new position and he pressed his hands against the front of his boxers. Wow, did he ever need to go! Even HE was shocked that, rather than flinging himself from the tent and taking care of his bladder, he was staying in here and checking to see if Kenneth was alright.
Kenneth didn’t reply, he started to pat his body, his eyes darting in all directions. He looked scared out of his mind, and that made Bryce worry. Was there some sign of danger out here that he’d missed?
“Kenneth? What is the matter with you?” Bryce whispered sharply.
Kenneth looked to his other side, saw Dwight still fast asleep there. Kenneth squeezed onto the sleeping man’s hand.
“Paulson, for the love of God, what’s the problem?”
“N—Nothing…” Kenneth managed between choppy, raspy gasps for air.
“Paulson, this isn’t ‘nothing’,” Bryce said.
“Just… A nightmare,” Kenneth said, ashamed. “Well, memory, really. But, it’s over now, and I’m fine.”
Bryce had had nightmares before, of course. Everyone had. But, he couldn’t recall ever being short of breath like that after one… He saw Kenneth continually glancing at Dwight. He could tell he wanted to wake Dwight up and ask for some sort of comfort, but also didn’t want to disturb his friend.
“Do you… I can hold you for a second, if it makes you feel better…” Bryce said. “Just, don’t go telling anyone, okay? If anyone asks, you told me you had a bad dream and then I laughed in your face for being childish enough to get upset over it.”
Kenneth managed a smile and a nod. He needed to be touched by a person that he… Well, a person that he could sometimes halfway tolerate, anyway. “Y—Yes,” he said, before an earlier discomfort began to knock hard against his urethral opening.”Uh—um… But we can’t for long. I need to… Do something…”
Even though Kenneth wasn’t biting his hands, Bryce still had a pretty good idea of what that ‘something’ was. There were very few things a person would ever need to do in the middle of the night. “That’s okay, I want to do ‘something’ too,” Bryce said. “But, you’re a lot less fun to annoy when you’re like this, so come here.”
Slowly and awkwardly, Kenneth came closer to Bryce. “Y—You’re sure?” he asked nervously.
“Yes,” Bryce promised. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Here he was, dying for a piss, and instead of flinging himself in front of the nearest tree he was going to stay put and cuddle Kenneth— Freaking Kenneth!— until he felt better!
Kenneth rested his head on Bryce’s shoulder nervously, feeling the tension present within it. He didn’t know if Bryce was trembling because he too found it strange to be doing this, or if it was just because he had to go. Bryce didn’t feel like Dwight did. Dwight felt so familiar, Kenneth knew Dwight’s body as well as he knew his own. Snuggling him felt natural.
Bryce wasn’t the same, he was far more rigid than Dwight was, he lacked the softness Kenneth had grown accustomed to in his friend. Bryce was warm though, at least. He was very warm. Warm enough that Kenneth wished he could just go back to sleep. His bladder was making it very clear that it had no plans to allow that, however. It had been throbbing ever since he’d woken up, and rather than dying down the more he ignored it, it just kept getting worse. He would absolutely not be able to get any more rest until after he’d relieved himself.
Not that Kenneth particularly wanted to risk another dream like the one he’d just woken up from. Kenneth didn’t understand why dreams were necessary, most of the time they just tormented him by showing him events whose only redeeming qualities were the fact they were now over.
Then whenever he had a dream that WASN’T terrifying, he usually woke up with sticky sheets and would struggle to look at Dwight without blushing for a few hours.
Why did dreams have to exist? Kenneth wished he could simply close his eyes, fall asleep, and have NOTHING be displayed to him in that time. Sleeping would be so much easier then!
Bryce’s bladder was shouting at him now, demanding to know why in the Hell he was choosing to snuggle this moron when his time would be much better spent peeing. Bryce didn’t understand why he was doing it, either. Kenneth was an irritating little thorn in his ass, why did he care if the man had a bad dream? Why did it matter to him so much? Kenneth deserved to have nightmares because HE could be a nightmare to deal with sometimes—
No. No, that was wrong. Bryce knew it was wrong the second he thought it. Kenneth’s nightmares weren’t merely dreams, after all. They weren’t just figments of his imagination. They were memories. Memories of awful, horrible, terrible things that no human being deserved to endure. Kenneth didn’t deserve to still be tormented by the ghost of a man that was now dead and gone to Hell where he belonged.
Feeling Kenneth starting to shudder, Bryce struggled to figure out if the cause was his bladder or whatever horrifying images his brain had supplied him with tonight. Assuming it was the latter, Bryce’s arms began to act on their own accord. That was the only explanation, his limbs had grown a mind of their own and were moving in ways Bryce himself would never have allowed them to.
That was the only reason Bryce’s arms were wrapping themselves around Kenneth’s body. That was the only reason he was pulling Kenneth into his lap right now. That was the only reason he was pressing the two of them together so tightly.
If Kenneth disliked the increased level of contact, he didn’t act like it, he even nuzzled his head against Bryce’s chest. Kenneth too could not believe he was actually doing this. Bryce was such a jackass! Bryce was one of the biggest dickheads Kenneth knew! But, Bryce was also holding him. Bryce was also rubbing his back. Bryce was also making him feel so safe and protected after his dream had made him feel so vulnerable and scared.
Bryce’s thighs tensed, doing their best to squeeze his pee-hole shut between them. Kenneth didn’t weigh MUCH, but he weighed enough to upset Bryce’s bladder as he sat on his lap. ‘You have to piss!’ Bryce’s brain screamed. ‘Ditch the little moron and go do it!’
Bryce ignored that voice. Kenneth’s eyes were still wide open, his teeth were still chattering… And, he knew Kenneth also had to go. Bryce would have to take him out of the tent with him when he went and then help him settle down. Kenneth still seemed far too terrified to brave the dark wilderness right now.
“Paulson…?” Bryce asked. “Can you tell me what your dream was about?”
“I… Um…” Kenneth struggled. When he was little, it had been very hard to tell Dwight what was happening inside his house. He’d been too… Well, not ashamed, but sort of ‘uneasy’, to explain all of it. It had also been difficult to tell Bryce even small details about how he’d been forced to grow up. Most of the time, Bryce only found out about those things because Kenneth had recounted a story that he assumed was perfectly normal, only to learn from the reactions of other people that it hadn’t been normal at all. “When you asked about the water stuff, it made me think about… Some things.” he said.
“What things?” Bryce said. “You can tell me. If it’s something bad, I promise I won’t make fun of you about it.”
So, Kenneth tried to explain it, he tried to paint a picture of a little boy being denied water as his body slowly shut down and his Father laughed and laughed while he struggled to remain standing. “So… That’s why I drink so much, even though I have… The other thing.”
Bryce stroked Kenneth’s back gently. Something gnawed away inside his chest, and he begrudgingly admitted to himself that it must have been sympathy. To be unable to tolerate even a mild sensation of thirst while also having a bladder that refused to empty when he desperately needed it to must have been absolutely atrocious.
“I just… I wish that if I HAD to have… These… Things,” Kenneth said. “I wish it could be just ONE of them without the other. I hate having to deal with them both, having to figure out how to work them around one another. Because, if I don’t drink water whenever I know I can, I’m… I actually get really scared. But, I always know that if I DO drink it, it’s going to be… Stuck there.”
Bryce struggled to imagine what it would be like if his brain constantly told him to do something that he knew was going to cause him pain later on. He struggled to imagine what it would be like to have to constantly perform a careful balancing act between two of his body’s most basic needs. Bryce had never had to think too hard about it, when he felt thirsty, he’d drink something if it was available but wouldn’t stress out too much if it wasn’t. When he was instructed to hydrate, he did so without a second thought as to where it would all end up.
He was thinking about where all his water ended up at the moment, though. It still wanted to come out pretty badly, and now Kenneth had shifted over in such a way that he was placing even more of his weight against Bryce’s bladder. It felt like an anvil was resting on top of his bladder, trying to press it down and force everything out into his boxers. His body was shrieking at him that he needed to shove Kenneth’s weight off of himself, needed to rush from the tent and up to a tree, needed to relax his tired muscles and go…
But, Kenneth needed… Kenneth needed someone to comfort him, and Bryce was the only person awake to do it. Bryce was never the best at big, emotional things like this. He never knew what he was meant to say when someone confided something like this to him. “I’m sorry,” always felt stupid, because what was HE apologizing for? He was not responsible. “It’s okay,” also felt wrong, because clearly if the other person was so upset then it WASN’T okay. Bryce just didn’t talk about feelings. He didn’t “do” feelings.
“Kenneth…” Bryce struggled, tensing his thighs up since it was about the only thing he could do to soothe his bladder at that point. His hands were still busy holding onto Kenneth, and he couldn’t move his legs without pushing the other man away. “I…” He still couldn’t think of anything to say. It was even harder to communicate meaningfully with someone when his body was begging for him to just let it pee instead.
“For me, feeling thirsty is… It’s actually a lot WORSE than needing to go,” Kenneth said. “I guess… Maybe it’s because I know I probably won’t actually die from holding it, but I’ve come… Really, really close to dying from dehydration a couple times, I’m pretty sure. A few times when Father did that, my body just…” Kenneth looked down. “It didn’t feel right at all. I could barely see, there were all these dark spots around my vision. Everything was cramping, I was hallucinating…”
Bryce hadn’t known that Kenneth had ever been right at the precipice of death. He supposed he should have assumed, with what knowledge he did have of Kenneth’s childhood and of his Father, he should have been able to guess that the bastard had come close to outright murdering him at least once. ‘A few times’, Kenneth had said. He’d nearly died on multiple occasions, when he’d been only a child. And, for all Bryce knew, the water-deprivation torture hadn’t even been the ONLY form of abuse to almost kill him. How many near-death experiences had Kenneth survived?
How could a human being do that to a child, to their own flesh and blood? Bryce’s dad had punished him when he misbehaved, usually by making him do extra chores. Nothing that could have resulted in his death, and only when Bryce had actually DONE something to warrant it. Near as Bryce could tell, Kenneth’s Father subjected him to constant pain for no other reason than he just thought it was fun.
The man had been pure evil, Bryce decided. But… ‘HAD been’. He was dead now. But, he still had so much power over his victim… So much of Kenneth’s behavior seemed to have come from a single source. Was that… Well, no it couldn’t have been normal, because what HAPPENED to Kenneth wasn’t normal. But, there were probably other people who grew up with a monster for a parent, did they too continue to suffer long after their demon had been cast into Hell?
Why was Kenneth still being affected so much by a dead man?
Bryce wished he could think more clearly, he was too preoccupied to figure out the answers to questions that were as big as these. “Was… Was that what your nightmare was about?”
“The dream was about how… Um” Kenneth tightened his grip on Bryce’s shoulders, shifted again and put even MORE pressure onto his bladder.
Bryce didn’t care. He’d hold it until he exploded if it maybe helped Kenneth break free from his Father’s ghost. “You can tell me,” he whispered.
“It was… Once on a very, very hot day, instead of putting me into the closet like normal, Father made me stand in front of the glass window. During the winter, I wasn’t allowed to wear warm pajamas and stuff, but Father went and bought some just for this. He made me wear these super thick footed-pajamas, and just… Stand there in the sun all day. There was nothing to drink, and I got so sweaty that the pajamas squished whenever I shifted around. Then, at the end of the day Father finally gave me a glass of water.”
“So, he ended it early that time?”
Kenneth shook his head, “No. I— I took one sip, and it was worse than if he hadn’t given me any at all. He started laughing at me and told me how he’d…. He’d put a bunch of salt into it and stirred it up… He told me I was so stupid for trying to drink it, and so to punish me he had me swallow all the rest and it burned so much going down and I was so dizzy… And then he locked me in the closet.”
“I hate your Father,” Bryce said. “He should have never had a child.” And then he felt Kenneth go stiff.
Bryce first remembered how Kenneth too had expressed a need to empty his bladder, and worried that he’d now overflowed. But, Bryce didn’t feel any dampness collecting in his lap. Good thing too, at this point he didn’t think he’d be able to tell for sure if the leak had come out of him or Kenneth.
Kenneth wasn’t wetting himself, so—
Oh.
“Kenneth, no,” Bryce said. “I really… I didn’t mean it like that. I’m… I do like that YOU are here. I just meant… I meant that you should have been born to a father that deserved to have a kid, you know? You should have had a dad like mine, that’s all I meant.”
Kenneth was surprised and touched that Bryce actually WOULDN’T prefer to live in a universe where he’d been spontaneously erased from existence. “I wish I’d had a better Father too,” he said. “And I wish that I could forget about everything mine did to me.”
Was that a solution, Bryce wondered. In some of his favorite science fiction stories, people would have their brains erased. He didn’t think that could happen in real life, though. And, usually in the books, something would go wrong with the mind-wiping process and bad things would happen, anyway. So, it probably wasn’t a good idea to do that to someone.
It did make Bryce realize something he hadn’t before; Kenneth’s problems, while they manifested in a lot of physical ways such as his bladder shyness, all seemed to really be located inside his brain. That should have been obvious all along too, but any other time someone was sick or injured, it was completely physical. It could be treated with medicine or bandages and after a few days the person would be fine.
Kenneth was injured very badly, but no amount of bandages would fix it, because the hurt was all in his brain.
He thought of Elizabeth and the other medics. Bryce had never heard of a doctor that fixed people’s brains, unless things like concussions and head injuries counted. But, maybe he’d never heard of it because he’d never had a reason to ask. Maybe Bryce and Dwight just needed to take Kenneth to see a medic, and they’d give him whatever it was he needed to heal all the damage inside his mind. Maybe, all this time, he’d just needed a shot of some kind and then he’d be able to pee whenever he wanted, his anger would be easily controlled, he’d be able to sleep through the night without succumbing to terrifying dreams… Maybe it really had been just that simple all along, but nobody had thought to ask.
“When we get back,” Bryce said. “I’m going to take you to talk to Elizabeth. I’m sorry I never thought of it before, but I think she might be able to give you medicine that makes all of this go away.”
Bryce was startled when Kenneth pressed face into his chest and almost… sort of… cuddled him. Bryce was so startled that a little spurt of pee broke loose into his boxers.
“You think so?” Kenneth asked.
“I do,” Bryce promised. “I’m sure we can make you better… Now, uh… I still have to go, remember?”
Kenneth did remember, and now he remembered his OWN need as well. He’d been able to push it into the back of his mind for a while, but now it was back and very angry with him for ignoring it. “Y—Yes, I… Um… I still don’t want to wake Dwight, could you…”
Bryce nodded. He knew what Kenneth was asking him for. “I’ll… Do that whole… thing for you if you need it,” he assured. “But, just think; Once we know what medicine you’ve got to take, you won’t NEED that help ever again!”
As Bryce led the way out of the tent, Kenneth thought about that; He thought about freedom. No more bad dreams, no more fits of anger, no more holding his bladder until he was sobbing in agonizing pain. He’d be able to sleep soundly. He’d be able to control his temper. He’d be able to just… Pee when he had to. No more planning every day around when and where he’d empty his bladder, he’d be capable of doing it in any restroom, on any tree… He’d be normal. He’d be fixed.
Bryce stopped in front of a large bush, and Kenneth saw that his superior now had a hand pressing into his crotch and wasn’t quite standing up all the way. “O—Okay, um… Is this an okay spot?”
The bush wasn’t exactly private, but nowhere out here was, and from the looks of Bryce he wasn’t going to be too eager to walk much further without peeing first. Kenneth didn’t want to keep walking anymore, either. His thighs had been squeezing together the whole time, and his knees were beginning to bow inwards. Relief was beyond necessary at this point.“It’s fine,” he said.
“Good,” Bryce mumbled, beginning to lower his boxers a little. He stopped, glancing towards Kenneth. “Um… I—“
“You have to go first?” Kenneth guessed. It was fairly obvious, though. Even in the dark Kenneth could make out how tightly Bryce’s hand was squeezing onto his cock.
“W—Well, no,” Bryce stammered, hoping that the pitch black of the night covered up his blush well enough. He could MAYBE hold it until after Kenneth went, but he doubted it. The sound of Kenneth’s stream ALWAYS got him crossing his legs, even if he hadn’t needed to go before hearing it. If he had to listen to that NOW he’d most likely get at least a little damp… “I don’t HAVE to, I’d just LIKE to.”
Kenneth bit down on a laugh that he was sure would send his bladder into convulsions. “You can…”
“Oh, thank God…” Bryce murmured, turning back to the bush and pulling his cock out over the waistband of his boxers. Immediately, a thin jet of clear urine blasted from his tip to begin soaking the leaves of the bush. “Ahhh….” He smiled softly to himself, then shifted his gaze back to Kenneth. “N—Not that I couldn’t have still held it! Because, I definitely could have!”
Kenneth had no desire to laugh then, he could hear every drop of Bryce’s release loud and clear, and his bladder begged for a pair of ear plugs. He rocked back and forth on his feet, jiggled up and down as he gnawed his hands… But all of it was useless, listening to Bryce pee was too awful a tease on his own body, and a quick spurt splashed into his pajama bottoms. Followed by another. And another. And—
And, he clumsily unfastened the button on his pajamas, freed his cock and aimed into the bush. Tiny pulses of liquid kept beading out his urethra, but the waves he wanted to spray out wouldn’t come. His leakage brought him no relief, and the dribbles were so weak they splattered dismally between his feet instead of arcing out into the bush. In spite of all previous experience telling him that it wouldn’t help, that it would only hurt, he smashed a palm over his midsection and immediately whimpered with agony when his stream still refused to build.
Bryce was lost in his own relief, he’d needed this so much… He was shocked at himself for continuing to hold it in all for the sake of that moron… Something must have broken his brain, that was it. It couldn’t have been that he gave one eighth of a dead moose’s last sneeze about the little idiot. Definitely not. He didn’t care what happened to—
It then registered that Kenneth was right next to him, trying very, VERY hard to start watering the bush as well… But, he wasn’t managing it. All that was coming out were a few shuddering trickles. And he was mashing his hand against his bladder area, obviously only succeeding in causing himself more agony…
‘Freaking idiot… He should know by now that doesn’t work, surely?’ Bryce thought. Barely thinking about it, Bryce used the hand not guiding his cock to reach over and grab Kenneth’s hand, tugging it away from his bloated abdomen. “Stop that, you moron,” Bryce muttered. “You’re hurting yourself.” To keep Kenneth from trying to do that stupid thing again, Bryce continued holding his hand, squeezing it tightly as he kept peeing. “I’ll help you in a minute, just let me fini—“
PSSSSHHHHHH!!!
“Ahhhhh…!” Kenneth moaned as his painful dripping finally gave way to a waterfall of relief. His stream hissed violently into the bush, hard enough the leaves were shaking, and immediately he felt a billion times better.
Bryce’s teeth clenched together as an intense blush spread across his face. Did… Did holding his hand make that happen? God, Bryce was holding his hand… Why was he holding his freaking hand? He didn’t dare let go of it now, if gripping it HAD been the thing to relax Kenneth enough to pee, then he didn’t want to release it and risk the other clamping back shut again— Cutting off the flow midstream hurt so badly, Bryce didn’t want to subject anyone to that awful of a feeling!
Kenneth at first wanted to let go of Bryce’s hand, but he too was worried that releasing it would take his ability to relieve himself back away from him. He wanted to make sure he could go and go and go until he was finally finished.
Bryce’s stream was the first to cease and he was able to get his cock back into his boxers fairly easily with one hand, but then he realized with some awkwardness that he was now going to have to stay here, gripping Kenneth’s hand, until the other was completely emptied. As he had been many times before, Bryce was shocked by the quantity of liquid Kenneth could hold back. He didn’t think he’d ever stop being surprised by it.
It took nearly another full minute before Kenneth was finished. Then, he released Bryce’s hand and put his dick away, shivering a bit. “That was… Um… Thank you,” he said. “You’ve been so nice to me tonight. Why?”
Bryce didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t know the answer. He couldn’t understand why he’d chosen to be so kind tonight, all things considered he really shouldn’t have been; Thanks to Kenneth, Bryce had lost a lot of sleep and gotten very desperate to pee. He should have been angry about all of that, but he wasn’t. He’d gotten plenty angry at Kenneth when one of his pranks had cost him sleep…
‘Yes, but he CHOSE to bother you those times,’ Bryce reminded himself. ‘He does not choose to have nightmares.’
He supposed that must have been it. When Kenneth annoyed him deliberately, of course he was upset. When Kenneth actually needed something, Bryce didn’t mind no matter how annoying it was to deal with. “I… I guess, because I could tell you really needed someone there tonight. I don’t know.” He yawned. “Think you can go back to sleep okay now?”
“Y—Yes,” Kenneth said. |
Sorry for taking so long to update anything, I was having surgery.
***
The next morning, the very first thing Dwight did was frantically feel the material between his legs, checking for any dampness.
The second thing he did was rush out of the tent when the dry feeling of his boxers and the absolutely horrid bloat inside his bladder confirmed to him that he was definitely still containing every last drop of liquid that had accumulated in him through the night.
That was another thing; Ever since his bedwetting issue had appeared, every morning that he awoke dry would mean that he was absolutely brimming with pee. It didn’t USED to be that way. Before, he’d make it through the night without going and he’d certainly wake up needing the restroom quite a bit, but not so desperate for it that he felt on the edge of doing it in his clothes from the moment his eyes first cracked open. Now, if he managed to keep his sheets dry, he tended to only have about five minutes after waking before he’d burst and flood himself anyway.
This had become something of a problem. It wasn’t fun to barely have the time to wipe all the sleep from his eyes and rid himself of his remaining grogginess before having to start RUSHING somewhere. And, if Kenneth had gotten up first and was in the restroom already, it was horrible having to wait on him to finish… Granted, THAT only happened a couple times, after which Kenneth ALWAYS kept the door unlocked for him and never seemed too upset if Dwight ran in and started peeing right beside him. Each time Dwight was forced to resort to that, he thanked God that he was the only person on Earth whom Kenneth didn’t mind urinating side by side with.
At least, out in the woods, things like making it all the way to the toilet and hoping Kenneth remembered to leave the door unlocked didn’t matter. Dwight could go wherever he wanted. He took only a few quick steps away from the tent and over to a bush, then his shaky hands fiddled with the button on his boxers for a second before losing a spurt of his burden and deciding he didn’t want to mess with that anymore— He simply yanked them down and let them bunch up around his ankles, his pee spraying out as soon as the fabric was no longer in the way. The pangs in his center dissipated, his taut muscles snapping and immediately going loose. He exhaled contentedly through his nose.
This was nice… It was so peaceful out here, the breeze felt good on his exposed skin, and his body was being taken care of. He didn’t even have to worry about aiming outside, so just let his arms dangle at his sides as he carried on draining. The woods were so quiet this early in the morning, no creatures scuttling about, just the soft rustle of the leaves in the wind—
“Smith, for God’s sake!” he heard Bryce yell. “Are you five?”
Dwight glanced over his shoulder back towards the tent. “Hm?”
“You— Why would you pull them down all the way!?” Bryce snapped. “Have you no shame, or—“
“Bryyyce,” Kenneth whined from inside the tent. “I’m trying to sleep!”
“Sleep-time is over, Paulson. We have things to do.”
“But… We are supposed to have the day OFF today?” Kenneth groaned as he dragged himself outside. “What are you bitching about anywa—“ Kenneth stopped abruptly, staring at Dwight as his friend’s stream finally tapered off to a stop. Kenneth had seen Dwight naked plenty of times now, but there was something different about seeing him that way while bathed in the warm glow of the morning sun… Kenneth started to blush, he brought his hands up to shield his heated face.
“Wow, Smith,” Bryce said. “Even your friend is embarrassed for you right now, look at his face.”
Dwight pulled his boxers back up. “It’s not a big deal, Bryce,” he sighed. “No one else was awake and I couldn’t get the button loose.”
“Well, we’re awake NOW,” Bryce said. “And neither of us wants to see your ass first thing in the morning. Right, Paulson?”
“Uh— Um…” Kenneth’s eyes darted over to Bryce as he tried to remember how words worked. And tried to forget about how much he disagreed with Bryce’s statement. Tried to forget about how Dwight had looked… And how he still looked now with just his boxers loosely covering him, and his chest free and exposed, and—
No.
Please— God… Fuck. Nononononono—
It was too late, Kenneth could already feel the effects of a sudden displacement of blood, and his hands hurried around to his front, pressing over his crotch as he blurted “I— I forgot something important, Bryce! I can’t— I need to go get it RIGHT now—“ and he was rushing back into the tent.
Once alone, he looked down at his lap— Christ, why did his pajama pants have to be so THIN, and why did they need to be GREY. His current… Issue was highlighted so prominently, and it wasn’t going away, either.
There was… One way he could get rid of it easily, but Bryce and Dwight were both right out there, and any sounds Kenneth ended up making would be so obvious. He just had to wait this out… Adding onto his problem, he actually needed to pee pretty badly— He HAD just woken up after all— and he’d never been able to get himself to piss while he’d had an erection. THAT was going to have to wait a while, too.
He’d told Bryce he had to get something out of the tent, so he started rummaging around and pretending he was searching for a lost item.
“Paulson?” Bryce called. “Can you not find it? Want me to help?”
“Nah—NO!” Kenneth cried. “Stay out there, stay out there!”
“Are you okay?” Bryce asked. “You sound upset. You didn’t have more nightmares, did you?”
“Nope! No more nightmares!”
“Nightmares?” he heard Dwight ask.
FUCK. Hearing Dwight’s voice wasn’t helping Kenneth out right now! How had he never noticed how much he loved the sound of his voice before?!
Outside the tent, Bryce turned to Dwight. “Yeah, he had a bad dream last night about his Father. I had to help him feel better.”
Dwight went a little rigid. His fingertips twitched and fizzed, like the feeling he got when his hand had gone to sleep. This was the same protective feeling he always had for his friend, but mixed with something new and deeply unpleasant. “What did you do?”
Bryce blushed and chewed on his lip. Dwight was sure to make fun of him for this… Allowing his nemesis to curl up in his arms for an hour didn’t fit well with his image, after all. “I… You know, I kind of held him for a while.”
That awful feeling in Dwight’s body and mind grew. Why… Why hadn’t Kenneth woken HIM up? Surely, Bryce was just a poor substitute for him, right? Why settle for Bryce when HE’D been right there!? “You should have gotten me up,” he said tersely. “I know how to help him with that kind of thing.”
“Um, okay?” Bryce said, confused. “I was just already awake. So, we let you sleep. I thought you’d prefer a full night’s sleep.”
“Next time, get me up,” Dwight said. “I know what Kenneth needs. I was THERE with him when he was growing up, YOU weren’t. You don’t know what I know.”
“I was just trying to help,” Bryce said. “Jeez, you tell me and the little pissant to try to get along better all the time. I thought you’d be happy.”
Dwight knew Bryce was right, and that he SHOULD have been happy about Bryce doing something so kind, but there was something about the image of Bryce cuddling Kenneth that REALLY made him uncomfortable. Had Kenneth thought Dwight would be angry if he’d been woken up? He shouldn’t have thought that at all! Dwight thought he’d always been very clear that Kenneth could ask him for anything at any time. Did Kenneth need some kind of a reminder of how much Dwight cared about him?
Dwight decided that he probably DID need something like that. The fact Kenneth had been rummaging around in the tent for so long now and STILL hadn’t asked Dwight for help was proof that Kenneth, for whatever reason, believed Dwight was fed up with assisting him and no longer wanted to be ‘bothered’. He just needed to show his friend that he really would do ANYTHING for him.
Kenneth finally crawled back out of the tent, holding an empty canteen. “Um… Yes. Found it now,” he said.
“Took you long enough,” Bryce said. “Do you need your eyes checked?”
“Um… I was also… Doing… Um… Some morning exercises. Stretches and stuff,” Kenneth stammered.
“Inside of that tiny tent,” Bryce said.
“… Yes.”
“Okay…”
“Um…” Kenneth set the canteen down on the ground now, tapping a foot. He needed his morning piss now, and there was no way he’d be able to get it out without someone keeping watch and calming him down. But, he’d only JUST gotten his body to… settle. If Dwight started to touch him and massage his back, his problem would return immediately.
When Bryce helped him, it usually took a lot longer for him to actually go… But there was also no risk of his body… reacting like that to being touched by Bryce. So, he was the option with the least potential for embarrassment right now. “Bryce… I… I have to relieve myself. Could you… Um… While Dwight gets dressed?”
Bryce sighed, “Fine…” he groaned, but by now the complaint was just for show. He knew as well as Kenneth did that he didn’t really mind doing this anymore. And, he hadn’t peed yet this morning either, so it wasn’t like it was going to be a waste of time.
“Wait,” Dwight said. “I can—“
“Don’t worry,” Kenneth said quickly. “Bryce can do it.”
And the two headed into the foliage, leaving Dwight alone and wondering what the Hell he’d done wrong. Why didn’t Kenneth want him anymore? Had Bryce done something last night that had somehow made Kenneth happier than anything Dwight had ever done for him? How could that even be possible? Kenneth called Bryce a jerk at least forty times a day, how could he possibly be replacing his best friend with him all of the sudden!?
Had Dwight done something that made Kenneth think he didn’t care anymore? Dwight couldn’t figure out what that could have been, but he knew he needed to prove his friend’s worries wrong as soon as possible! What would make Kenneth see that he’d do anything and everything for him?!
Bryce was doing… THEIR thing, their special thing, the thing that was just for them! Dwight was supposed to be the only person Kenneth trusted enough for it to work, and it wasn’t until now when that was suddenly GONE that Dwight realized how much it had meant to him.
He—
Dwight knew how to prove his devotion. Bryce seldom put his own needs above someone else’s, but Dwight DID.
Today, Dwight wasn’t going to pee again until after Kenneth already had. He’d feel his friend’s desperation alongside him, and that would show how much he really cared.
Of course, Dwight would not TELL Kenneth any of these things. He wouldn’t mention how upset he was that Kenneth didn’t wake him last night. He wouldn’t bring up how Kenneth’s unusual avoidance of him this morning had hurt him. And he certainly wouldn’t let Kenneth know that he planned to hold his pee today out of solidarity with him, because THAT would definitely make Kenneth feel pressured and make it harder for him to go.
***
Since they all had the day off, the three went into town together. It didn’t take long for Dwight to start feeling some urge to relieve himself, along with a nagging feeling in his head that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Kenneth had an enormous bladder that was conditioned to hold its contents for grotesque lengths of time. Dwight, meanwhile, had a much weaker and smaller one. Even when compared to people OTHER than Kenneth— people with average bladders that could empty them fairly regularly— Dwight usually needed to go more often.
Back when they’d been in training, doing long marches or drills with few breaks in between them, Dwight had always been the first to begin pleading with their commander for a chance to relieve himself… He’d come so close to an accident so many times in those days.
And, Dwight REALLY hated the feeling of holding it. He hated the tingles around the base of his cock, he hated the pressure in his midsection, he hated having to focus his energy on keeping his liquid inside of himself where it belonged. He generally always went as soon as an opportunity presented itself.
He, Bryce and Kenneth were sitting in the cafe now and, had he not made a vow to hold it in today, he probably would have left the table to join the line for the men’s room already. As it was, he just stayed in his chair and tried not to fidget or look too uncomfortable. That was another thing he had to remember today, Kenneth couldn’t find out he was doing this for him, it would stress him out too much. So, Dwight had to make sure that he didn’t allow it to become obvious he needed to pee. No squirming, no leg-crossing, and definitely none of his usual whines and groans regarding how badly he wanted to use the restroom.
He wasn’t near the level where he’d have to do any of those things yet, but knowing how full Kenneth’s bladder had to get before he’d even start CONSIDERING a bathroom break, Dwight knew he’d be fighting hard not to double over by the time relief finally came.
Speaking of relief, Dwight was feeling a little better about the status of his and Kenneth’s relationship now. As they waited on their orders, Kenneth was speaking nonstop to him, just like always. Kenneth was acting like he HADN’T just spent the entire morning trying to avoid him. But, then when Dwight gently rested his hand on top of his friend’s, Kenneth’s eyes flicked over to Bryce for a moment and he quickly withdrew it and stuck it in his lap.
‘He just doesn’t want Bryce to find out, you moron,’ Dwight’s rational side argued. ‘Stop worrying about this.’
‘What if he doesn’t want Bryce to find out because he likes Bryce BETTER than you?’ the new, and far less rational part of Dwight’s brain supplied. Dwight hadn’t even known this area of his mind existed until this morning, but he really wished it would go away and leave him alone. He didn’t like the way it was making him feel, and he didn’t like the way it was trying to persuade him that he actually WANTED Bryce and Kenneth to start feuding with one another non-stop again.
Somehow, Dwight thought that if he just heard Kenneth say the words “I love you” to him again, all these bad, twisting feelings in his stomach and chest would go away immediately. But, Kenneth couldn’t say those words to him out here in public, with Bryce and all of the people at the neighboring tables right there to hear him do it…
Kenneth had been taking small sips out of his water glass and Dwight had been watching very carefully. This was probably terrible of him, but he was hoping his friend had a lot to drink while they were here. The quicker Kenneth’s bladder filled, the better today would be for Dwight. “Are you thirsty, Kenneth?” Dwight asked. “If you want something more tasty to drink—“
“Can you ask if they have that soda I like?” Kenneth requested.
“Of course,” Dwight said. He sure hoped this cafe had that… Kenneth would DEFINITELY drink way more than his bladder could accommodate if they did. Dwight approached the counter and asked, happy to hear that the soda was in stock. He got a few cans for Kenneth and brought them back. “I got you a bunch, since I know how much you like them,” he said.
Kenneth smiled and opened the first one, beginning to guzzle it.
Bryce watched as Kenneth poured the entire can down his throat. Even after hearing Kenneth explain his thirst anxieties the previous night, he still struggled to rationalize how a man that struggled so much with public urination that it brought him to tears on a regular basis could then turn around and willingly drink half his own weight in orange soda while out in public…
Dwight was happy to see Kenneth drinking so eagerly, and his bladder was pleased as well. In the time he’d been seated here, his urge had continued to grow. He was wary of his own beverage, not wanting to put more fluid into his body when he didn’t know how long he’d have to KEEP it in there.
Kenneth finished the sodas quickly, and Dwight smiled at him. Good. Four cans of soda soon to be stretching out his bladder; And he was likely going to finish off his glass of water as well. This might not be so bad. Kenneth may whisper to him “I really have to go now, Dwight…” before Dwight even had to worry about his own need becoming obvious.
By the time they’d finished lunch, Dwight had been tapping his foot against the floor for quite a while, grateful for the cover of the tablecloth. Thanks to that thing, he could wriggle his legs as much as he wanted to without anyone seeing. He was dreading having to stand up and lose that shield.
By complete accident, Dwight had finished his full glass of water, all of it now coursing through his body and headed directly for his already annoyed bladder. As he’d eaten his food, he’d watched as the line for the men’s room dwindled until it had completely disappeared and he could now very easily just walk in there and be fully relieved within a matter of seconds. He kept needing to drag his eyes back away from that door and the inviting sign affixed to it. The sign promised him comfort, relaxation and the ability to uncross his legs without his urethral opening starting to throb with little twitchy pangs of need.
Each time he managed to stop staring at the restroom, he’d look back at Kenneth. He’d check his friend for signs that those sodas had reached his bladder. Dwight was incredibly skilled at picking up on when Kenneth needed to pee. Sometimes, he thought HE could tell that Kenneth needed the restroom before Kenneth had even realized it himself.
Kenneth stood from the table first. He didn’t like sitting around for long, especially when he had the day off. He was always full of energy and excited to find his next activity. When he got up, he felt a pressure pulsing in his middle and thought back to all the soda he’d just had… They were going to have to come back out eventually, he knew.
Not here, though. The cafe was too crowded, and the door to the restroom had been continually swinging open and shut the whole time he’d been here. There was no way he’d have the room to himself, and therefor, no way he’d be able to go.
He didn’t HAVE to go that much, anyway. It was way too soon to even be considering it, he just needed to stop thinking about it and it would fade into the background soon enough. Worst case scenario; he ended up needing to pee in one of the showers at the bathhouse again… He sure HOPED it didn’t come to that, however; As triumphant as that day had been for Kenneth, he knew Bryce wouldn’t see it as something to be proud of, and he also knew Bryce would never let him hear the end of it if he found out.
Bryce stood as well, he made a big show of looking at his fingertips, then remarked that the sandwich he’d eaten had gotten them greasy and he needed to go to the restroom and wash them off.
Dwight watched Bryce depart, not believing for a second that he only wanted to wash his hands. No doubt Bryce was about to do the thing Dwight was starting to get a tad desperate for… He got up, and tried to keep the wincing grimace off his face as the motion shook his bladder up like a can of soda, trying to force it to erupt. Against his will, his eyes settled on the restroom door as it swung shut behind Bryce. He even felt some of the muscles in his bladder area going loose, his body certain that he was planning to FOLLOW Bryce now. Instead, he tensed his thighs together and told himself he needed to wait.
Maybe…
He stepped closer to Kenneth and whispered, “Um… Do you need to go, too?” he asked.
Kenneth blushed and grew rigid. Even if the question had been asked softly, it still sounded too loud to Kenneth’s ears, and he convinced himself everyone here must have heard it. “I’m fine, shhhh…” he hushed.
Dwight’s knees rubbed together in a way he hoped looked normal. His heart sank with disappointment, feeling as though it was plopping down against his aching bladder. The shushing noise Kenneth was making wasn’t helping Dwight’s situation at all, either. It sounded too much like rushing water, teasing his bladder into a fit of spasms. “O—Okay,” he said. He could still wait! And those sodas MUST have been impacting Kenneth at least a little bit by now!
Bryce returned to the table and asked Dwight and Kenneth where they would like to go next. Kenneth wanted to go to the library, and Bryce actually agreed with him that that sounded fun.
The weird, squirmy feeling in Dwight’s chest came back. Bryce NEVER agreed with Kenneth on ANYTHING! What had happened between them last night? What had changed everything?
“I know how you do not like to read,” Kenneth said to his friend. “But, I can read something TO you, if you want.”
Some of the wriggly tension beneath Dwight’s skin faded away. Kenneth still did care about him— And why the Hell was he doubting that so much!? He should have known better! “I’d like that,” Dwight said. He really would. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t like reading, he’d enjoyed several books in his life, it was just exceedingly difficult for him to do it. All the words seemed to dance around the page every time he tried, and he’d sometimes read certain letters like b or d backwards and end up confusing himself.
Even without that difficulty, Dwight doubted if he could concentrate on reading anything to himself right now, anyway. His bladder was demanding more and more of his attention. As they walked to the library, Dwight couldn’t help but look at each and every shop they passed, wondering if they had a restroom he could use. ‘Hold it,’ he told himself. ‘Show Kenneth that you care more than Bryce does!’
Once in the library, Kenneth searched for a book he thought his friend would like. Dwight made him laugh better than anyone else could, so he tried to find a book that looked humorous. Subconsciously, he raised a hand to his mouth and chewed on his pinky.
Kenneth realized what he was doing a moment later and paused. He certainly was beginning to feel a tiny bit uncomfortable… He was a little surprised by how much his need for the restroom had built up during the short walk from the cafe to the library.
He considered if he should return to Dwight and tell him that he actually WAS starting to need a pee. But, he wasn’t bursting. And Dwight wanted him to read to him right now! It would be just silly to interrupt that when he only vaguely had to go.
He could still wait.
Kenneth found a book that seemed like it would be funny and returned to a group of chairs where Dwight was waiting for him. He noticed Dwight’s back looked super rigid, the same way he straightened himself out when sitting in front of a superior officer… That was weird, because the chairs here were all super comfortable. They were soft with flexible backs, nice places to curl up and read for a few hours.
Kenneth laughed, “Why are you so stiff?” he asked. “It is our day off, remember? You are allowed to be comfortable now.”
Dwight jolted a bit, then leaned back slightly… But he still looked really, really tense. His hands were gripping the armrests of the chair, fingernails digging in deep enough to leave indents. How odd…
Oh!
Kenneth knew what was wrong! The LAST time they’d come here together, Kenneth had picked out one of HIS favorite books to read— A very gruesome horror novel. It had scared Dwight so badly that he was terrified to go outside after dark by himself for a month. He must have been worried Kenneth was going to read him another story like that.
“Don’t worry, this book isn’t scary,” Kenneth promised, opening it. “It’s supposed to be funny.”
Dwight was relieved when Kenneth started to read. Now, his friend’s attention was on the book instead of on him— It was getting SO hard not to squirm! It felt like his bladder was doing cartwheels inside his body, the liquid it was containing being sloshed and thrashed like massive waves during a hurricane.
He was grateful he couldn’t SEE the restrooms from where he was sitting, they wouldn’t be right there and taunting him nonstop like the ones at the cafe had— But he still knew EXACTLY where they were and that he could get to them in less than five minutes. Other times Kenneth had brought him here and read him a book, there usually DID come a point where Dwight would ask him to pause between chapters so he could relieve himself.
He had gotten fairly desperate here in the past, such as when Kenneth was reading him a particularly exciting story and Dwight hadn’t wanted to take a break from it. Or when he told himself to wait until the end of a chapter so that Kenneth wouldn’t lose his place, only for that chapter to end up being very, very long… By the end of it, Dwight was barely able to listen to his friend, so loud were the screams from within his body.
But, both of those times Dwight had at least known that his bladder would be emptied the moment he finally spoke up and said he needed to go. He’d still been in control.
That wasn’t an option today.
His bladder would remain full until the moment Kenneth finally spoke up and said he needed to go, and Dwight had zero control over when that would be.
Dwight needed to stop thinking about this. Thinking about past emergencies, and agonizing over when his current one would be brought to an end, was only making him need to go even worse. He didn’t understand WHY, it wasn’t like thinking about peeing could make his kidneys work faster than usual, right? But still, the more he thought about urinating, the fuller he felt…
He tried instead to focus on the book Kenneth was reading to him… But, it REALLY wasn’t helping. He understood this book was a comedy, but he wished that its opening scene could be something OTHER than the main character desperately trying to find a bathroom before his date showed up and saw that he was desperate to piss.
It didn’t help that the author of the book obviously had talent, the description of the poor guy’s agonizing search for SOMEWHERE to empty his bladder was incredibly vivid. It was clear the author had experienced something at least vaguely similar before, because the way the man’s need was described was downright VISCERAL. Dwight felt each and every word of it.
“I cannot possibly withstand this for much longer,” Kenneth read. “I simply must relieve myself of the torrents of water within me. I absolutely MUST. I have been containing this for what feels like eons. I feel I have forgotten what it is like to NOT need the restroom. The surges from within refuse to cease even for a moment, instead only growing more violent in their insistence that I give into their incessant pleas…”
Dwight thought he agreed with the man in the book. He too was struggling to remember what an empty bladder felt like. His had been full for far longer than he could usually abide, and he still could not gauge how much longer his ordeal was going to last. ‘That doesn’t matter,’ he told himself, for he knew he had NO CHOICE but to contain himself until after Kenneth peed, however long that might take.
Another thing that was doing Dwight no favors was HOW Kenneth was reading the book to him. Kenneth was one of the most dramatic people Dwight knew, he expressed every emotion with so much intensity and passion…
It meant that when he read to Dwight, he really brought the story to life. Dwight didn’t think the horror book from a few months ago would have scared him even half as badly if it weren’t for how real Kenneth made everything sound— The way he projected so much genuine-sounding terror into his voice, the way he even threw in little sound effects… In another life, Kenneth could have been great working on radio dramas.
And now, of course, Kenneth was doing his absolute best to make the book character’s desperation SOUND just as real as the descriptions. He kept making little, urgent whimpering noises between sentences. Every word out of his mouth was wavering, breathy and tinged with blatant need. “Ooooh,” Kenneth whimpered, breathing heavily. “I cannot believe a place as upscale as this lacks proper toilet facilities. There MUST be one around here somewhere. Nnnnhh, I have to find it as soon as possible. Ohh—! I fear she will never want to see me again if I greet her in soaked clothing, but— Ah!— It is becoming increasingly likely that I will do exactly that!”
Dwight felt like HE was going to do ‘exactly that’ soon as well! He was actually somewhat shocked by how much feeling Kenneth was putting into the reading. When Kenneth was ACTUALLY desperate in real life, he tried so hard not to moan and whine as much as he was doing now. He eyed Kenneth’s face and was equally stunned to see that his friend wasn’t even blushing at the words and sounds coming out of his mouth— This wasn’t ‘real’ to him, he must have been viewing all of this as simply stepping into the shoes of the character, so none of it was making him feel self-conscious.
Had Dwight’s mind been more at ease, he may have thought about ways to use ‘acting’ and ‘playing pretend’ to help Kenneth feel more at ease when he actually had to pee… As it was, all of that mental energy had to go towards WISHING that Kenneth actually had to pee right now.
Kenneth DID actually have to pee right now… A bit. There was a definite feeling of heaviness below his belt now, and when he had to read a paragraph where the book’s character started to daydream about emptying his bladder onto a bush outdoors, the line ‘My waters would at last gush away, unrestrained and I know I would be unable to help the sigh that would fall from my lips as my body at last succumbs to bliss,’ was enough to make Kenneth cross his legs at the ankles and tense up his thighs.
But, for Dwight, that line managed to wind such an atrociously taut rope of suggestion around his bladder that his first leak of the day sprung forth into his boxers. He bit down hard on his lip to keep from making a noise, a gasp at the shock of sudden warmth encasing his length. Without thinking, he reached to give himself a nice, long squeeze.
The relief his hand brought him was immense, and when he forced it back away after a moment to avoid Kenneth’s notice, the panicked protesting pangs that fired through his bladder were mythical in their intensity. Dwight crossed his legs tight, hoping that he could get away with at least doing THAT much, but it didn’t feel like that would be ENOUGH to keep his bladder satiated for much longer.
By the end of the chapter, the man had found somewhere to release his bladder… Into the bouquet of flowers he’d intended to give to his date whom, of course, showed up the second he’d unzipped his pants. “She’s here, watching wide eyed as I desecrate what was meant to be a gift to her, I do my absolute best to screw my faucet back shut, but I am now powerless against the tide. Mind-breaking humiliation mixes with Earth shattering levels of relief as hours upon hours of suffering and torment come at last to an end. Just when I think I couldn’t have made a worse impression upon her, the plastic encasing the flowers proves to have a smaller capacity than my bladder and splits apart, a puddle beginning to grow at my feet as she just keeps silently watching. Then, against my will, I sigh; ‘Ahhhhhhhhhh….’”
Oh… Jesus, that noise… Now, THAT sounded EXACTLY like the moans Kenneth let out while he peed. And listening to those would make ANYBODY desperate to go… Even, as Dwight discovered now, if they WEREN’T accompanied by the torrential hiss of one of Kenneth’s heavy, long streams… Dwight’s legs tightened even more around one another.
Kenneth turned the page in the book and finally blushed. “Heh, well that was a silly noise,” he said. “Didn’t know I could sound like that…”
‘You sound like that EVERY time you piss!’ Dwight thought, but decided not to say. He’d long theorized that Kenneth failed to NOTICE that he was so ridiculously vocal when he emptied his bladder, and this had just confirmed it. Dwight also had a hunch that, if Kenneth ever realized the borderline perverse groans that flew out of him in those moments, he’d be so embarrassed he’d try to never pee again.
And Dwight couldn’t have Kenneth trying that TODAY when his own relief was dependent upon Kenneth’s.
Kenneth was about to begin the second chapter when he noticed Bryce walking over to them. “Are you two ready to go?” he asked.
‘YES!’ Dwight’s mind and body screamed. He was WELL past ready to ‘go’!
“We haven’t been here that long,” Kenneth complained, setting the book down.
“I know,” Bryce said, rolling up his sleeve and pointing to his watch. “But, there is a store I wanted to visit today, and it closes soon. So, we are going to have to leave.”
Dwight caught sight of Bryce’s watch, stunned by how late in the afternoon it already was… He wasn’t sure what the exact time of his last pee was, but was positive it had been WAY too long ago.
Kenneth forced himself to leave the comfy, fuzzy chair, and immediately rocked back and forth on his heels as a much louder reminder of all the sodas he’d swallowed began to make itself heard. He still wasn’t desperate. He could still hold it. But… Wow, was it starting to get uncomfortable! There was a constant, rippling pinch at his opening now and every few seconds he needed to tense his thighs to keep it from getting too intense. “There had better be something interesting at this store, Bryce,” he said.
“There is!” Bryce insisted. “Stop whining.”
Dwight noticed Kenneth’s little foot-dance and once more felt himself flooded with hope… He managed to stand again, but was unable to bring himself to a full stance upright. He had to lean forward partially to keep his bladder from feeling too stretched out, but bending over TOO far made it feel compressed and squished. He made himself step as casually as he could over to Kenneth. “Do you need to go before we leave?” he asked softly.
Kenneth… Definitely DID need to pee now… But, he could wait longer than this. And Bryce REALLY wanted to get to the store before it closed… Kenneth knew from past experience that this wasn’t an easy place for him to pee, what if he took so long to go that the store was closed by the time he was done? Bryce would yell at him and probably tease him for weeks over it! He shook his head, “There’s only one stall here, and the last time I was here the lock on it was broken.”
That… Wasn’t EXACTLY a ‘No, I don’t have to go yet.’ That was an ‘It’s hard for me to go HERE.’ Which meant there was still a chance… “I’ll hold the door shut for you,” Dwight offered. “Would that help?”
Kenneth, again, shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Dwight. I don’t need it that bad right now…” He eyed his friend’s unusual stance. “You can go if you want.”
Dwight looked away. “No, it’s fine. I don’t need to,” he insisted. “I’m just… My legs are sore after sitting still for too long. That’s all.”
Kenneth shrugged, “Okay,” he said, beginning to follow after Bryce.
The walk to the store was a lot longer than Kenneth had anticipated. He didn’t really mind walking, it took a lot to really wear him out, but his bladder was scolding him for not taking Dwight up on the offer of a toilet break back at the library. He knew he could still wait a lot longer, even if he was needing to walk with his knees pinched inwards a little bit. He just needed a distraction, that was all. Once they were at the store— Which Bryce had continually promised WAS very interesting— Kenneth knew he’d be able to ignore his need better again.
Dwight, however, couldn’t ignore his need anymore if his life depended on it. He remembered the two accidents he’d had as an adult— The one at the villa and the one in front of Elizabeth— and realized with some fear that THIS was how he’d felt shortly before those incidents had taken place. This clawing, spasming roll deep within his core and a strange, warm pinching feeling running up and down his length. His bladder was beyond full and did not have any space left inside it. He had to go so badly that he could barely see straight anymore!
Dwight blinked a few times and realized the fogginess in his vision was due to the fact he’d begun to cry. He couldn’t hold it, he couldn’t hold it… He HAD to, though! He needed Kenneth to see that he’d do ANYTHING in the world for him, even if it was painful. Even if it was causing him to cry.
At least his eyes were the only place he was leaking from right now. He hadn’t felt even one drop of his urine pump itself out of his bladder after that first leak a little while ago. His pee was staying right where it belonged, right where it HAD to stay until after Kenneth had finally peed. Dwight just wished his bladder would get it through its mind that he WASN’T going to empty it no matter how much it screamed at him to do so.
Dwight thought that his need would likely be easier to withstand if it weren’t for the fact that he was in a place where it was so very EASY to find a restroom. If there just wasn’t anywhere for him TO go, then all the confused, pleading pangs from within may have been softer. His body just couldn’t grasp why he was continuing to ignore its urgent signals when there were so many places nearby where he could get relief. This wasn’t what his body was used to, the only time Dwight USUALY held his pee was when he genuinely just didn’t have anywhere to go.
As Kenneth watched Dwight hobble along and occasionally press a hand against his crotch when he thought no one was watching, he felt himself growing just as confused as Dwight’s bladder was. It was blatantly obvious that Dwight was in serious pain, filled to the brim with pee. Kenneth couldn’t understand why he hadn’t gone yet. Everywhere they’d been today had had a public restroom which he would have been free to use, but for some reason he hadn’t. And, knowing how unashamed Dwight typically was about this, Kenneth couldn’t fathom why his friend hadn’t given up and just unleashed his waters in an alleyway yet.
Kenneth knew his friend abhorred the feeling of needing a restroom, and preferred to empty his bladder at the earliest opportunity possible. He never made himself wait unless there was a legitimate reason for it, but there certainly wasn’t one of those right now. It was their day off! Dwight didn’t even have to ask Bryce for permission to go, or anything! He was free to do as he pleased!
So then, did he just WANT to hold it for some reason? Was he having too much fun to pause for a break? Kenneth noticed Dwight’s eyes were shining and doubted that that was the case. He was in TEARS from how bad he needed to go, it was clear that there was nothing Dwight wanted to do more than pee right now.
Had he just somehow not noticed any of the restrooms they’d passed? That would be a little weird, as surely Dwight had been looking out for them, and he’d used the restroom at the cafe and the library lots of times. He knew where they were. “Dwight?” Kenneth whispered. “The store Bryce wants to see probably has a toilet. Can you hold it okay until we get there?”
He’d noticed! Dwight forced himself to stand up straighter, then thrust his hands into his pockets so they wouldn’t return to his crotch. Now that his hands were trapped and could no longer grip his member, he felt a surge of warmth shoot down his length before jetting into the material of his boxers. The new, damp heat encasing his tip was a horrid tease on his still bloated bladder; That tiny loss of control hadn’t brought him any relief, and he felt more desperate than ever to allow the rest to come out.
Still, he refused to tell Kenneth that. “O—Of course— I mean, I don’t need to hold anything.”
Kenneth stared at him for a second, as if to confirm to himself that Dwight really HAD said those words. One thing Kenneth knew about his friend was that he NEVER denied it when he had to pee. Quite the opposite, given the opportunity he would groan and whine and talk incessantly about how terribly desperate he was. And, if someone saw him squirm and ask if he wanted a break, he would ALWAYS whimper something like “Yes, please? I can’t wait much longer!”
To hear Dwight insist that he DIDN’T have to go in spite of copious evidence to the contrary was very confusing. Kenneth expected that sort of thing from Bryce, that idiot was always too prideful to admit that his bladder wasn’t big enough to contain everything within it. Kenneth himself always struggled to say ‘yes’ if someone asked him if he needed to relieve himself because he felt so embarrassed…
Was that it? Was Dwight feeling unusually bashful about his bladder today for some reason? THAT was very unlike him as well, Kenneth had never seen Dwight care one iota about someone possibly seeing or hearing him pee, but maybe something about today had made him feel more self-conscious?
Kenneth had a feeling he knew what it was; This morning, when he’d pulled his boxers down all the way to pee without realizing Bryce was awake to see him so exposed. Bryce HAD been pretty mean about that, he HAD definitely tried to make him feel ashamed of himself. Had it worked? Was that why Dwight didn’t want to mention that he needed to go now?
Kenneth leaned into his friend again. “Dwight, don’t feel embarrassed about this morning,” he whispered. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”
Dwight struggled to think back to that morning… He remembered getting upset over Bryce hugging Kenneth in the night. He remembered worrying when Kenneth didn’t ask him for help. He remembered… God, he remembered peeing in the bushes. He remembered how good that felt… His hands strained inside his pockets, trying to reach his dick. He was unsuccessful. “I… It’s just that I really don’t need to go, Kenneth. That’s all.”
“Dwight…” Kenneth sighed, confusion beginning to give way to annoyance. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing!” Dwight insisted. “Nothing is wrong, and I don’t need to pee!” Each denial sounded more like a confession, even to his own ears. “Why are you asking?”
“Because—“
Dwight allowed his hopes to rise, “Do… Um, do YOU have to go? Want me to come with y—“
“No,” Kenneth interrupted. He only had to pee a little! Dwight’s dancing was certainly making his own urge build up a bit, but he could hold it! So long as he kept his thighs tense and didn’t walk too quickly, he barely even NOTICED the pressure in his bladder! Dwight clearly needed the toilet WAY more than he did, it would be downright cruel to ask Dwight to assist him with using a public restroom right now, to force Dwight to help HIM pee when his own bladder was so much closer to bursting.
Kenneth knew how unlikely he’d be able to go WITHOUT Dwight’s help, so that meant he would have to wait until AFTER Dwight had peed before he even thought about asking.
Luckily, Kenneth knew he could definitely hold it until then. Dwight was sure to give in to his body’s demands as soon as they got to the store. Then, if Kenneth decided that he had to go badly enough, he’d ask.
When they got to the store— Which sold a variety of very strange looking glass sculptures that Kenneth figured probably reminded Bryce of props in his favorite books— there was a sign in the back clearly designating where the restrooms were.
Kenneth nudged Dwight in the side and pointed to them… Jabbing him way, WAY too low for Dwight’s comfort. Kenneth’s elbow dug deeply into the swell of Dwight’s bladder, causing the other man to jolt and let loose yet another small spurt of urine into his pants… Wow, Dwight thought that his abdomen felt… Firmer now than it usually did… Stretched out and hard as could be. He glanced down at his body, it was hard to tell through his clothes but he thought he may have actually been a little swollen…
Dwight had seen Kenneth holding back a bladder that was so full it protruded many times before, but he’d hardly EVER seen the same thing happening with his OWN body. No wonder everything hurt so much! No wonder it felt like his skin was going to tear! Something was actually causing his skin to expand and distend unnaturally. If he hadn’t seen Kenneth’s flat midsection straining in this same way so many times, Dwight would have been scared that the overtaxed ball of tension in his core was a sign that he was going to actually burst!
And, recalling how often Kenneth’s bladder became visibly swollen like this, Dwight was once again stunned and appalled by what his friend must have been through. Dwight had only just now noticed how bloated he was, and he was frightened by it and in more pain than he’d ever thought a simple need to pee could possibly cause. He wanted nothing more than to GO right now— Even in his pants! It hurt so brutally that he didn’t think he’d even CARE that much if he peed himself right where he was!
But, when Kenneth’s bladder became this distended, Dwight had seen him just… Continue holding it. Sometimes for several more hours. And he’d be whimpering and in tears and doing all sorts of pee-dances, but he’d STILL keep all of that fluid inside himself. Dwight couldn’t imagine enduring THIS feeling— This awful, terrifying, agonizing feeling— for SO long! But, Kenneth did it regularly…
“Dwight,” Kenneth whispered sharply. “The restrooms are RIGHT over there, go use it.”
Dwight’s bladder screeched at him to listen, to run to the toilet and piss out a violent stream that was sure to leave him weak at the knees… But, he still COULDN’T! He forced himself to shake his head, his vision blurring at even that tiny motion. He needed to go so badly he felt sick! “I—I’m fine, Kenneth… Stop worrying.”
Kenneth blinked at his friend in total incomprehension. “Dwight, I don’t understand. This isn’t like you. Just go.”
Dwight kept shaking his head. “Don’t need to,” he insisted yet again. Dwight hadn’t realized it, but he’d resumed holding himself. He told himself to let go, but his hands refused to listen. Each time he tried to drag them away from his crotch, they only clamped themselves down tighter and tighter. He knew that his continued denials of his need were completely laughable. He was doubled over, crossing his legs tight enough that they were going numb, and clutching his cock for dear life. Anyone could tell he was mere moments away from peeing— Whether his zipper was still up or not.
“Dwight, you— You—-“ Kenneth ran a hand through his hair out of pure agitation. Watching his friend’s pee-dance was making his own bladder convulse. Most of those sodas had DEFINITELY worked their way through him by now and were beginning to beg him for release. But, if Dwight carried on being so freaking STUBBORN, Kenneth still couldn’t ask him for the necessary assistance. “The floor here is freaking CARPETED,” he realized, glaring down at his disobedient feet that were now beginning to shift around.
“Th—That’s fine,” Dwight said. “Everything’s fine. Everything is fine. I’m fine, I don’t need… Stuff, or anything. It’s all fine.” He was babbling, he barely even made sense to himself anymore. This had been a terrible idea! He’d known for years that Kenneth’s bladder capacity far, FAR outweighed his own. He was now overcome with the urge to blurt out everything and try to explain to Kenneth how he’d managed to get himself into this awful state, but his mind was so devoid of anything apart from the white noise of his desperation that he couldn’t do it.
“FINE!” Kenneth snapped. “If you want to wet yourself for some stupid reason, go ahead!”
Dwight flinched, another jet of pee being knocked loose. He felt the warmth flowing into the palms of his hands, but he didn’t care… He’d made Kenneth angry. Kenneth got angry a whole Hell of a lot, but rarely did Kenneth get angry at HIM. On the rare occasions Dwight did manage to infuriate his friend, he’d feel horrid. He was supposed to be the one person Kenneth didn’t get frustrated with… Dwight had tried to make their relationship STRONGER with this misguided effort, and instead he was pushing him away… “Kenneth, I—“
“Quiet,” Kenneth grumbled, stalking off. He looked at some of the figurines, trying to quell his rising anger. He didn’t want to blow up and lose it like he so often did. Not here, where losing his temper would probably result in him shattering a lot of very expensive glass. Not at Dwight, the only person he could say he really loved…
But, Dwight was really ticking him off right now. And he wasn’t acting like himself at all. Kenneth was worried now that maybe HE was the one that had done something wrong to make Dwight behave so strangely. He couldn’t think of what that could have been, however.
Not to mention, Kenneth’s bladder was beginning to really pinch at him, the pressure that had been remorselessly increasing all day was finally becoming more than he could ignore. He needed to go, and he needed Dwight’s help TO go, but Dwight needed to go so much WORSE so he still couldn’t bring it up!
Kenneth could still wait, it would be uncomfortable and he was now to the point that he couldn’t help but squirm around a little, but he COULD still wait. Just… With Dwight acting like a complete moron for no discernible reason, Kenneth didn’t know how much longer he’d have to hold it… It could end up getting pretty awful for him soon…
Of course, Bryce was an option. He could ask Bryce to soothe him into pissing instead. But, he’d never asked Bryce to do that for him in a public setting like this before. Only outdoors when it really had just been the two of them. Bryce may not be as willing to enter a public restroom stall with him as Dwight always was. He’d worry about what that would do to his ‘image’ if someone saw.
But, he realized that he could ALSO ask Bryce to help with Dwight.
Kenneth found Bryce in another area of the store, examining some vaguely translucent looking figurines that resembled strange, green alien creatures. “See, Paulson?” he asked. “Told you the stuff here is—“
“Could you come… I don’t know, just ORDER Dwight to go take a piss, or something? He’s acting weird.”
“Wait, he didn’t go when we got here?” Bryce asked. “I was half expecting him to flood the entire town while we were walking.”
“I… Um…” Kenneth looked away. “I was too…” he admitted. “But, he’s refusing to pee right now for some reason.”
“Because he’s an idiot.”
“Yes,” Kenneth nodded. “So, could you make him go?”
Bryce shrugged and set the figurine down. Dwight hadn’t moved from his place close to the front door, but that didn’t mean he’d been still. His body was absolutely vibrating now, clearly incapable of holding still for even a second. “Smith,” Bryce said. “Stop being a complete moron and go take a freaking piss. If I get banned from here because you pissed all over the place, you’re not gonna like what I do to you.”
Dwight, again, flinched. He felt urine gliding down one of his legs now. “I— I don’t—“
“You do,” Bryce grouched. “I don’t know what shit you’re pulling today, but it’s idiotic and I want it to end now.”
“I—“
“Dwight, please?” Kenneth begged. “You’re hurting yourself— You— Just come with me, please?” he took Dwight’s arm and led him past all the aisles of glass sculptures, led him towards the restrooms.
And Dwight allowed himself to be led, because Kenneth was holding him again now and that was a good sign…
When they got into the restroom, Kenneth was surprised by what he found. The stalls weren’t like what he was used to. They all had regular doors, each stall was like its own separate room. And the doors themselves looked thick. They were heavy and made out of some kind of metal…
Dwight still made no move to enter one, though.
“Dwight, please just—“ Kenneth stopped, his bladder pulsing angrily. He… Wasn’t feeling the same nervous, antsy tingling he usually felt inside a public bathroom. He wasn’t being flooded with the usual, disparaging thoughts of ‘There’s no way I’m gonna be able to piss in here’.
Instead, he felt more like he did when he returned to his barrack at the end of each day, his bladder uncomfortably full and heavy with the knowledge that he was so close to his safe place— To somewhere he could allow it to gush as much as it wanted. He felt… Comfortable here, and his bladder was taking that as a cue that it was moments away from being drained, sending him a series of urgent, insistent throbs even though he knew he didn’t need to go THAT badly just yet… He shifted from foot to foot, trying to avoid looking at the doors that looked so secure and private…
“Dwight, you’re going to have an accident,” Kenneth groaned finally. “Just pee.”
Dwight had already STARTED to have an accident, but he was still determined to wait until Kenneth had gone first! “I… Can’t right now.”
Kenneth struggled, straining for any kind of explanation. He was very, VERY familiar with needing to urinate and being unable to, even if a toilet was right there. To his knowledge, Dwight had never experienced anything of the sort in his life, though. But, maybe he just randomly was today? Kenneth sometimes couldn’t go if he was anxious about something totally unrelated to peeing, was Dwight just stressed today? Was it making it hard for him to go?
If that was the case, then Kenneth shouting at him and scolding him for all this time certainly wasn’t helpful… A heavy feeling bloomed in his chest. “I’m sorry, Dwight… I did not realize you were having trouble today. I’m a jerk…”
Dwight blinked back several tears. He’d heard what Kenneth had said, but he hadn’t understood it…
“I shouldn’t have been yelling and stuff,” Kenneth went on. “You need quiet right now, don’t you? I’ll… Um… I’ll wait in one of the stalls for you, and look how NICE the doors are here. You probably won’t hear anything from inside of one of them. Would that help you?”
Dwight still didn’t know what Kenneth was talking about, but his friend entering a bathroom stall was definitely something he wanted to have happen. Maybe Kenneth would GO while he was in there, and all of this could finally be over. He nodded.
“Okay,” Kenneth said, entering the closest stall. He clicked the lock shut behind him, hearing it engage. The lock felt… It felt really heavy. Really tight. Nothing was going to get through it.
And he was right, the stall really WAS like its own little room. Totally private, totally secure. Just like the restroom at the barrack… Actually, maybe even BETTER than that, because Kenneth couldn’t hear a THING from outside the door.
And that meant, nobody would be able to hear anything happening INSIDE it, either. No matter how much his stream hissed, no one would know…
And… And there was a toilet here, of course… And Kenneth’s bladder was really uncomfortable, even if it wasn’t bursting at the seams. He remembered all the times Father had scolded him for peeing when it wasn’t an emergency… “You are wasting my time! You could have held a LOT more!”
But, this wouldn’t be like wasting time, right? Dwight was— Kenneth hoped to God— Urgently flooding one of the other toilets right now. There was a REASON they were in here, a very good one…
And, Kenneth remembered things his Mother had said— “Kenneth, the walk to the store is very long. Come try to go before we leave…” Sometimes he’d say he didn’t really have to. “I know you don’t NEED to, but it is a VERY long walk. It’s good to go just in case.” And Kenneth would listen. Sometimes it would take a bit for him to actually pee since he wasn’t holding very much, but after he managed it Mother always told him that he’d made a good choice…
Kenneth felt so safe here… So much safer than he usually felt in a public restroom. It would be okay if he went, right? He was already here… And the pressure within was getting worse by the second…
He lifted the seat on the toilet and unzipped. Usually, around this time, Kenneth would be hit with an urge to go back to the door and CONFIRM that it really was locked. But, he didn’t feel that now. There was no compulsive need to go check. He knew it was locked, he’d heard the bolt slide into place. He knew he was secure, and would continue to be secure until he CHOSE to unlock it.
‘Okay, Paulson…’ Kenneth told himself. ‘You can do thi—‘
Before he’d even finished the thought, his stream was flowing. Gently, easily, trickling down into the bowl without a care in the world. And there was no sense that one wrong move— breathing in too shallowly or accidentally shifting one of his feet— would cause his release to shut back off. He was peeing, very simply, just like anyone else would…
And, there was just so much relief when it hit him how truly EASY this was right now. He hadn’t needed to fight to do this, he’d merely needed to unzip and let his body handle everything else. Automatic. Normal. The way it was SUPPOSED to be. The way it SHOULD have been all the time.
He was going to have to remember where this store was located for the next time he came to town. So long as it remained open, there would be a place where he could just… Pee whenever he wanted to.
Then he had another thought; Once the medics figured out whatever medicine it was he had to take to make his bad feelings go away, he’d be able to pee like this ANYWHERE!
His stream didn’t even last a full minute— Forty-five seconds at the most, absolutely minuscule compared to how much he typically gushed— But, by the time it had receded, he felt more relaxed and relieved to have gone than he ever had before. He exhaled deeply, overcome by how wonderful he suddenly felt.
He left the stall, hoping Dwight had finally gotten relief as well, but—
Dwight was obviously still holding it. Tears were flowing down his face, but shockingly no urine was flowing onto the floor below him just yet.
“Oh, Dwight, you couldn’t go?” Kenneth guessed. “Come… Come here, I’ll make it better, I—“
“Did you go?” Dwight asked, his eyes shining.
“Yes,” Kenneth said, unsure if it was a good idea to admit it, to tell Dwight his own bladder was freshly empty when Dwight was still apparently struggling to make his own cooperate. “I—“
“Oh, thank you!” Dwight exclaimed, pushing past Kenneth and into the stall, leaving his friend standing there in confusion yet again.
Dwight slammed the door shut behind him and barely remembered to put the lock in place as his other hand yanked apart his buttons and zipper. “I can’t hold it…” he muttered to himself, finally allowing the whines he’d been holding in along with his bladder to spill forth. “I can’t hold it, I can’t hold it… Gah, I gotta pee SOOO bad!” He stumbled to the toilet, pulling his dribbling penis out and aiming it at the bowl. The drips continued for several seconds before his body caught up to the world around him and understood that it was finally okay to release.
Pee began to pour loudly into the toilet, and Dwight flung his head back with an intense moan. “Ohhhhh…. Goddddd….” he didn’t typically get so vocal as he peed— That was usually Kenneth’s thing— but he’d never EVER felt this level of relief before. He’d never thought that he could actually FEEL the way his bladder was shrinking and deflating with each new wave of urine that gushed from him. He’d felt a fraction of the pain Kenneth put up with today— And now he was also feeling a fraction of the RELIEF Kenneth got to enjoy…
And… It was good. It was so, so good… It was better than… Than anything… Dwight could barely believe a feeling this good existed. He felt like he was orgasming and that it was going on and on and on with no end in sight. He was amazed that something so horrible could transform into something so beautiful in a matter of seconds. He wanted this to never stop. He wanted to keep standing here and letting it flow forever. He wanted to feel this way all the time. His body was trembling as tingles soared up and down it, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he just kept moaning and moaning and moaning…
This was what Kenneth felt when he peed, it had to be… And it fully justified all of those ‘silly noises’ as Kenneth had called them at the library.
Of course, it had to stop eventually. Dwight had discovered today that he could hold more in his bladder than he’d thought, but there was a limit. When the last of his liquid drained out into the bowl, he shivered and stumbled against the wall, breathing in and out heavily as he tried to adjust to how different everything felt now. His entire body was so raw, so sensitive… It felt like a harsh breeze could knock him over now…
He left the stall a minute later, sighing once more. “God, that’s better…” he mumbled. “I needed that…”
Kenneth stared at him. “Yes… You sure did…” he agreed. “Why did you— Why wouldn’t you go earlier? Is there something wrong?”
Dwight blushed as he went over to the sinks. It seemed so silly now… “I wanted to show you how much I care about you,” he tried to explain.
“By… Rupturing your bladder?”
“By not peeing until after YOU did,” Dwight said. “It’s… I don’t know, Bryce told me you and him hugged a lot last night, and I felt weird about it… I—“
“He was the only one up,” Kenneth said. “I was freaking out.”
“I know,” Dwight said. “But, you COULD have gotten me up! And, then there was this morning…”
“When Bryce saw your…” Kenneth blushed. “Um… Backside?”
“No, not that,” Dwight said. “I mean, you were looking for your canteen for so long, and never even bothered to ask me to help. Then, you wanted Bryce to help you pee instead of me. It’s like you were avoiding me!”
Kenneth covered his face, but that did nothing to conceal his glowing blush. “I— I wasn’t avoiding you… Not really,” he said.
“You were, you—“
“When I saw you naked this morning, I got… Um…” Kenneth felt like he was on fire. “I… It gave me… a… I just… I had… I had an erection, okay?” Kenneth finally spat out. “You looked… Really good, and it just— Happened! That’s why I was hiding in the tent for so long, I was waiting for it to go away! And, I asked Bryce to help me… With the… peeing, instead of you, because I was worried that if you touched me, I’d just get… Like that again.”
“Wait, really?”
“Yesss,” Kenneth said. “I can’t believe you made me SAY all of that!”
Dwight stared at his friend, realizing that he’d ultimately just forced himself to hold his bladder until he’d nearly exploded all because he’d accidentally given Kenneth an embarrassing, inconvenient boner this morning. “So… You aren’t trying to… Put distance between us?”
“No!” Kenneth shook his head. “You idiot. Why would I do that? I…” he lowered his voice to a whisper, even though he was sure they were the only two people in the room. “I… Love you. You know that.”
“I know…” Dwight said. “I don’t— I don’t usually feel this way, Kenneth. Thinking about Bryce holding you and stuff… It…”
“It made you jealous?”
“I… Guess so,” Dwight agreed. “But… That’s silly, isn’t it?”
“Very,” Kenneth said. “Remember what I said before, how I’ve literally never felt… This stuff for ANYONE but you? I meant it. You have no reason to be jealous of Bryce, or anyone else.”
“Okay,” Dwight said. “Let’s um… Let’s go now…”
Kenneth sighed, “Not yet…”
“Hm, what’s—“
“Your fly is still down, my sweet, little moron…” |
(This one was originally written for the May writing contest...)
***
Bryce took Kenneth to see Elizabeth, to learn if she or the other medics could help make it a little easier for him to pee. Kenneth was excited, but also worried. He didn’t like talking about his… Problem. Bryce did all the talking for him, though. He described— a little TOO proudly for Kenneth’s liking— how he’d figured out that all of the issues Kenneth had been struggling with— his shy bladder, his anger, his nightmares— were coming from something being wrong inside of his head. “Because all this bad stuff happened to him when he was a kid, I think it made him sick. But, just in his brain. So, if you give him whatever medicine fixes that, he shouldn’t have these problems anymore, right?”
Elizabeth didn’t answer at first. She’d already suspected Kenneth’s bladder issue didn’t have a physical cause, and she knew that things like nightmares and anger came from inside the brain— Everyone knew that. Bryce was completely correct in guessing that Kenneth’s problems all came from in his mind, but his assumption that a ‘medicine’ existed to fix it…
Elizabeth knew that there were certain… facilities where people went when they had a problem inside their brain. They were usually sent there against their will, too. And with good reason. Elizabeth didn’t think anything that was done inside of those places deserved to be called ‘treatment.’
When Elizabeth was younger, one of her neighbors had been sent to such a facility by his family. He’d returned eventually, completely changed… But definitely not ‘better’. The next time she saw him, he’d had a scar on his head, and he was a husk of a person, bleary eyed and listless. When she’d asked what had happened, he mumbled vaguely about electric shocks. She never saw that neighbor again.
“Bryce,” Elizabeth said. “There are… facilities for people with issues inside their brains, but—“
“So, I just have to take Kenneth there?”
“No,” Elizabeth said firmly. “No, no. You definitely shouldn’t. What happens in those places… Kenneth won’t come back from there.”
“What?” Kenneth asked. “Do they keep people there forever?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “They… Come back out eventually, just… Okay, at these facilities, the main things they would do to you would be strapping you down and electrocuting you, possibly they will also perform an operation on you that removes a part of your brain.”
Kenneth went silent. He had no idea how any of that was supposed to work. He was trying to FORGET about being hurt, how would hurting him AGAIN help?
Bryce stared at Elizabeth, trying to make sense of it as well. When he remembered the mind-wiping thing that occurred in some of the science-fiction books he’d read, he assumed that maybe the real-life equivalent worked out better than the fictional version did. “O—Oh, so they… Take out whatever bits of his brain still remember his Father, and then he’s better?”
“I’m sure that’s what they’ll SAY they’ll do,” Elizabeth said. “And, they may even BELIEVE that is what they are doing, but… I saw a man come back from that, and I promise he was NOT better at all. His problems hadn’t gone away, they’d gotten even worse.”
Kenneth slumped in his chair. When Bryce had told him the medics might have had a way to fix him, he’d gotten his hopes up way too high. Now, his hope had been knocked back down hard against the Earth. “S—So I’m just… Stuck, then? I’ll always have this… thing wrong with me?”
Elizabeth was at a loss. She could bandage wounds and treat broken bones with ease… She had no idea what to do for an aching mind. She couldn’t go inside Kenneth’s head and rub some magical ointment that would chase away all the hurt there. She couldn’t do anything for him, and the only places that CLAIMED to be able to heal his pain would instead just embolden it.
“I…” Elizabeth frowned. She badly WANTED to help Kenneth, it made her feel pretty broken herself that she didn’t know how. “You do at least have ways you can manage this, don’t you?”
Kenneth supposed he did, he could get Dwight to help him pee, he could have Dwight hold him after a nightmare, he could punch a wall when he was angry so that nobody got hurt… But, those things didn’t always work, and they certainly didn’t get RID of his problems. ‘Managing his problems’ was not the same thing as ‘getting rid of them forever so he never, ever had to deal with them ever again for as long as he lived’. He sighed and got to his feet, forgetting that Elizabeth was still waiting on him for an answer.
He should have never let himself believe that a cure actually existed. He should have never let himself think that his troubles would be over if he simply asked the right person.
“Kenneth, dear?” Elizabeth said. “Are you okay?”
“It’s… Always going to be this way?” Kenneth asked. “I’m just stuck? I’m always going to lash out, and have nightmares, and never be able to… to just ‘go’?”
Elizabeth felt so awful. Normally, she could FIX things! Normally, she knew just what to do to solve a problem!
“Um… Okay. So, the other week, when you accidentally got locked in the cell and couldn’t… ‘go’ for so long. Um… What were you feeling?”
“Pain,” Kenneth listed. “Agony. Sufferi—“
“I— I don’t mean physically, I mean inside,” Elizabeth said. “It really sounds like your issue is heavily tied to your emotions.”
“It is,” Kenneth nodded. “I’ve known that for a while. It gets worse if I’m stressed or scared. Usually I feel that way because there are people near me, but other times it comes from something else.”
“That’s what I thought…” Elizabeth said. The problem seemed simple now; Kenneth just couldn’t go when he was stressed. His anger and nightmares both seemed to be tied to nerves as well. And, it made perfect sense that he felt under pressure. His childhood and adolescence had been— to put it very mildly— stressful. And he’d gone straight into training after he came of age, no breaks there. And now, he only got days off very rarely.
Kenneth had never had the opportunity to truly relax even once in his entire life. He’d spent practically his entire existence in fight-or-flight mode, always looking out for danger.
The answer to Kenneth’s problems were perfectly clear now; All that he needed was a whole lot of rest and tranquility, and then everything would be fixed.
Now… How to loosen him up?
Whenever Elizabeth got a day off, she always went to the same place; the bathhouse. Getting a massage or resting in the sauna for a while always calmed her nerves enough that, upon returning to work, she was always able to keep a cool head. Maybe it would help Kenneth, too? “Kenneth, do you think visiting the bathhouse would help you with your stress?”
Kenneth thought about it. His last trip there definitely HAD helped him a lot; He’d managed to relieve himself there without Dwight being beside him to soothe him into doing it, and the massage he’d gotten afterwards had made him feel a whole lot better as well. “Yes, I think so,” he said, but he wasn’t sure what Elizabeth intended to do there, and there was one thing he knew WOULDN’T help him relax. “Just… Not in the actual bathing areas. I don’t want to… Not in front of strangers, you know?”
“That’s fine,” Elizabeth said. “I was thinking we could just get massages, or spend time in the sauna. They will give you a robe to put on in while you’re in there.”
“Oh, that’s alright then,” Kenneth nodded, although he thought that even a robe would feel a little strange to him. He was so used to only being seen by other people while in his uniform— It was to the point that a lot of people couldn’t even picture him without it.
“Great,” Elizabeth said. “We can go this weekend; Oh, and make sure you drink plenty of water beforehand. Trust me. If you don’t, the steam will just make you feel very thirsty instead of helping you relax.”
***
Saturday morning, before he left, Kenneth heeded Elizabeth’s warnings and made sure to drink as much water as he could manage. Ordinarily, if he was thirsty and had to swallow down a lot of water prior to going out, he would find himself filled with dread as he thought about how all that liquid would soon be stretching out a bladder that he was unable to empty. But, he’d peed successfully at the bathhouse before, he was confident that if he had an emergency today, the warm, loud spray of one of the showers would work its magic just as it had the last time.
At the bathhouse, Elizabeth and Kenneth were informed upfront about a minor inconvenience; There was a problem with the septic tank, and the toilets were out of order until it was rectified… This likely explained why there didn’t seem to be many people here today.
Kenneth wasn’t bothered by the situation, he’d had no intention of relieving his bladder into one of the toilets today anyway. But, then the employee continued, explaining that the restrooms were both in need of a thorough cleaning, so he wouldn’t be able to get to the shower stalls in there, either.
Elizabeth turned to Kenneth, unsure if they should stay. She thought about asking him, but felt silly about it. She was under no illusion that one quick session in a sauna would calm Kenneth down so much that he’d suddenly be fully capable of urinating into a public toilet. The facilities being out of order wasn’t taking anything away from Kenneth that he hadn’t already lost to start with.
She directed her gaze back to the employee. “That’s alright,” she said. “We just wanted to spend some time in the sauna. So long as that’s still available, we’re fine.”
The employee nodded her head, “It is, don’t worry.” She began to lead them down the hallway and directed them into a wood-paneled room lined with dressing hooks that housed thin, white robes. “First, get changed. Take everything off and put on the robes,” the employee said.
Kenneth finally started to feel a bit of apprehension. He hadn’t thought… Well, he’d assumed that these things would be segregated by gender. He knew the actual bathing rooms all were… He felt weird enough when he had to change his clothes around other men! And what if he accidentally made Elizabeth uncomfortable?
“Kenneth, it’s alright,” Elizabeth said, stepping inside. “I’ll face the other way, or we can just take turns if that makes you feel better.”
“O—Okay…” Kenneth nodded, following her. “A—As long as you don’t look…” He faced away from her and, with trembling hands, started to unbutton his uniform. Taking clothes off anywhere other than inside the safety of his room NEVER felt right. He’d needed to do it plenty of times before of course, but it hadn’t gotten any easier. When he got rid of his shirt, kicked off his boots and peeled away his socks, he cringed as he realized what needed to happen next.
He pulled his pants down quickly and felt more exposed than he ever had in his life, standing in an unfamiliar place wearing nothing but his boxers, and… ‘Oh God, she said EVERYTHING, didn’t she?’ He gripped the waistband of his underpants, trying to force himself to remove them. ‘Elizabeth’s not going to look… And she’s a doctor! She’s seen… People naked before, it probably doesn’t even phase her…’ Squeezing his eyes shut, he yanked his boxers down and stepped out of them, hand immediately going to cover his groin area even though he was facing AWAY from Elizabeth.
Hurriedly, he grabbed one of the robes and put it on, tying the sash tightly. He still felt like he was naked, raw and exposed, but better than he had a moment before.
For Elizabeth, getting undressed was nowhere near as troubling. She had struggled with it her first few times coming here, and she’d never gone into the changing room alongside a man until now. Normally, the groups going into the sauna were larger, and so it was easy to divide up into groups of men and women before changing. But, today it was just her and Kenneth…
She didn’t feel AS unnerved taking her clothes off with him in the room as she’d thought she would. She knew Kenneth was no doubt lost in his own little world of self-conscious, embarrassed panic right now, it wasn’t even crossing his mind to look at her. She wasn’t even sure if her parts were of any interest to him to begin with.
She put the robe on, and asked Kenneth if he was ready for her to turn around. When he mumbled out a ‘yes’, she did.
Elizabeth had never seen Kenneth out of uniform. Even when he was injured and staying in the medical building, he insisted on leaving as much of it on as he could; When he’d injured his leg months ago, he’d remained in his uniform, only allowing her to roll up the leg of his pants to attend to his wound.
She thought she knew why he was so attached to it now; Without it, he looked astoundingly vulnerable. Without his cap, his face looked rounder, his big, shimmering eyes were more pronounced. Without his boots, and the small bit of extra height they provided, he looked tinier than ever. Without the padding in the shirt, his shoulders appeared narrower, his arms even thinner. It was no wonder Kenneth wore his uniform even when he wasn’t required to do so, he NEEDED the sense of authority it afforded him, the way it concealed how small he really was.
Kenneth was holding onto both sides of the robe, trying to make sure it was covering him up alright.
“Kenneth… Are you okay? If this is making you too anxious, we can—“
“I— I think I’ll feel better once we actually start,” Kenneth said.
So, that was what they did, they entered the main room of the sauna, more wood finishing, and some places to sit down and rest. Kenneth took his place, and Elizabeth sat a small distance away from him. She wanted to talk to him, to ask him how he was feeling… She’d never noticed how fragile he was before, seeing him out of uniform made Elizabeth want to hold him and promise to never let bad things happen to him.
Steam was flowing all around them, and Kenneth was already sweating up a storm. He thought Elizabeth was right to tell him to guzzle water before coming here— And that he probably didn’t even have to worry about needing to pee before this was over. He was bound to sweat out all of his water before it even considered flushing into his bladder. What he wasn’t sure of was… Well, how in the world was THIS supposed to be relaxing?! So far, he was just absurdly uncomfortably. He felt vulnerable, naked and like his skin was going to melt off. People did this to calm down and feel GOOD?!
“Elizabeth…?” Kenneth asked.
“Yes?”
“Um… How is this relaxing? It’s… I feel like I’m standing on the sun.”
Elizabeth laughed, “You have to get used to it… And I think they just put water onto the rocks recently, which makes it steam up more and feel warmer.” She stood. Beside the pit where the rocks were being heated were several large, unopened bottles of water. Mainly, they were for pouring onto the rocks, but they could be consumed as well. She grabbed two of them and returned to the benches. She gave one of the bottles to Kenneth. “If it’s too hot for you right now, you can—“
Kenneth had already torn the bottle open and begun to chug it. He hadn’t been so eager for a drink of a water since the horrible dehydration punishments his Father had subjected him to. He drank so fast that he nearly choked, and once the bottle was empty he could feel all that liquid sloshing around inside him. “God… That’s better…”
Elizabeth smiled. She just seemed to have suddenly developed an innate NEED to take care of Kenneth right now. Those big eyes, his tiny, trembling body… “Want more?”
“Yes, please…”
Elizabeth gave him the second bottle, which he finished just as quickly, before remarking that NOW the temperature in the room actually felt nice.
Elizabeth nodded, deciding she should probably drink some water as well, beginning to drink it down slowly. Elizabeth hadn’t wanted to say anything earlier, but the toilets here being out of order had been a much bigger disappointment to her than she’d let on. She too had consumed an awful lot of liquid before coming here, just as she did every other time. And, every other time, she’d usually visit the restroom BEFORE entering the sauna because a lot of the water would have already made it to her bladder by the time she arrived and she didn’t want to get herself desperate while inside of it.
There had been a tiny bit of pressure in there when she and Kenneth arrived, but not enough to cause alarm. Now though, that pressure had been steadily increasing for quite a while, and she was already worrying about where she’d be able to release any of it.
She hadn’t meant to finish the whole water bottle, but dehydration was such a serious concern when visiting a sauna, and she knew better than to NOT listen to her body when it told her it was thirsty in here. So, before long, she’d put at least one more liter of fluid into herself, and her knee had begun to bounce.
For several minutes, Kenneth came to understand why people found saunas relaxing. His skin felt… Weirdly tingly, but in a good way. Kind of like being lightly tickled with a feather. And, the peace and quiet was good too. He’d had a lot on his mind, and very little time to actually think anything through very much lately. Such as his fears about his and Dwight’s relationship being found out. Dwight had said he didn’t think Bryce would care too much, but could that really be true? Bryce was so big on following rules, on having everything be a certain way…
But… Sometimes Bryce did break rules, didn’t he? He let Kenneth have the day off the day Dwight had gotten injured and Kenneth was so anxious that he couldn’t work. Bryce wasn’t supposed to let his subordinates skip their duties no matter what was happening. And, there was the time Bryce had simply made up the results for Kenneth’s fitness exam after realizing Kenneth had to pee too badly to complete the exercises properly. Forging something like that was UTTERLY against the rules!
So, there WERE times when Bryce was okay with a rule being broken, if he thought there was a good reason for it.
Would he think ‘But, Dwight and I love each other!’ was a good reason to break a rule?
Maybe he—
Kenneth’s thoughts were interrupted, as well as the pleasant state of relaxation he’d managed to get himself into, when a harsh thud in his bladder and a sharp tug at his urethral opening brought him back to reality. There was an INTENSE pressure inside his midsection, the sort of thing he usually felt right around the time of his mid-day break, when his afternoon visit to the toilet was a few minutes away and he was bouncing on his heels with eager anticipation for it.
When the Hell had THAT happened?! He hadn’t even noticed the urge building up, just one second he was calm and lost in his thoughts, the next he was clenching his thighs and telling himself to hold it!
Where… Where was he going to pee?! He didn’t think he could hold it all the way back to his barrack, not with how bad his need already was! The shower he’d let himself gush into the last time he’d been here wasn’t available! There was that store he, Dwight and Bryce had found recently, with those nice, super private toilet stalls… But that was on the other side of town! A very, VERY long walk for someone carrying an uncomfortably full bladder.
He didn’t even know how long he was going to be staying here, how long his bladder would CONTINUE filling. By the time he left, there was a decent chance that it would go from ‘uncomfortable’ to ‘agonizing’, and reaching that store would be a test of strength and endurance.
‘Don’t think about it,’ he told himself. ‘Just don’t think about it. Pretend you don’t need to pee…’ He began to rock subtly from side to side, trying to push the urge rippling through his abdomen out of his mind.
Elizabeth was having similar thoughts. In the few minutes since she’d first noticed her need beginning to grow, it had skyrocketed to the point she felt like her midsection was stretching out. She wasn’t going to make it all the way back without letting go. Even now, she was wriggling in her seat, fanning her legs in and out rapidly as she did her best not to think about toilets and about how good it would feel to use one.
If she tried to walk all way back with all this liquid aching to break free, there was a decent chance that she’d… That she’d ‘go’ on herself. With Kenneth right beside her! That was completely unacceptable, she hadn’t had an accident since she was eight. No way would she risk another NOW, especially not with a witness!
Okay, the toilets here didn’t work. She could find somewhere else in town, couldn’t she? But, that would take a while. Going from place to place, asking if they had a bathroom she could use without paying them anything. If she were on her own, she didn’t think that would be a huge deal, but she’d just watched Kenneth chug a TON of water. He was going to NEED to let that out soon and, as she understood it, he was going to have to get back to his barrack in order to do that. Following Elizabeth around while SHE looked for a working toilet would add to the length of time he’d have to wait, and… And, she just… Kenneth was suddenly devastatingly precious to her, she didn’t want to do anything that made him feel pain.
She needed some way to go HERE, quickly and easily. She needed…
In the center of the room was a large drain.
No, that was so disgusting—
But, if she went DIRECTLY into the drain, didn’t get any on the ground surrounding it… That wouldn’t be SO bad, would it?
Elizabeth sighed. Was she really considering this!? She wasn’t THAT desperate, was she? She just needed to think of something else!
Thinking about something else hadn’t worked out so well for Kenneth. He’d tried imagining the beach, as he often did when anxious, but then he was bombarded by fantasies of running into the ocean and letting go of his bladder once he was nice and concealed. He tried thinking about Dwight, but most of the memories he ran through involved Dwight helping him take amazingly nice pees.
No matter what he thought about, it always came back to pee. Even looking around the sauna for a distraction only provided him with ideas related to pissing. Like, that drain in the middle of the room. Its whole purpose was to get rid of excess water caused by all the steam. Surely it could handle HIS ‘excess water’ too, right?
Wait, that was actually a good idea!
The door to this room could be locked, and there weren’t any windows anywhere. It was private, no one would know if Kenneth relieved himself in here. He’d be extra careful to get it ALL into the drain, and not on the ground— Not that he thought anyone would be able tell the difference between his pee and a puddle of water unless they stuck their nose into it for some reason.
Yeah. He could pee into the drain, get rid of this awful burden that was making him cross his legs and knead his hands into his robe agitatedly.
Just… Just as soon as Elizabeth left, of course. No way in Hell could he empty his bladder with HER here.
Elizabeth hadn’t been able to distract herself. Thinking about work led her to recall how desperate she got whenever she was too busy for a break. As well as all the times she’d helped injured folks relieve their bladders.
To her surprise, she found herself thinking about Bryce a whole lot. The guy was so silly with his pompous attitude and his insistence on being ‘proper’ around her. Remembering funny things Bryce had said or done in her presence actually worked for a bit, but then she recalled the time he’d been so exhausted and out of his mind with desperation that he’d accidentally peed out an immense, rushing stream before she’d managed to leave him alone in the restroom. This was immediately followed by the memory of the day they’d gotten locked in the supply room together, and how Bryce had made her that nice funnel device so she could aim her stream and pee standing up like a man could.
She’d actually used it quite a few more times since then. It had helped her out at work, providing her a much faster way to relieve herself when she was really busy. Sometimes when she went into town, she’d need to pee and discover that the nearest public toilet was absolutely revolting and not something she would ever want to make physical contact with. Before, such a situation would necessitate her finding somewhere else to pee, but now that she could just stand, it wasn’t a problem at all. She still sat down to go most of the time, but the device was always inside her pocket, just in case she needed it.
She wished she HADN’T left it in her pocket today, because now it was sitting on the hook in the changing room. If she’d brought it in here with her, she’d have a much easier time aiming the entirety of her stream down the drain…
Jeez, she was REALLY considering that, wasn’t she?
With a wriggle in her hips and a harsh thrumming pulse from within, she realized that peeing in the drain really was her best option here. No way was she going to make it the long walk back, and the last thing she wanted to do was have an accident in front of Kenneth.
Not that ‘squatting down and peeing into a drain in front of Kenneth’ was something she particularly wanted to do, either.
He was probably almost done in here, anyway. When Kenneth got up to leave, she’d tell him she just wanted to stay a few minutes longer, and then she could go.
Easy.
Except, it wasn’t. Kenneth had begun to fidget and grow restless, a sign that he had become bored of this activity, yet he still was making no move to leave. Elizabeth watched as he tapped his feet, turned about in his seat from side to side and tipped his head back, but he never stood up.
All the while, Elizabeth’s bladder continued to fill up. She seemed to be losing fluid through her pores just as quickly as it was being dumped into her bladder. The worst part was that her nonstop sweating was making her thirsty again. She fought it for as long as she could, her bladder throbbing and protesting that she absolutely SHOULDN’T drink any more water until she’d dealt with what she’d already finished, but soon enough the sand-paper feeling in her throat became too much. She knew how dangerous dehydration was, and she knew how easy it was to get that way in an environment like this.
She stood, her bladder immediately cramping in on itself at the change in position. She’d been desperate plenty of times in her life, and for whatever reason it always seemed to be worse while standing up. Probably because when she was seated, she could grind herself against whatever she was resting on. When she stood up, all she could do was clench her thighs and try not to draw her legs too far apart from one another with each step.
Even with tiny paces across the room to where the water was placed, Elizabeth’s bladder shrieked every time it was bounced. Her urethra was burning, felt like a sharp object was being twisted around inside of it. When she reached the water, she grabbed two bottles and made her way back to her seat. She handed one of the waters to Kenneth, then opened her own.
Cringing at what she was about to do, she started to pour the liquid down her throat. Most of her body rewarded her as the dry, tight feeling in her tongue faded away. But, her bladder punished her, pulsing in time with each swallow and prompting her to bounce up and down a little where she sat. She had studied how the body worked extensively, she knew full well that there was no way the water could have gone from her mouth to her bladder in a matter of seconds, but it sure FELT like it was!
Kenneth eyed the water bottle Elizabeth had given him. It was huge! He couldn’t believe he’d already had two of these things so far! It was no wonder he’d already reached a level of need that was requiring him to cross his legs extra tightly. His opening stung, every few seconds he’d be hit with a harsh pressure right at his tip, and his thighs would tense up more in a futile attempt to quell it. No matter how hard he tried, his vision was always drawn back to the drain in the floor. It no longer looked like a drain to him, it looked like a toilet. A perfectly good toilet that he was just DYING to use!
His hopes had risen up when Elizabeth had stood, he’d thought for sure that she was about to leave. Instead, though, she’d just gone and gotten more water— Indicating that she intended to be in here for quite a while longer— AND she’d brought him some too.
And, of course, Kenneth felt thirsty. Nerve-wrackingly thirsty. He knew he was losing fluid rapidly from all his sweating— And it honestly made him kind of angry that his nonstop perspiring didn’t seem to be diverting much fluid away from his bladder— He knew he needed to drink something or else he was going to end up in a bad spot.
Kenneth opened the bottle and started to drink. He tried to pace himself a bit more than he’d done with the first two, but before he knew it he’d swallowed every last drop of it; All of it now flowing through his body. As he continually adjusted his position in a desperate attempt to find one that didn’t make it feel like his pee was about to be pumped right out of him, he could hear the way the water sloshed around inside of him. He could feel it, too. So much liquid… So much that he needed to release, and so much that was about to be added to it!
‘Don’t think about it,’ Kenneth begged himself. ‘Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it…’ His eyes kept darting over to the drain, and he found himself daydreaming about how great it was going to feel to USE it. One advantage of only wearing a robe instead of his complicated uniform was that he wouldn’t have any buttons or zippers to fumble apart before relieving himself. He’d only need to loosen the belt a bit, part the material slightly, and he’d be good to go in just a second or two.
Or, he would be if Elizabeth would just leave and give him some privacy!
Kenneth knew he shouldn’t feel frustrated with Elizabeth, but he did anyway. He hated himself for the uncontrollable feelings of irritation. Elizabeth didn’t know that he needed to pee, nor did she know he was intending to do it into the drain, so there was no way she was keeping him from his relief on purpose. She just didn’t realize how much he needed for her to leave!
But… God did he need her to! A particularly sharp pang from within, followed by a twitching, warm spasm down his length, made him reach to grab himself. He discovered another good thing about the robe, as he was able to get a very tight grip on his dick right away. In his uniform, he sometimes struggled to clutch himself as firmly as he needed to through all the stiff layers. Now though, he held himself, thumb and index finger squeezing his opening closed tightly. He shut his eyes, blocking out the taunting sight of the drain, and tried to focus all his energy on clamping himself shut, on how much better he felt now that his hand was giving his bladder some support.
Elizabeth was going red in the face and gnashing her teeth together. Her need for relief seemed to have doubled since she’d forced herself to drink that bottle of water. Despite all of her knowledge and common sense telling her it wasn’t possible, it genuinely felt like every drop of that water had materialized inside her bladder the minute she’d swallowed it. She clenched her thigh muscles with all her might, and many times had to stop herself as her hands ached to press between her legs.
She knew this was getting dangerous. Not only was she starting to fear she may have an accident, she also knew how terribly unhealthy it was to hold back immense quantities of urine for as long as she had. She just wished Kenneth would leave! He was still fidgeting, and wiping sweat off his brow every few seconds. Clearly he was getting bored of this, and the heat had ceased to be pleasant to him. She couldn’t understand why he was still in here!
Elizabeth also realized that there WAS an easy solution to her predicament; She could simply ASK Kenneth to step out for a minute. She didn’t even have to say that it was because she wanted to pee in the drain. She could claim she liked the way it felt to use a sauna naked and she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. She could say she’d forgotten something important in the dressing room and ask him to get it for her.
But, the first felt just as awkward to say out loud as “I need to pee NOW and have no choice but to go in the drain!” did. And as for the second, she had no way to guarantee Kenneth wouldn’t come back into the sauna before she’d finished relieving herself.
No. If she ended up having to tell Kenneth to get out, she was going to have to tell him the real reason. She winced, uncrossing her legs to hastily cross them back in the other direction, hoping they would act as a dam between the roaring flood within her bladder and the hole that it was trying like mad to pour out of.
She wanted to tell him. She really did! Normally, Elizabeth didn’t have that much trouble saying she had to take a bathroom break— Even to a man— Everyone peed, it was just a fact of life. No reason to get worked up over it. But, this felt different. The only reason it felt different was the fact she was planning to let her bladder’s contents flow into an inappropriate spot. She didn’t mind planting the idea of her peeing in a toilet into people’s brains, but causing someone to picture her doing it down a drain in the floor? That DID make the hairs on her arms raise up a bit.
She tried to tell herself that it STILL wasn’t such a big deal. Kenneth was with Dwight practically every moment of his life, and Elizabeth knew Dwight peed in odd places all of the time if a toilet wasn’t available. She’d heard about, or seen, Dwight relieving himself into vases or barrels lots of times. And Kenneth always seemed to just accept it as a thing Dwight did sometimes.
So, Kenneth didn’t MIND if someone peed in a weird spot, he wouldn’t complain about it. All Elizabeth had to do was tell him to go outside for a few minutes, and then nothing would be standing between her and an empty bladder, aside from needing to get the robe out of the way of her stream.
But, as hard as she tried, she just could not manage to draw the words out of her lips.
Kenneth was cursing himself for finishing that water. He was sure his bladder must have been swollen by now, full enough to cause a firm, round protrusion in his lower body. He didn’t part the robe to check, though. His hands were both too busy for that, one of them pinning his aching length against his thigh, and the other trying to dab away at the sweat that was running down his face in sheets.
The heat wasn’t relaxing at all anymore, it was only adding to his stress as it tried to convince him that he needed MORE water, even when so much of it was already slamming itself against his opening. His bladder throbbed more and more violently with each passing second. It was beginning to seriously hurt, pee was boiling and bubbling inside of him, he swore he could feel it swishing about each time he adjusted himself in his seat. It ground down against his taut sphincters so much that—
A horrendously intense spasm slammed into him, one of the worst he’d felt so far today. His breaths came in short, choppy inhales. He was trembling with the strain of holding back three enormous bottles of water, along with everything he’d had to drink that morning. He thought back to the pee he’d had moments before leaving his room, that relief seemed to have taken place years ago. So long that he could barely remember what it felt like to be empty…
He had to do something. This was an emergency, his hand squeezing away at his dick wasn’t helping as much anymore! Elizabeth needed to leave soon, or Kenneth could seriously end up hurting himself!
He had to… He had to just ask her! He had to tell her to leave… But, she’d want to know why. He would never tell her the real reason. Never ever! Not in a million years! He tried to come up with a different explanation, but his brain refused to supply him with one. All he could think about was how far beyond full his bladder felt. After so much liquid, the sensation of heaviness and pulsing that encompassed his lower half had reached a level of terrible urgency.
He tried and tried to think clearly, to come up with something that would make Elizabeth leave and grant him the privacy he was dying for, but nothing came to him. But, he had to get her to depart somehow. He had no choice. He’d drank SO much that he’d filled up to his brim alarmingly fast. His mind refused to focus on anything other than the pounding, consistently flaring organ in his center that felt with each passing second like it was about to rip itself apart.
He rocked back and forth in his seat, leaning himself against the pressure of his hand. He could feel his urethra throbbing and quivering from the immense strain it was under, so much pee rushing against it in harsh, awful waves. Against his will, a tiny whimpering squeak creaked past his clenched teeth.
Elizabeth heard the noise and looked over to Kenneth, squeezing her thighs even more tightly. The flaring pressure within her ratcheted up tremendously as she turned her body just the slightest bit. Suddenly, she felt even more swollen and close to the point of actually exploding than she had just a second ago. She brought one foot up onto the seat with her and leaned her body against it. She wanted to cup herself with her hands, but for now she hoped her foot would do well enough against the tide.
She forced herself to speak. It wasn’t easy. Her trembling jaw was clenched, her tongue stiff, and she barely managed to force out the words. “Are you okay, Kenneth?” She could hardly believe she had to go as badly as she did— It couldn’t have been more than an hour or two since she’d peed before leaving for town. Despite her efforts not to, a hand went to her crotch, and then she could feel how firm her bladder region had become. The organ was rock solid now, thrashing with rage at being made to stretch itself so far beyond a reasonable limit.
At length, Kenneth made himself turn to face Elizabeth, he could practically feel the way his urine sloshed with even that tiny motion. His pee-hole burned and stung in an utterly horrid way for a second, and then the tiniest dribble of liquid seeped through it. He bore down hard on his muscles, pink in the face and shaking with the shame of that microscopic loss of control. He had to hold it. He had to hold it. He had to. There were no other options. Keep it in. Keep it in. Keep it in. “Huh?” he asked.
“A—Are you okay?” Elizabeth managed, her gaze bouncing off Kenneth in order to stare back at the drain. Dear God, the thought of peeing into it… Or, for that matter, peeing ANYWHERE at all… It was doing something weird to her mind and body, making it feel as though it was a miracle she hadn’t just burst right there on the bench.
Kenneth turned the question over in his brain, his thoughts were so sluggish it was as though he was trying to understand something that had been said in a foreign language. He wasn’t okay, of course. He was pretty far from it. And probably the only reason Elizabeth couldn’t figure out the issue yet was because the robe concealed the current placement of his hand so well.
“I— I—“ Kenneth floundered. ‘I need to pee SO bad, Elizabeth! Please leave for a minute so I can go in the drain, please?! I know it’s gross, but there’s nowhere else and I’m going to burst!’ He wanted to say that! He wanted to SCREAM that! His bladder was BEGGING him to! “I’m… I’m fine…” he said instead, his denial prompting his bladder into a frenzy as it swelled even further and pinched against his opening with sick violence. ‘I need to go so bad…’
Elizabeth kept looking at him, he was red-faced and drenched in sweat. Overheating was something to watch out for, and… He probably needed more water… So Elizabeth was going to have to STAND UP and WALK to get it. Could she even DO that now? She didn’t think so. Unless it was walking to a spot where she could pee, she wasn’t going to risk moving around so much. “Kenneth, dear… I think you are getting too warm. You either need to drink some more, or…” she trembled, not daring to hope. “Or you can step out for a few minutes…”
Kenneth could NOT step out for a few minutes! He had to PEE before he left! He couldn’t make it to another place! He’d burst! What was the other option…? Drinking more water. No. Please. He was… He was a little thirsty, but was it dangerous, or— Ohhhh, he could barely even keep a single thought inside his head! All he understood anymore was that he had to GO right the Hell now! “I’ll… I’ll drink some…” Kenneth struggled, hating himself for agreeing to it. But, now that he’d noticed his thirst, it was making him nervous.
He dragged himself to his feet, but was unable to bring himself fully upright. His bladder, dismayed at his current decisions, flew into a fit of wild convulsions, so painful and urgent that he was unable to stop his second hand from clutching his cock. He bit back a moan, not daring to begin walking for several seconds. He just stood in place, his legs going numb from tension and his hands squeezing for all they were worth. ‘Need to… Please… It’s so bad!’ Finally, the throbbing wore off a tiny bit, enough for him to move to the other end of the room.
Elizabeth watched him clumsily make his way to the water bottles on his unsteady feet, and thought that she had likely guessed what Kenneth’s issue was correctly; He was overheated and getting dehydrated again. It had happened pretty quickly after his last drink, but she’d seen Kenneth guzzle tons of water lots of times, maybe he just dried out faster than most people did.
It was disappointing that he’d decided to just drink some fluid rather than leave the room to cool off, though. As she stared at Kenneth stumbling his way back to the bench, her bladder felt so heavy that she thought it may drag her right down through the bench, through the floor, all the way down to the center of the Earth. She rocked back and forth against her foot, occasionally palming her crotch. One of the times she did that, she felt fresh warmth and dampness, yet she hadn’t even felt the leak as it had exited her body; She was so full that it hadn’t registered past the pain. Her bladder trembled, her eyes watered, she couldn’t remember EVER needing to pee this badly.
When Kenneth collapsed back onto the bench, Elizabeth again asked him in a trembling voice if he was sure he still felt okay in here. “G—Getting t—too hot isn’t good for you, dear…” she croaked out.
Kenneth barely felt the heat anymore. He couldn’t feel much of anything beyond the clawing, horrid fullness in his middle. ‘I’m not too hot, I just need to GO!’ his mind screamed. ‘PLEASE, I can’t wait!’ He crossed his legs back and forth, shaking and shuddering and trembling from head to toe.
‘He’s having convulsions!’ Elizabeth thought, panicked. ‘He’s really dehydrated, he’s seriously overheating…’ Trying to treat a sick person when her bladder was throbbing away tyrannically wasn’t ideal, but Kenneth needed her now. She moved her hand away from her groin, being punished for the hasty action when she felt a jet of pee immediately being pumped out of her body. She took the water bottle from Kenneth and opened it up for him, “Sweetie, here… You need to drink, you’re too—“
“I can’t hold it…” Kenneth whimpered quietly. So quietly that Elizabeth didn’t hear him.
“Hm?”
He fought to repeat himself, dying from shame and by the time he managed to squeak out “I need to… I have to relieve myself,” he was in tears.
“O—Oh…” Elizabeth said, setting the bottle down now and returning her hand to its place between her legs. She crossed her legs and bounced in her place. “S—So do I,” she admitted. Her bladder throbbed its agreement, feeling as though the rock it was made out of was beginning to break apart. “I—“ her voice faltered. “I was gonna— In the drain in the floor, but—“
“So was I!” Kenneth said, feeling another sharp rush of heat down his length, followed by a single drop of pee escaping its prison. “B—But… You’re here! And I—“ He was interrupted by a harsh thudding inside his bladder that prompted him to double over. “Ohhhh, God… I can’t— You’re here, and I—“
“W—We can take turns!” Elizabeth said, heat bloomed between her legs and she adjusted the robe so she was no longer sitting on top of it and wetting it. It felt pretty damp already, but she’d saved it from any further soiling. “You can go first, and—“
“I can’t—“ Kenneth moaned, sweat gushing down his forehead as he fought for breath.
“The door locks, there aren’t windows, you—“
“That’s— I DO think I can go here, but—“ Kenneth’s hands wrenched themselves more tightly around his cock. “When— I can’t if I know someone is waiting on me to finish,” he tried to explain. Knowing another person had to go and was likely getting impatient with how long it took for him to get things flowing was way too much pressure! It always ensured that he wouldn’t pee at all!
“Oh,” Elizabeth said, a wave of pent up pee gushed onto the bench below her, dribbling against the surface before she could clamp it off. “You want me to go first, then?”
“Yessssss,” Kenneth hissed, pained. “But, hurry?” He shot to his feet, then stumbled back as his holding muscles struggled to adjust to all the movement. “Hurry,” he repeated as he took minuscule, doubled-over steps towards the door. He wrestled it open, jumping in place and making tiny choked, sobbing sounds the whole time. He was so humiliated! Elizabeth was the last one of his friends to have never seen him quite this bad off before, and now she had!
Now that Kenneth was in the changing room, Elizabeth had half a mind to ask him to dig through her pocket for her stand-to-pee device and toss it in here to her, but she decided against telling him that she had such a thing. That was something between her and Bryce, their own little secret of that unusual day they’d spent together.
There wasn’t time for her to get the device, anyway. When she stood from the bench, another warm splash pushed its way out of her and spattered onto the floor. She dragged herself the short distance to the drain, pulled the robe up a bit, and was letting out a major gusher of a stream before she’d even squatted down all the way. She didn’t look, but she knew just from the noise that she’d been missing the drain.
Once she was lowered further, she heard her pee being sucked away by the drain and figured she was mostly hitting the correct target now. After that realization came a second one; It was over. She could just… GO now. At last, Elizabeth relaxed herself fully, urine spraying out of her in uncontainable, hissing waves. She began to pant rapidly, eyes fluttering and losing focus. She moaned, and remembered that Kenneth was currently on the other side of the door, absolutely DYING to do what she was doing now.
Feeling bad for him, Elizabeth pushed down harder and her stream picked up its speed, the hiss reaching an almost ear-shattering volume as bucket after bucket of urine was forcibly ejected from her body.
Nearly a full minute later, Elizabeth was emptied. She stood quickly, and tried to ignore the jelly-like feeling in her legs so she could hurry to the door. She didn’t have time to collect herself at the end of her agonizing ordeal, Kenneth needed to be granted his own release as soon as possible.
She opened the door to find Kenneth doubled over in a pained curtsey, his feet in constant motion and his hands clutching at his front so tightly his knuckles were turning white.
Elizabeth’s heart clenched in the strangest way at the sight. Kenneth already looked so vulnerable, so in need of protection, without his uniform on. Seeing him writhe and squirm and tear up to such an extreme degree with it off made the effect even stronger.
She didn’t have much time to look at the poor man’s urgent dancing as he pushed right past her, eager to put an end to his suffering.
Kenneth fumbled the lock on the door into place and ran to the drain. Each time his foot hit the ground, it was like a mallet to his bladder, drawing out tiny dribbles. But he didn’t care. He needed to let it out NOW!
As he’d predicted, the robe made it very easy for him to free his dick, in under a second he had it aimed at the drain, so close to letting it all flow…
But, as ever, it wasn’t that simple for him.
This was, of course, not the proper place for urination to take place in. Reminding himself that Elizabeth had already peed here did not make him feel any more comfortable about doing it himself. His muscles grew more taut, rather than loosening themselves up like they were meant to.
Kenneth groaned loudly, “Come oooon!” he begged his body. “Please? I need to!”
His body didn’t listen.
Kenneth sighed. The whole point of this thing was supposed to have been to help him relax! But, clearly, it hadn’t. He still couldn’t pee! And the majority of his time here hadn’t even been that relaxing BECAUSE he’d spent it all needing to pee really bad!
He’d… He’d felt calm for a bit there though, hadn’t he?
Yes. When he’d been thinking about how Bryce might not ACTUALLY be that angry about him and Dwight being… Whatever they were. Kenneth hoped his assumptions were correct, that Bryce REALLY wouldn’t mind. Maybe Bryce would even… Protect them from other people finding out somehow. That would be nice. Then, he and Dwight could do those… those fun things more often.
Those fun things usually got Kenneth good and relaxed. He always felt so light and comfy afterwards, so tired and soothed… When Dwight made him feel good, when Dwight placed his mouth onto Kenneth’s body… All of his problems seemed to fade away, and—
Hsssssssssss…..
An incredibly clear stream began to rapidly flow out of Kenneth’s tip, hitting the drain and tearing a moan from his lips. “Ahhhhhhh….” tingles jolted up and down his entire body, making his spine shudder and his cock twitch. He could feel his bladder slowly deflating, gently shrinking back down to its proper size. He felt like he was floating, like he wasn’t inside a sauna and doing something very improper. Like he wasn’t really anywhere at all. Just, in a void somewhere that was filled with nothing but pleasure and amazingly wonderful feelings.
Kenneth’s entire body shuddered and shook as more and more pee flooded down the drain. He’d had so much to drink in here that his urine was totally clear, like he was just pissing out pure water. He kept moaning, kept gushing, his knees went weak and wobbly. By the time he was done, almost two minutes later, he could barely believe how much better everything felt.
So much better…. So much better… Ahhh… Fuck… He was in Heaven, he felt so good, so empty, so light, so… Barely aware of what he was doing, he’d begun to stroke his dick rather than tucking it back away and re-tightening the belt of the robe. Tingles of pleasure flared up and down his length, all of the nerve endings there were so raw, so much more sensitive than they normally were after being put through all that strain and all that relief…
“Hnnnh…” Kenneth panted, bleary eyed. He imagined Dwight pumping him like this, telling him how well he’d done, admitting out-loud to Elizabeth that he was going to explode and then managing to release it all here even though it had made him nervous… ‘You have earned this, Kenneth,’ he pictured Dwight saying.
Kenneth was so over-stimulated, so overcome by the wonderful feelings he’d been bathing in for the past several minutes, that before he knew it was cumming, twitching and moaning as the ecstasy pulsed through him and out of him. He just stayed there, breathing heavily for a few seconds, and then—
‘WHAT IN GOD’S NAME DID I JUST DO?!’
His eyes flashed open, and he was relieved that the majority of his semen had ended up in the drain rather than spattering the floor, but… He’d just… He’d… In a public place— Alone and with the door locked, but still!
And— And he’d done it because—
He hadn’t been thinking—
And—
It had just felt so good to finally go, he just—
No. His… His relief… It had not… It hadn’t made him do that… Thinking about that stuff with Dwight when he was calming himself down that had done it, that was it. Being pee-shy, hurting himself over and over again, the mental pain, the shame… None of those things were good. Well. Okay, maybe the ‘relief’ part pretty much always was, but that was it. Just a silver lining to an otherwise horrible condition that wrecked his life on a daily basis.
This was just… He’d gotten himself all worked up thinking about Dwight like that, gotten himself overly sensitive from pushing his muscles to the limit, and his body had just… Reacted. It was normal. It was natural. He…
He’d been ignoring this for a long time, but he’d come to notice that the feelings he got when he climaxed with Dwight in bed, or while stroking himself, were… An awful lot like the ones he got when he finally peed after holding it for extreme lengths of time. His body would feel like it was floating, every last nerve ending he had would be consumed by bliss… But, with peeing, that feeling usually lasted over two minutes, much longer than any orgasm he’d ever had.
This was gross. He shouldn’t have been comparing those two feelings. Of course peeing when he had to do so very badly felt good. It was supposed to feel good. But, was it really supposed to feel THAT good? He didn’t think so… Then again, he held in more than anyone else he knew. He’d never once seen another person just… Spray for two minutes non-stop like he did regularly. Letting go of that much would probably feel just as orgasmic to someone else if they ever did it, it didn’t mean there was anything NEW wrong with Kenneth. It was just the same old thing; His body made him hold way too much pee for way too long.
He’d gotten carried away from his imagination and extreme levels of relief today. That was all. It didn’t mean that there was suddenly an aspect to his problem that he enjoyed way, WAY too much. Peeing was not supposed to feel like cumming. For a normal person, a person without Kenneth’s awful condition, the two things weren’t comparable.
He retied the robe and left the sauna. Elizabeth was no longer in the changing room, which was good. Kenneth needed more time to calm himself down before he allowed someone else to see him. He got dressed quickly, and hoped his face wasn’t too red as he went out into the hallway.
Elizabeth was waiting for him right there. She leaned into him, “Do you feel better now?” she whispered.
Kenneth nodded, almost imperceptibly. His bladder felt better, that was for sure. But, inside he felt all sorts of mixed up. His body regularly forced him to hold his pee for so long that releasing it felt like an extremely long orgasm. And while he certainly wasn’t going to bemoan a two minute long orgasm, it sort of just… It freaked him out. It was surely not normal. Probably not very healthy, either. |
They had been invited to a special party at The Leader’s villa, attended by all sorts of important figures. Kenneth’s anxiety was sky-high, he really didn’t want to make a bad impression on anyone, and he never really enjoyed parties to begin with. Too many people all trying to talk to him about stuff he knew nothing about, usually lots of alcohol smells bringing him back to places he didn’t like to go.
He ended up mostly standing off in a corner through the beginning of the party, scolding himself for feeling so uncomfortable just because of a particular SMELL. That was such a pathetic thing to be getting upset over. He didn’t understand why it affected him the way it did, just because this room had the same odor that always clung to his Father, that didn’t mean the man had suddenly sprung back to life. It was dumb for him to feel so on edge right now, but he did anyway.
He felt even sillier when he started to worry that other people were noticing that he didn’t have a drink in his hand. What if The Leader, or someone else important, thought he was being rude for not partaking in it? ‘I doubt anybody is even paying attention to that,’ Kenneth told himself, but the nervousness lingered. At one point, he even approached a table to grab one of the beverages he saw other people taking, but his hand had gone stony and still as he suddenly envisioned himself becoming his Father after only one sip. He pictured himself unable to get out of bed without the aid of liquor, hurting everyone around him, passing out randomly and waking up with no memory of what he’d been doing, day after day.
‘You drank that stuff accidentally once before,’ Kenneth reminded himself. ‘And that didn’t happen.’ Still, he couldn’t bring himself to take the drink. It didn’t even look like a drink to him, it looked like a serum designed to turn him into someone he would hate and fear, even faster than the angry demon that lived inside his head could.
Still, he felt so awkward… He reached for a water instead, gulping it down in spite of the fact he didn’t even feel his psychosomatic, anxious-thirst. He jumped when he felt a hand touch his shoulder, spinning around.
Karl.
Why the Hell had Karl been invited here? Kenneth didn’t have time to ponder that before the other man was speaking, “Ah, Paulson,” he said. Kenneth was just about to remind him of the warning he’d given following their last encounter, when Karl continued; “First person here tonight that I recognize.”
“And?” Kenneth asked. It was clear that Karl had been drinking, and that he’d had a lot more than just water. He was swaying on his feet, sort of like what he’d been doing during their holding contest, but much slower.
“I’m spending tonight at the inn,” Karl explained. “An’, I’m probably gonna need someone to help me get there if I keep drinking like this.”
He… Had to be kidding, surely? He wanted a fucking favor?! He was asking someone whom HATED him for a favor, just so he could get extra drunk tonight? “Are you serious?” Kenneth said, dryly. Ideas flashed through his brain, of walking an intoxicated Karl far, FAR away from civilization and just ditching him there. Maybe he’d get captured by an enemy if Kenneth took him far enough out, or he could be mugged, or eaten by a pack of lions that somehow flew here all the way from Africa.
Or, at least, Kenneth could be satisfied in knowing he’d gotten the guy badly lost while he was in a state of mind that would make it extra hard to find his way.
“Yes,” Karl nodded. “Haven’t had time off like this in a month, want to enjoy it as much as I can.”
Idiot. He was a freaking idiot. Kenneth had no interest in getting this guy back to the inn safely. He wouldn’t even feel bad if Karl got lost or hurt trying to navigate in the dark while drunk off his ass. “No,” Kenneth said. “Absolutely not. Ask somebody else.”
“But, you’re the best with directions.”
This much WAS true, Kenneth could mentally map out any town after only exploring it once, and had learned to use the positions of the stars in the night sky to navigate through the woods in the dark. But, a person didn’t need to be particularly skilled to find the inn from here, it wasn’t that far. And he REALLY didn’t understand why the Hell Karl was complimenting him. “So? Other people can walk you there. Or, you could choose not to drink so much that you need help.”
Karl paused, taking a sip from his glass. “You and Smith,” he stated, and Kenneth’s blood was running cold before the other man even finished his sentence. “You seem very, VERY close…”
The world around Kenneth seemed to get a lot louder as he became way too aware of how many people were near him. “We… Are best friends.”
“Are you now?” Karl asked. “Is that why I see you both go into the bathroom together so often?”
Fuck. Kenneth had been terrified of this, he’d been worried that someone would see THAT and somehow piece together the rest. His mind spun, and he remembered what Dwight had said when he’d expressed this concern to him. “We both just have to go at the same time a lot,” he shrugged stiffly.
“But, you go into ones with only ONE toilet together,” Karl said. “I’ve noticed it. And I’ve heard it, those noises you make. That’s not what the two of you are doing in there.”
Noises…? Kenneth was confused. The only noise he would be making while Dwight helped him piss would be the sound of his stream splashing out, right? And how could someone mistake the hiss of pee hitting porcelain for anything else? He chose to focus on the first half of Karl’s statement instead; “Sometimes we both REALLY have to go and can’t wait on each other,” he stammered. He was blushing, he knew he was. Talking about not being able to hold his pee was still a far superior option than explaining the truth and, by extension, telling Karl about his shy-bladder AND giving him a hint that he was actually right about Kenneth and Dwight’s relationship.
“Th—That’s all it is,” Kenneth continued. “We have to drink so much water, you know? A—And we can’t hold it forever. If there’s only one toilet, we’ll just go together because it’s an emergency. It feels really weird and awkward, of course, but when you need to go, you need to go!” He was rambling and he knew it, words spraying from his mouth uncontrollably, adding far more detail than could ever be necessary.
“Then, what the Hell is with all the moaning?” Karl asked.
Moaning?! Who was— Kenneth felt blood draining from his face as a black hole of embarrassment opened up below his feet. He didn’t… Did he? Peeing definitely felt really good to him— A little TOO good, as he’d realized lately. But, did it really make him MOAN without even noticing? God, no! Please! That was humiliating! Making loud, perverse sounds while he pissed!? He’d never— Karl was lying, Kenneth would never, EVER—
But, apparently he MUST have… And he MUST have been doing it super, SUPER loudly if Karl had been able to overhear it at some point, because Kenneth could never release his bladder if HE could hear that someone was close near the door.
And Karl thought he was making those noises for a different reason, a dangerous reason. He had to bite the bullet and tell the truth; That he apparently made ridiculous, mortifying sounds while he emptied his bladder. “I… Um…” heat returned to his face as he tried to speak. “I… If I really, REALLY needed to go, sometimes when I finally… Do it…I make those sounds.” The anxiety in his chest felt like a lead weight, and he took a few more nervous sips from his water glass in an attempt to soothe it away.
Karl’s lip twitched into a smile, and then he was laughing. “You moan like you’re being sucked off whenever you take a piss? Really?”
God… Were his moans really THAT intense? They— They honestly may have been… There were times Kenneth had been so desperate that letting go actually DID feel as good as Dwight’s lips around his dick… That couldn’t have been normal. Peeing wasn’t supposed to feel like that.
“Y—Yes, I—“ he scrunched his eyes closed, stomped a foot against the floor out of pure agitation. A new anxiety was blooming within him, how many OTHER people had heard him moan like… like THAT just from pissing? How loud did he get? How far did those humiliating noises travel? And everybody probably assumed, like Karl did, that he was moaning from a different sort of pleasure. Anyone who accidentally overheard Kenneth vocalize his relief probably thought he was touching himself in a public space! And if they’d seen Dwight going into the restroom with him before hearing those noises… “I— I don’t mean to sound like that,” he finished lamely. “I didn’t even realize…”
“Pfft,” Karl snorted.
Rage joined the nervousness in Kenneth’s chest. How dare this scum laugh at him for something he couldn’t help— For something he hadn’t even noticed he’d been doing!? He worked hard, focused all his energy on transforming his mortification into arrogance. “And— And— Um… Of course it feels that good, if you could hold it as long as I can, you’d make those sounds too!”
Karl’s laughter ceased, his expression becoming harsh and stormy. Kenneth knew straight away that he’d struck a nerve. “Okay, so I’LL believe you really are just pissing in there,” he said icily. “But, what if I were to tell other people the things I’ve seen and heard? What if I go around and tell everyone I know that you two go into the bathroom together and then a few minutes later I hear you panting and gasping like that? What do you suppose they’d think?”
Kenneth’s tongue went dry, shakily he had a few more sips of water. Relationships between the guards were utterly forbidden, and the penalty was far, FAR worse if those guards were the same sex. If Karl told a bunch of people, there would be tons of eyes on Kenneth and Dwight all the time, everything they did would be scrutinized, everything they said to each other… They WOULD be found out if enough people started to pay close attention. Their lives would be in ruins before long.
And the thing that would have set that ball rolling WOULDN’T have been the two of them getting carried away, not being careful enough. No, it would ultimately be the fault of Kenneth’s stupid fucking pissing problem. It would be ALL Kenneth’s fault if the dots were connected and Dwight got hurt by it. Entirely the fault of Kenneth and his uncooperative, disobedient body that couldn’t work right.
“Nothing to say?” Karl gathered after a few seconds. “Well, I won’t say a word to anyone, don’t worry. You just have to do this one, little favor for me that REALLY won’t take much out of you. All you have to do is walk me back to the inn at the end of the night, and I’ll forget all about everything I’ve seen and heard. That’s not so much, is it?”
Kenneth shook his head, “I—It’s not…” he admitted. He just had to endure walking beside a person he hated while said person was intoxicated and smelling just like his Father. He only had to put up with that for thirty minutes or so, and then it would be over. And they were both staying at the inn anyway, both going to the same place. Everything would be okay.
He just had to be… Alone with someone who hated him and had a history of extreme cruelty towards those he disliked.
“W—Why does it have to be JUST me, though? Dwight doesn’t drink, either. He’d be—“
“Ah, you want me to be alone with him?” Karl interrupted.
No. That was the last thing Kenneth would ever want. “I meant that we could both do it. A—And Bryce too, all three of us.” Yes. Both Dwight and Bryce. Two people who were stronger than Kenneth was, just in case something were to—
“I don’t think I need three people walking me,” Karl said.
Maybe so, but Kenneth needed to not be alone with this man. “I— I would really feel more comfortable if—“
Karl rolled his eyes, “Alright, FINE.” His annoyance was palpable, but Kenneth didn’t care. Going anywhere alone with Karl would be a terrible decision.
“G—Good,” Kenneth said. “Let me go get them and we can—“
“Oh no, I’m not ready to leave yet,” Karl said. “I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”
Kenneth gave a tiny nod. He’d been ready to leave for a while, ever since the moment Karl had shown up. He wasn’t comfortable. He really, really wasn’t comfortable…
Some of that discomfort, he now realized, was coming from his bladder. The big glass of water he’d anxiously consumed hadn’t been the best thing for him. He tensed his thighs up and walked away, trying to put the urge out of his mind. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to go here. The restroom was in constant use, there had been a line for it all evening. Lines made him so nervous, the idea of someone waiting for him to pee and wondering why the Hell it was taking him so long. And… So many people out here that would hear if he accidentally moaned like he apparently did… He couldn’t even ask Dwight for assistance, because it would definitely be noticed if they went in together and now he KNEW for a fact that it didn’t look right.
He couldn’t pee here. So, he had to do his best to pretend that he didn’t NEED to pee and hope that it would go away.
It didn’t.
Half an hour later and Kenneth was crossing his legs as he stood off to one side, the annoying tingles running down his length were beginning to feel warm and electric. His hand had found its way to his mouth and he was chewing hard on his knuckles.
Not long after he began to gnaw on his fingers, Dwight emerged from the crowd to stand beside him, placing a gentle hand to his shoulder. Dwight lowered his voice, “Um… There’s still a line for the restroom,” he pointed out. “I don’t know if—“
“I can’t,” Kenneth shook his head. “There’s no way.”
Dwight nodded. He didn’t prod his friend, didn’t try to coax him into ‘trying’. From the looks of it, that line was going to take at least half an hour to get through, after which Kenneth would be unlikely to achieve the relief he needed. Dwight could get Kenneth back to the inn within the same amount of time, where it was basically GUARANTEED he’d be able to pee.
Dwight had been getting bored anyway… “Want to head back for the night?”
“No,” Kenneth said miserably as it hit him that he had NO idea how much longer he was going to have to keep holding this in. “We can’t.”
“We ca—“
“We need to walk Karl back to the inn with us,” Kenneth explained. “He ordered me to, because he wants to drink more.”
“And you agreed?”
“I HAD to, or else he was going to…” Kenneth lowered his voice. “He was going to tell people to… To, um, keep an eye on… Us… And—“
Dwight sucked in a sharp breath, “How does he know—“
“He doesn’t KNOW,” Kenneth promised. “But, he’s seen us do things that made him suspicious… The… Uh… The peeing thing. He’s seen us go in together and then he says he heard me… Dwight, um, do I… Moan a lot when I pee?”
Dwight fell silent. He didn’t know how to respond. “I… It depends on what you mean by ‘a lot’…”
“Oh my God…” Kenneth winced.
“Don’t… Don’t be embarrassed, it’s… I like the noises you make,” Dwight stammered. ‘Fuck, why would I say that?!’ he asked himself. “I— I like to hear them, lets me know I helped you!”
Kenneth didn’t appear to be feeling any better about it.
“Well… That’s ALL Karl has seen, right?” Dwight asked.
“Yes, that’s all he mentioned, and… He believed me when I said that I was just… Peeing. But, then he said he’s going to ask other people to… Watch us closely if I didn’t walk him home. And I made him agree to let you and Bryce join us because I don’t want to be alone with him.”
“I understand,” Dwight said. Looked like Kenneth hadn’t been given much of a choice here. “I’ll go ask Karl if he’s ready to go yet.”
Kenneth nodded. He really hoped that Karl was getting bored, or tired. Kenneth shimmied his hips as he pressed his back into the wall behind him. His eyes kept sliding towards the long line for the toilet. As he watched the people squirming as they waited for it, he seethed with jealousy as he kept squirming in his corner. Sure, they all had to wait until it was their turn to go, but at least when their turn arrived they’d be able to make use of it!
Kenneth badly wished he could just take his place at the end of the line, hold it there for only a little bit longer and know that relief was coming just as soon as the people ahead of him had finished. That sounded so simple. So easy. The folks in that line, even the ones whom were really fidgeting, didn’t realize how lucky they were. They may have to go badly now, but their bodies weren’t going to disobey them later.
Kenneth forced himself to look away, he tried to pretend that there wasn’t actually a toilet here because, as far as his bladder was concerned, that toilet really didn’t exist. There was nowhere here that he could pee, so he needed to stop thinking about how much he had to.
Dwight returned, looking apologetic. “Karl says he doesn’t want to leave yet… Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Kenneth promised, tightening his hands around the bottom of his shirt. “I just need… Distract me, okay? I can’t stop thinking about it and it’s getting worse.”
“Okay,” Dwight said. He thought back to the day he’d been here and the toilet hadn’t been working, he thought about how Kenneth had taken him outside so that he could water a bush. Would that work better for Kenneth right now? “Let’s go outside for a minute, alright?”
Kenneth nodded. Being away from all the alcohol smells that reminded him of Father would hopefully make him feel at least a tiny bit less nervousness. He knew his anxiety was adding to the pressure inside his bladder.
One step outside, and Dwight knew that this WASN’T going to solve Kenneth’s problem. He’d been convinced that the garden would be devoid of other people, but instead it was just as crowded as the inside had been.
He looked back towards his friend and, from the disappointment on his face, he knew Kenneth had suspected the real reason Dwight took him out here and had gotten his hopes up too high. He also noticed that Kenneth’s hands had inched closer to his crotch in the time it had taken them to reach the outdoors.
Dwight said nothing about the crowd, made no mention of the foiled plan that they’d both secretly been counting on. “S—So, you need distraction?”
“Y—Yes… I— Shit, I hate Karl. If it wasn’t for his dumb ass I could be…’Going’ right now.”
“Don’t think about ‘going’, Kenneth,” Dwight said gently. “Think about… Um… Think about how funny it would be if Karl got so drunk that we could ditch him out in the middle of nowhere without him realizing until it’s too late.”
Kenneth smiled, but it quickly turned into a grimace when a bolt of need flared through his middle. It felt like his bladder was being held underneath a massive, gushing faucet; waves of liquid being dumped into it with each second. He shifted from side to side, but it wasn’t helping. If anything, all the foot-hopping he couldn’t help was just making it worse, shaking his bladder and knocking it in every direction. “Hnnh, but then he’d… Tell.”
“I know…” Dwight sighed. His eyes hadn’t left his friend; his squirming had gotten more pronounced since when they’d been inside. If Kenneth was dancing around like this in such a populated area, he must have REALLY not been able to control it… “Think we could just… Go back to the inn really fast and come back here after you’re, uh, ‘feeling better’?”
Kenneth shook his head frantically, strands of his blond hair flying out of place. “What if Karl decides he wants to leave while we are gone? And he gets so angry that—“
“Okay, okay,” Dwight interrupted with a frown. Something needed to be done, he hated seeing the person he cared about most of all so unhappy. “Perhaps The Leader will allow you to use his private facilities?”
Kenneth flinched. The Leader was very particular about keeping the personal areas of the villa personal. Kenneth had never even seen the rooms in which the man actually LIVED, only the guest rooms, and the rooms used for official business and parties like this one. He pictured himself asking The Leader— The most powerful man in the country, the most important person he KNEW— for a piss break. He pictured himself EXPLAINING to the Leader why the bathroom everyone ELSE was using wouldn’t work for him. “I can’t… I don’t— He doesn’t let people—“
“We can just ask…” Dwight said. “The worst he can say is no.”
“But… He can’t know about my problem… Please? Not him, that will be like telling the entire country!” Kenneth’s whimpering was cut off by a revolting harsh spasm that made him feel like his bladder was having sharp arrows shot into it. He tensed his thighs, gripped onto his hip with one hand and stomped a foot against the ground with a gasp. “Ah—!”
“We don’t have to tell him that!” Dwight said. “Just… We can say you really need to go and the line is too long!”
Kenneth didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, his bladder was screaming so loud that he couldn’t get a word in. But, the look on his face was clear in its meaning; “That’s not much better!”
“We can say we BOTH really need to go and the line is too long,” Dwight amended. “Less embarrassing if you aren’t alone, right?”
“Ohhh, I guess…” Kenneth managed. “Can… Um… Can we find him fast, though?”
“As fast as we can,” Dwight promised. He took one of Kenneth’s wrists, trying not to pay attention to how close his friend was to grasping his crotch now. He was obviously fighting tooth and nail not to begin holding himself, but his bladder was BEGGING him to give it that extra support.
They went back inside. Against his will, Kenneth was staring in the direction of the restroom again. The line was even longer now. It would take forever to wait through it, jiggling and bouncing and crossing his legs until he couldn’t feel his feet… Then, he’d finally have his turn to use it, stand there miserably for a few minutes and leave with his bladder more irritated and bloated than ever. He heard the toilet flush, saw a man exit with a relieved look on his face, and he wanted to scream just from the unfairness of it all. Kenneth knew he had to go way worse than that man could have needed it, yet HE was the one that had been able to empty out so freely and easily!
Kenneth just HAD to hope that they found The Leader fast, and that the man would allow him to use a nice, private toilet. He HAD to allow it! He HAD to! Kenneth would explode otherwise! “Wha—What if he says no?” Kenneth asked in a soft panic.
“Ummmm….” Dwight reddened, “Well… Uh, remember the first day we met him? How I… Uh, couldn’t find the bathroom and got the carpet wet?”
Kenneth nodded. He could never forget that. He’d had to spring in front of his friend and babble at the top of his voice about nonsense as he waved his arms all over the place to try and shield Dwight from some of the embarrassment! In time, Dwight had felt less humiliated by it and was willing to make jokes with Kenneth about the incident.
“Well… I could remind him about that… Tell him how I can’t wait very long. I doubt he wants a puddle on the floor again.”
Kenneth was touched that Dwight was willing to remind The Leader, of ALL people, about what was doubtlessly one of the most embarrassing days of his entire life, just to help him feel a little more comfortable.
“Heh,” Dwight smiled. “I mean, I doubt he’s forgotten about it either… The stain’s probably still there.”
“Heheh— Oooh,” Kenneth’s laughter was cut short by a sensation which he would liken to that of a knife being jabbed straight into his piss-hole. They were trying to traverse a much more crowded area now, and Kenneth was getting knocked around, his bladder being jostled and squeezed in ways that were absolutely torturous.
“Sorry…” Dwight winced at his friend’s clear pain, trying to push his way through the crowd. The issue was he had no clue where The Leader would be right now. When he had celebrations like this, he usually did a big speech at some point during the night and Dwight knew he’d be able to find him perfectly easily then… But, he didn’t know how much longer it would be until that speech.
What he DID know was that Kenneth would probably tear out his spleen if he then interrupted The Leader’s speech to announce that Kenneth’s bladder was close to rupturing and that he needed the toilet right the Hell now.
Waiting until the speech wasn’t a good plan.
Before Dwight could consider where to search first, someone was approaching them; Karl. Dwight’s first thought was— almost— relief. Was Karl ready to go now? “H—Hello, Karl,” Dwight said. “Want to leave?”
“No,” Karl answered automatically. “Holding hands, I see?”
Dwight quickly dropped Kenneth’s wrist and shoved his hand into his pocket. Kenneth stuffed his newly freed hand into his mouth and bit down hard.
The good news was that Kenneth’s weird behavior seemed to make Karl forget about the hand-holding. The bad news was that he chose to call attention to it, “Why the Hell do you do that?”
“Hm?”
“You gnaw on your own freaking hands,” Karl said. “Why?”
Kenneth spat his hand out. He tried to stop his squirming as well, but he couldn’t do that. “Just… Nervous…” Now that he wasn’t chewing his knuckles, his urge to grab his dick and squeeze down tight was worsening.
“What have you got to be nervous about?”
“Nothing… Can we leave soon?” Kenneth asked.
Karl shook his head, “Nope. I’m having fun. Aren’t you?”
Kenneth was having the exact opposite of fun. All of his energy needed to go towards controlling one specific, exhausted ring of muscles. He had none left for ‘fun’. “I’m… Tired…” he said.
“You’re moving around an awful lot for somebody who’s tired,” Karl noted. He watched as Kenneth swayed and struggled to keep himself from doubling over. “You have too much to drink?”
YES. Kenneth had had WAY too much to drink! His bladder couldn’t fit all of it! And now he was being too obvious about—
“You still need to walk me home, you know?” Karl reminded.
Oh. Right. THAT kind of ‘too much to drink’. The kind of ‘too much to drink’ that Kenneth DIDN’T routinely fall victim to. “N—No, I didn’t drink too much. I just… Want to leave.”
“Yeah,” Dwight faked a yawn. “It is getting very late, Karl. We should go.”
“We leave when I say we leave,” Karl said. “Unless you want me to tell—“
“Alright, alright!” Dwight scrambled out. “Uh, c—come on, Kenneth…” And they resumed their search.
They didn’t find The Leader, but they found Bryce resting tiredly against a wall. “There you two are,” he said. “I was just about to—“
“Karl says we need to walk him home,” Dwight interrupted. “And that we can’t leave until he’s ready.”
“What?” Bryce was going slightly pale. “Paulson, I thought you got him to—“
“I—“ Kenneth’s knees rubbed together, his hands pinned between them as they strained to move up towards his crotch. “I thought I did, too… But, now he’s…Um… Kind of blackmailing me, sort of.”
“Blackmailing you? With what?”
Kenneth and Dwight exchanged nervous glances. “W—We can’t say,” Dwight told him. “But…” he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Kenneth REALLY needs to—“
“Yeah, I can tell,” Bryce interrupted, much to Kenneth’s embarrassment. “Can’t go here, though?”
Dwight shook his head. “We are trying to find The Leader, maybe he will allow Kenneth to go somewhere more private. Have you seen him?”
“I’m afraid not,” Bryce said. “I could help you look, though.”
So, that was what they did. The three of them searched all areas of the villa that were open to the public tonight, but they couldn’t find the one person they were looking for. Kenneth grew more and more anxious and desperate the longer the search went on. He wished he could just find SOMEWHERE that wasn’t teeming with other people! If he could just find a vacant hallway with a conveniently placed potted plant, he thought that maybe THAT would be enough for him! But, every last nook and cranny was full of eyes and ears that would bear witness to Kenneth’s gushing stream, so he knew there wasn’t anywhere he would actually be able to release it!
At some point, his bladder had finally succeeded in forcing Kenneth to grab himself. And, once he’d done it, he couldn’t let go. One hand wrapped tightly around his length while the other tried to pinch and squeeze his opening closed. He was hurting himself, but trying to stop these actions felt even worse!
After a while, they ran into Karl again. Breathlessly, Kenneth asked if he was ready to leave. His poor bladder had been ready to leave for what felt like years…
Karl shook his head. He appeared to be pretty inebriated now, enough so that Kenneth reasoned he really DID need an escort to the inn. He was swaying and slurring his words, bumping into people without noticing… Kenneth was again struck by how much Karl reminded him of his Father. He hoped alcohol did not effect Karl the same way it did his Father, turning a generally cruel person into someone downright monstrous…
“Please?” Kenneth begged, aware of how pathetic he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. He’d been here so long! He’d been HOLDING IT so long! “I’m… Really, really tired.”
Karl looked Kenneth over. Kenneth did not appear the least bit sleepy. It looked like he had more energy than he knew what to do with, every bit of him was wriggling… “Looks more like you need to piss.”
Kenneth went quiet.
“Looks like you need to piss really bad,” Karl emphasized. “What’s the matter? Can someone not make it through the line?”
“I… Um… I…”
“He does need to go,” Dwight cut in, ignoring the sharp look his friend shot him. “But… Come on, look at that line over there! We could be at the inn in HALF the time it’d take Kenneth to wait through that whole thing!”
“Well,” Karl shrugged. “I’m not leaving yet. So, he may as well get in line instead of dancing around like a toddler.”
“But…” Kenneth’s ears burned. WHY did Dwight have to CONFIRM that he had to go!? Now he couldn’t refuse to go to the restroom without Karl asking why— Without having to TELL Karl why! He was STUCK. “I…”
Dwight turned to Kenneth. He’d honestly thought that his argument— that it would be quicker to go back now than deal with the line for the toilet— would have some sway in Karl’s mind. Apparently not. “C—Come on, Kenneth…” he said finally, about to lead Kenneth off.
“Why don’t you just go fucking piss?” Karl asked. “Obvious that you gotta. And I know how much you like doing it…” he started to snort with laughter.
Kenneth had never felt so humiliated. “I—“
“God, just go,” Karl said. “You’re making me have an accident just looking at you.”
Utterly ashamed, Kenneth pushed his way towards the line for the toilet, just to shut Karl up, just to avoid having to… Having to tell him what the real problem was. Maybe he’d actually pee when his turn came. He knew that he had a better chance of winning the lottery and then being struck by lightning three times all in the same day than he did of emptying his bladder out in there. But, perhaps he could manage to get just a TINY bit of his pee to come out, just enough to take the edge off so that he could wait until Karl said they could leave in relative comfort.
Kenneth’s condition NOW was no doubt obvious as Hell. He was twisting his hips, stomping his feet, digging his hands into his groin… All while standing at the end of a massive line for the toilet. It was clear as day that he was bursting at the seams, that the level of piss in his body probably outweighed the amount of blood he had. To his dismay, he found he didn’t even care that much if people were looking at his desperate dancing. He didn’t care if they saw him squirming as he waited for the toilet, that was an understandable thing to do after all.
No, what he cared about was the likelihood that he would soon LEAVE that restroom squirming just as much. Because THAT wasn’t an understandable thing to do. Anyone who saw him exit with his hands still kneading against his crotch would think something was seriously wrong with him.
BECAUSE something was seriously wrong with him.
No. No. He was thinking too negatively. He needed to stop ASSUMING that he wouldn’t go, even if everything in him was screaming that this was the case. He had to tell himself that he COULD pee here. Maybe if he repeated that thought to himself enough times, it would convince his body that it was true.
‘I’m going to pee,’ Kenneth thought. ‘As soon as my turn comes, I’m going to lock the door, lift the seat, pull down my zipper and just GO. Just like I would in my own room. I won’t even have to think about it. I’ll just see I’m at the toilet, and then I’ll pee. I’m going to pee. I’m going to pee.’
His attempts to banish his spiraling self-doubt and anxiety did nothing to quell the nervous tide inside his chest. It did a whole Hell of a lot to his bladder, though. Each time he mentally chanted ‘I’m going to pee!’ his bladder pulsated and a scorching fire would ignite down his length and blaze around his piss-hole. Finally, he had to make himself stop. It was doing much more harm than it was good.
Without noticing it, he’d begun to whine in the back of his throat. He had no idea he was doing it— much less that he was doing it loudly— until the person ahead of him turned around. He recognized one of The Leader’s servants that he’d seen a few times. “Oh, go ahead of me!” she said. “You need it way more than I do!”
Kenneth tried to look grateful, but internally now all he could think about was how she was going to be stuck waiting as he tried— and most likely failed— to piss.
After hearing that woman let him cut, a few more people stared at Kenneth. He squirmed under their gaze from a lot more than desperation, and winced as a couple of them ALSO allowed him to cut.
If he was normal, he would have been appreciative of this. If he was normal, all this gesture would mean would be that he’d be peeing a lot sooner.
But, he wasn’t normal, and having strangers put his needs before their own only made him feel more awkward, more embarrassed, more nervous about what was going to happen when he inevitably froze up in there.
His turn came eventually, and he tried to remember the mental pep-talk he’d been giving himself before his bladder had gotten too excited by it. Just like he’d told himself he would, he locked the door, lifted the seat on the toilet and unzipped himself. With trembling hands, he pulled out his member and aimed it.
Unlike in his earlier fantasy though, he didn’t just go. Of course he didn’t just go. He could never just go. And he did think about it. He thought about it a whole lot. He thought about the people waiting on him, and the crowd that existed beyond the door. So many people who would hear the hiss of his stream as well as— he now realized— the uncontrollable moans that were probably going to pour from his mouth.
His bladder flared, angry and urgent, as he stared at the toilet. ‘Pleaaaaase,’ he begged it. ‘I want to gooooo! It’s all I want! Please! I’ll do anything!” He’d peed into this toilet a few times before, when he’d visited the Leader and there WASN’T a big party going on outside. He told himself that since he’d relieved himself here in the past, that meant he should be able to do it again regardless of what was happening beyond the door.
But, he couldn’t. His bladder just grew more taut, his body becoming engulfed in cold sweat as he gritted his teeth, squeezed down hard on his muscles and BEGGED for just the teeniest smidge of relief. Just a drop! Just one drop would feel wonderful! Please, please, please! Don’t wanna hold it anymore!
He was shaking so bad that he couldn’t aim right anymore. His knees were sore. Everything felt so heavy… He pulled down his pants, lowered the seat and collapsed on the bowl, hoping he might have SOME luck getting it out while sitting down. He leaned forwards, his bladder being crushed beneath his own weight, but nothing splashed forth. Not even a pitiful, little dribble of a stream. His piss was just as trapped as he was, unable to break free until stupid Karl decided it was time for them to leave.
And then what? He’d have to walk all the way back to the inn. The walk lasted thirty minutes typically. But, Karl would be intoxicated and moving slower. Kenneth would be dragging a two ton boulder of piss and moving slower. It would take FOREVER to reach the inn now. And once he was there, he’d have to get up to his room— The stairs would be impossible, and the elevator was still so faulty there so it may end up getting stuck. Either way, getting up to the next floor would be HELL. Next, he’d have to unlock the door to his room, get to the toilet, unzip… He’d die. He’d actually fucking DIE before he managed all that.
And it could all be avoided if he could just freaking PISS right where he was sitting NOW. There was NO god damned reason that he couldn’t pee right this very second! None at all! He was on a toilet! His pants were down! Nothing standing between him and relief but his own stupid fucking body!
“Please…” Kenneth whimpered out loud now. “Please, I need to… I need to so bad…” He realized he was crying and furiously brushed the tears away.
When he heard the knock on the door, he sniffed hard, pulled up his pants, flushed even though he hadn’t let go of a drop. The sound of the water running down the pipes made him shudder. He knew he ought to wash his hands since he HAD touched the toilet seat, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn the faucet on, much less stick his hands underneath the water. He just left, stumbled through the crowd in a daze. At one point, someone accidentally smacked him right in the bladder, and he thought for sure he was about to flood himself right there— At that point he thought he may have WELCOMED it if it meant the pain would go away. But, of course, he didn’t go. It all stayed in, where it continued to torment him.
He found Dwight and Bryce again. Didn’t bother trying to greet them. He couldn’t move his hands away from his dick to wave at them anyway.
Dwight whispered, “Did you… Get anything out?”
Kenneth shook his head, tearing up again. He’d gotten NOTHING out. He was still bloated, still overflowing, still so desperate he could barely breathe. “D—Did Karl say he wants to leave while I was gone?” he managed, not even daring to hope.
“No…” Dwight said. “I’m sorry…”
Bryce saw the tears in Kenneth’s eyes and tried not to look. He couldn’t handle seeing Kenneth cry. It was like watching someone pull the wings off of a butterfly. “Paulson… Um… It is getting very late. The Leader’s speech should be soon, I think. We’ll know where to find him then. He likes you, he will probably let you go… You don’t even have to say why. Smith and I, we’ll both pretend we really need to go as well so you are less embarrassed.”
Wow. Bryce was going to tell The Leader that he needed the toilet… He never would have thought Bryce would tell The Leader that if he was ACTUALLY about to piss himself, but here he was offering to do it just to make Kenneth feel better… “Th—Thank you… I—“
He was interrupted when Karl returned.
“Do you want to leave yet!?” Kenneth rushed out, breathless. Everything else was forgotten as he thought about how maybe if they left RIGHT NOW he could get back to the inn without literally fucking drowning in his own piss.
“No,” Karl shook his head. “I thought I told you to go take a fucking piss.”
Something in Kenneth snapped then. Strong-armed into doing a favor for someone he couldn’t fucking stand, put through hours of physical torment, his brain ceased to function and he just… “I tried, I couldn’t.”
…Blurted it out.
Everyone stared at Kenneth for a second, and then it hit him what he’d just said. He’d spoken it aloud. He’d named the problem. He’d told Karl.
Karl was the first to speak; “You don’t have to go that bad, then.”
“I— I—“
“He does!” Dwight said, still believing Karl must have had at least some humanity inside him somewhere. He was supposed to care about the health of his subordinates. “But… He’s got a medical condition.”
“You all keep saying he’s got a ‘medical condition’,” Karl mocked. “But, you won’t ever say what it is.”
“He can’t pee around other people,” Dwight said.
Karl laughed, “Sure he can. If he can’t, he just must not have to go very much.”
Bryce looked at Karl; The man whom had tormented him since childhood. The man whom had made his life Hell for weeks on end, breaking down his body with nonstop drills. Then, he looked at Kenneth; The man whom annoyed the living fuck out of him a lot of the time. The man whom played stupid jokes on him and yelled too much about dumb things… The man whom had subjected himself to a full bladder for most of a day, then debased himself by pretending to beg, to make Karl stop picking on Bryce.
There was… A feeling then. A weird feeling. A confusing feeling. And Bryce didn’t “DO” feelings. He had no idea what it was, but it made him REALLY want Karl to just allow Kenneth to go find the privacy he needed so that Kenneth could be his usual comfortable, irritating self again. “Karl, LOOK at him. He needs to go.”
“Then, he should just go,” Karl rolled his eyes. “There’s a bathroom. He’s an adult. He knows how to use one.”
“I TRIED!” Kenneth snapped through his gritted teeth.
“Not hard enough,” Karl said. “Jesus. You’re so embarrassing. Why does Bryce put up with this? A grown fucking adult that can’t even piss. Get the Hell over it and stop disgracing all of us.”
Urgency, shame and rage all fought for control of Kenneth’s brain. Karl thought… What, did he think he was CHOOSING to do this to himself?! Did Karl think he just ENJOYED holding his bladder until everything hurt so badly that he just wanted to scream?! “I— I can’t—“
“You can. Go use the god damned toilet.”
“I FREAKING TRIED! I CAN’T GO THERE!” Kenneth shouted. He knew people were probably looking now, and he didn’t care. He didn’t care. He didn’t give a fuck. He just wanted this to stop. He wanted it to be over. The insults, the pain, the hurt, the sheer lack of any semblance of control.
“Then just sit in the corner until you piss yourself. I don’t care. When you need to go badly enough, it will come out. You’re acting like a child.”
“Karl,” Dwight said. “He has a medical condition. He cannot help it. This is like screaming at someone with a broken leg to ‘just run’.”
“Can we please just leave?” Kenneth asked. “I can’t…I can’t take it anymore.”
“No,” Karl barked. “Your inability to pee does not mean that I have to leave early. You don’t have the right to ruin other people’s evenings, you’re just selfish.”
“I’m not, I just— It HURTS—“
“No adult should have so much trouble pissing, and you shouldn’t punish me for your issue. You’re just using this as an excuse to leave when you want to.”
“It’s not an excuse!” Bryce said. “I— I didn’t understand it at first, either. But, it’s this real, physical thing, and—“
“It’s on HIM to figure this out, he can’t expect to be coddled. He can either piss here, or he can hold it. Those are the options. Maybe just don’t go out if you don’t know how to pee.”
‘Don’t know how to pee,’ Bryce replayed those words, as well as every time HE’D said them to Kenneth before he’d understood how uncontrollable his problem really was… “Kenneth,” he said. “Let’s—“
“No,” Kenneth said dully, brokenly. “Forget it. I’ll hold it. I can’t go, so I just have to— I’ll hold it.”
“You’re really not okay, you have to—“
“Just leave it!” Kenneth snapped. “Karl is right. I’m being ridiculous. I should— If I can’t pee, then I need to hold it.” He leaned back hard against the wall, slumped down until he was sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest and his hands squeezing his cock so tight his fingers were going numb.
Dwight crouched down beside him, “Kenneth,” he whispered. “Don’t listen to—“
“Don’t coddle me,” Kenneth mumbled. “I need to learn how to deal with this.”
“But, Kenneth—“
“Don’t.”
Dwight sighed. He scooted closer to his friend, put a hand to his very tense shoulder. He wanted to tell him that it was okay, but nothing was okay…
Twenty minutes later, Kenneth’s tears were streaming down his face as he gnashed his teeth. His bladder no longer felt full, it felt like something else entirely. It felt like it had partway through the day where he’d gotten locked in solitary confinement. Only this time he had to endure that awful feeling surrounded by hoards of people. Many of them would look over to his side of the room, stare at him for a second, clearly wondering what the fuck was wrong, what was causing a guard like him to cry so much. He wasn’t sure if any of them could tell that it involved a need to piss. The constant heaving, spasming and shuddering ripping through him could easily just mix in with the sobbing.
There was a sudden hush over the room, and Kenneth looked down, thinking maybe he’d finally exploded and everyone was now staring in shock as a flood gushed between his legs. He wasn’t peeing, though… God, how he wished he was…
The cause of the silence was the entrance of The Leader. Beside Kenneth, Dwight sighed with relief. “We can ask him now,” he whispered sharply. “As soon as he’s done talking, we can—“
Karl spun around to face them, “Hm, no. You know what? I want to leave now?”
“But, The Leader is about to speak,” Bryce pointed out.
“And I am exhausted,” Karl said. “Let’s go.”
Kenneth didn’t even react when his hope for relief was taken away yet again. He’d accepted that he was never going to pee. He was just going to keep getting fuller and fuller for the rest of his life. He was just going to retain every last drop of liquid his body produced, until one day he became so swollen with piss that he could never move again. Because he couldn’t control himself. Because he wasn’t normal.
Dwight gently helped Kenneth up, and Kenneth leaned hard against him for support. Bryce stood behind him and tried to keep him steady. “We’ll be back at the inn really fast, Paulson…” he whispered. He realized he was much closer than he’d intended to get when he noticed his breath hit Kenneth’s hair a little… He didn’t make any move to step back, though.
They exited the villa a few minutes later, but their departure barely registered to Kenneth. He was delirious, unable to tell where he was anymore. Dimly, he recalled how Karl had praised his sense of direction. He recalled how he himself had naively thought that he would ALWAYS be able to use his skills to find his way.
Now, he knew that when his bladder was full enough, even being surrounded by street signs in a very familiar town wouldn’t be enough to ensure he could get to where he was headed. That was okay though, Bryce was leading them. Bryce knew the way too. Kenneth just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. ‘Left, right… It huuuuuurts. Left, right… I need to gooooo. Left, right… Please, just make it stoooop.’
It wouldn’t stop though, he just trudged along half-blind, leaning on Dwight, through a never-ending march of ever-increasing pain and misery. “I have to go…” he whimpered out after fifteen minutes of walking, not realizing that he’d said it out loud.
“Shhh…” Dwight said. “I know… Almost there.”
They weren’t though. They still had a lot of ground left to cover. Ten minutes later, Kenneth’s first leak escaped. Rather than dismay, he felt overjoyed as the spurt of piss warmed his boxers. Something had come out, finally. He even pushed down, trying to prompt another leak— Trying to prompt a total accident because he didn’t care about anything anymore except for making the pain end. But, nothing else would dribble out. Just that one taste of relief, that was all he was allowed to have.
Another ten minutes, and Kenneth had removed one hand from his dick to wrap it tightly around Dwight’s arm. He was squeezing it so hard that tears were springing to Dwight’s eyes, but he didn’t ask Kenneth to stop. If trying to break his friend’s humerus made him feel better, then he could do it as much as he wanted to.
Another ten minutes, and they were finally at the inn. Kenneth teared up more then, now with happiness and disbelief that he was nearly at the end of the torture. Just as he’d done in line hours ago, he couldn’t stop thinking ‘I’m going to pee, I’m going to pee, I’m going to pee!’ But this time, he knew he really WAS.
His bladder got ahead of him, and a little dribble snaked its way out. He now felt more determined to hold back since he was so close to a toilet, so he tightened his grip on his cock, releasing Dwight’s arm so he would have two hands to do it with.
Dwight exhaled a breath of relief, rubbing at his tender arm. Damn, Kenneth got STRONG when he had to piss…
Bryce pushed open the door and the others followed him inside. Karl patted down his pockets, “Fuuuck, don’t have my key,” he said.
“Look harder,” Dwight said briskly, already trying to think of how best to get Kenneth upstairs. The elevator got stuck more often than it functioned, so that was out. Maybe Dwight could just… Pick him up and carry him to the next floor, so he wouldn’t have to climb the stairs himself. That could work. That could—
“Go ask for a new one for me,” Karl said.
“Ask yourself,” Bryce told him.
“You are capable of—“
“FINE!” Bryce snapped. He was done arguing. Argument after argument was not helping Kenneth. And… Fuck, Bryce actually REALLY wanted to help Kenneth right now. He stormed down the hall to speak with the employees.
“Oh, and can you ask them for a spare towel, too?” Karl requested.
Dwight sighed, but had similar thoughts to Bryce. Arguing accomplished nothing right now.
Suddenly, Kenneth was alone with Karl. It took several seconds for his desperate, piss-filled brain to realize that, and by the time it did, it was too late to run after his friends.
Karl had slammed him against the wall beside the front door. Hard. Hard enough to drag out a little spurt of pee. Kenneth squirmed from side to side from WAY more than desperation. The day his Father had died, Kenneth had made a promise to himself that he’d never let anybody put their hands on him in this way again. He’d promised himself that he’d never be anyone’s victim. He promised himself he’d fight back.
But, Karl was so much bigger than he was. So much stronger. And Kenneth’s need for a piss made fighting even harder. All he could do was flail and yell “Get your hands off of me! NOW!” He shouted it loudly, so loudly that he thought for sure Dwight and Bryce would hear no matter how far down the hall they’d gotten. “N—“
One of Karl’s hands went over Kenneth’s mouth and his shouts grew muffled. “Shut the fuck up…” he growled. “Your shrieking is like nails on a chalkboard. Shut up, or it’s going to be a lot worse.”
Kenneth had no idea what ‘it’ was going to be. When Father pinned him down like this, it usually meant a lot of punches to his face were coming. Was that happening again? He could… He could survive that.
Karl let go of Kenneth’s mouth, kept that hand affixing him to the wall. Then, he released the grip on Kenneth’s other shoulder, brought the hand down and rammed it hard into Kenneth’s abdomen, pushing it into the round, distended curve of his overflowing bladder.
In spite of the warnings, Kenneth was yelling again. He’d tried not to, but he couldn’t stop the screams. “SHITSHITSHITSHIT! FUCKFUCK! NO! HOLYFUCK! STOP!” The pain was beyond anything he’d ever felt before, and his brain couldn’t even process it. Often, when Kenneth was in a lot of pain, he would recall other, worse agonies he’d survived and the present situation wouldn’t feel as bad anymore.
That wasn’t possible now. This was worse than any other desperation he’d ever felt by miles. The scorching heat flared through his length, pulsed out across his abdomen beneath Karl’s heavy hand that just kept digging in deeper and deeper, then it ignited in several explosions up and down his back.
This was worse than any pain he’d ever felt, period. This beat the day he got mauled by wasps to get honey for Dwight out of what he THOUGHT was a beehive. This beat the time his Father tied him by the ankle to his bicycle and then rode it through the field of thorny bushes behind their house. This was even worse than the day his Father shot him in the leg with an actual, literal gun. Karl’s hand mashing into his bladder created a full-body experience of pain that made Kenneth scream until he ran out of voice.
Twisting wormed through his entire body, pressure thrashing madly, the world spun, Kenneth couldn’t tell which way was up anymore. He felt dizzy, sick, full and—
“Aww, there we go! That’s what we need to see! And you said you couldn’t piss in front of people!” Karl said.
All of that had happened in the blink of an eye, though it had felt like hours to Kenneth. Dwight and Bryce had run back from where they’d been and were shouting, but Kenneth couldn’t make out what they were saying. People were streaming into the inn, but Kenneth didn’t recognize any of them.
Just, suddenly, Karl’s hand wasn’t on his bladder anymore and he was dropped on the floor… And he was voiding his bladder. Uncontrollably. He was pissing hard, the hiss of his stream darkening his uniform and the ground beneath him sounded implausibly loud.
He felt zero relief. In fact, he continued to feel the same unfathomable pain he’d been suffering all night. The piss burned on its way out, and his bladder kept sort of contracting in on itself, he felt like it was BRUISED or something, constantly pulsing with a tender ache. His back felt like it was broken into two hundred pieces, and everything was still spinning, and now Karl was shouting too, and Kenneth just… It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it—
Even more people started to stream in just as Kenneth, still pissing wildly as he lay crumpled on the floor, started to heave. His chest went in and out, his throat constricted and lurched, and a strange fluid was ejected from his mouth and down his shirt.
The people walking in and up to their rooms were staring at him, and then it finally registered to him that he was full-blown fucking pissing himself in public. All these people were LOOKING at him as he peed. And not even into a toilet, into his CLOTHES. He heaved again, but nothing more came up.
“What’s his problem?” he heard a voice ask.
“Too much to drink,” someone responded. “Gonna be feeling that in the morning.”
“No, I was here earlier, that other guy was pinning him…”
“I think he pissed himself, too.”
“He’s still going…”
“I’ve never seen anyone pee so much, is he okay?”
“Aw, poor thing…”
Shakily, he pinched one of his arms, certain that this must have been a nightmare. It HAD to be, so many of his fears had come true today. The worst possible person had suspicions about him and Dwight. He’d peed with a massive audience— He’d had an ACCIDENT with a massive audience. This couldn’t have been real, it just couldn’t have—
But, he didn’t wake up.
He wasn’t asleep.
The last of his piss finally seeped out, his urethra still stung and pulsed like it was trying to force out more. His bladder still quivered. His… His everything still hurt.
The crowd of people that had walked through the door had dispersed up to the second floor to their rooms. Only Bryce, Dwight and Karl were still here with him. Kenneth wanted to cry, but he couldn’t make the tears come anymore. He wanted to stand up, run upstairs to his room and then never, ever come out, but he couldn’t move. He was in such a state of shock, of pain, that he couldn’t do anything.
A split second later, the world shifted again. Dwight— Kenneth’s usually placid friend, the person whom would talk others down from their anger and suggest try to solve things as peacefully as possible— charged Karl. He launched himself at the bigger man, knocking him to the ground and punching him around the head so hard and fast that his fists blurred. He was screaming, snarling. “GOD DAMMIT! DON’T YOU EVER PUT YOUR HANDS ON HIM AGAIN! IF I EVER SEE YOU IN THE SAME FUCKING ROOM AS HIM, I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!”
Bryce grabbed hold of one of Dwight’s arms as he swung it back for another punch, pulled him away, “Dwight, Dwight, we’re going to get in troub—“
“I DON’T CARE!” Dwight shouted. “You saw what he did! You fucking SAW, you—“
“I saw. So did a lot of those people who just walked through here,” Bryce said. “And what we are going to do is tell The Leader.”
Dwight tried to calm himself down. Bryce was right. They had witnesses; People with no relation to any of them whom had seen Karl assaulting Kenneth and making him pee himself. Discipline would come for Karl after this.
Karl groggily stood up, “You punch like a child,” he informed, heading for the stairs.
Dwight didn’t care what Karl said to him. He only cared about Kenneth now. He rushed to his friend’s side. “Shhh…” he soothed, even though Kenneth wasn’t sobbing as he’d expected him to be. “Are you okay?” He cursed himself for asking it a moment later. What a stupid question. This right here today, this was the worst thing that could possibly happen to Kenneth.
Kenneth shook his head. “Everything… I don’t feel right, Dwight.”
“Let me help you up…” Dwight said, hooking one of Kenneth’s arms around his own.
Bryce came around Kenneth’s other side. “It’s okay,” he said, even though it really wasn’t. “You need to sleep now. You will feel better tomorrow.” He didn’t actually believe that statement very much, either. “And we’re going to tell The Leader about Karl. I doubt we will see him anymore after that.”
“It… Hurts…” Kenneth managed.
“You need rest,” Dwight said, hoping that really was all Kenneth needed. He didn’t know what that stuff Kenneth had coughed out was. It didn’t look like he’d just thrown up, that wasn’t it…
They made it up to the room Kenneth shared with Dwight. Bryce was about to depart for his own room, when Kenneth made a whimpering noise.
Dwight flinched. He’d rarely seen Kenneth be… non-verbal. He talked all the time, he shouted all the time. He made a ton of noise. These half-formed sentences and tiny sounds were so unlike him that they scared Dwight. “I… Uh… I think he wants you to stay, Bryce. Is that it, Kenneth?”
Kenneth nodded.
“O—Okay…” Bryce said, shutting the door and coming closer. “I won’t leave.”
“Let’s… Get you cleaned up,” Dwight said, escorting Kenneth into the restroom. Kenneth sat down on the toilet as Dwight removed his soaked clothes for him. It felt like undressing a rag-doll. Kenneth was entirely limp, just going through the motions. Dwight got him into dry boxers and his pajamas. “Th… There you go,” he said. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Kenneth. That shouldn’t have happened. You didn’t deserve it.”
“My fault,” Kenneth stated softly.
Dwight had never heard Kenneth talk so quietly before. It sent a chill down his spine. “No,” he disagreed. “Karl’s fault. He’s the one that made you stay there for so long. He’s the one that squeezed you until…”
“My fault,” Kenneth repeated. “My problem. My fault.”
“Kenneth, no…” Dwight insisted. “You know that. If your problem is anybody’s fault, it’s your Father’s. Not yours.”
Kenneth didn’t respond.
“Let’s go to sleep, okay? I’ll… Hold you all night.”
“Bryce…”
Dwight paused. That WAS true. Bryce was still here… Here to see them both get into the same bed. “Maybe he’ll understand, since you’re so shaken up? He’ll know I’m just trying to make you feel bett—“
Kenneth shook his head. “No. Bryce TOO.”
Oh.
“Well… I could… I could see if he wants to spend the night here. That’s what you want?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Dwight said. “We’ll both hold you tonight if that helps you feel better.” He looked away for a second. “Just… So long as THIS is only for me…” he leaned forward and kissed Kenneth on the cheek.
“Of course,” Kenneth said. “Love you…”
“Love you, too…” Dwight said. “You’re the only person I’d ever beat someone up over.”
That got a small smile, “Should do it again.”
“I think Bryce is right and we should tell The Leader instead,” Dwight told him.
On the other side of the door, Bryce’s mind was buzzing. A memory from early in the night, one that he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten given it set this entire disaster in motion, played.
Karl had been ‘blackmailing’ Kenneth to do something he wanted. Both he and Dwight had acted very oddly when asked WHAT he was being blackmailed with.
And then…
“Love you.”
“Love you, too…”
Snapshot after snapshot of things he’d seen those two do together flashed through his mind’s eye. All the hand-holding, the cuddling, how they could finish each other’s sentences, Kenneth worrying himself LITERALLY sick when Dwight was hurt…
Relationships between guards were forbidden. If those guards were of the same sex, the penalties were far greater. Bryce was supposed to report such things to his superiors.
But, he didn’t want to.
At all.
The thought of reporting it made him feel sick.
The thought of letting it continue made him feel… Something else. Something that made the idea of holding onto Kenneth tonight sound less like a chore or obligation, and more like… Something he wanted to do a really fucking good job of.
He didn’t understand it, but suddenly the image of all three of them cozied up together was the most appealing thing in the universe to him.
He wasn’t going to tell anybody that, though.
Dwight and Bryce both got changed for bed and laid down on either side of Kenneth, Kenneth immediately rolled against Dwight and pressed his face into his chest. Dwight put an arm around him, and Bryce followed suit. Bryce thought he should have felt stranger doing this with two people who drove him crazy ninety nine percent of the time, but he didn’t. When Kenneth started to tremble, obviously still horribly upset, Bryce rubbed his back, “The Leader is going to kick Karl’s ass after he finds out tomorrow,” he whispered.
“Yes,” Dwight murmured, “Everything will be better tomorrow. I’m sorry this had to happen tonight.”
“Still hurts…” Kenneth mumbled.
“Get some rest,” Dwight said. “It will all be okay.”
***
If you didn't see, there is now a physical version of this story for sale: https://www.lulu.com/shop/thesecret-omoaccount/guard/paperback/product-mn2p6p.html?page=1&pageSize=4 |
I apologize for how long story updates have been taking, I've been working on the printed volumes, as well as preparing my fics for Omovember (during which you'll be getting one update a day, so I hope that makes up for it. )
***
The next morning, Dwight woke and groggily looked to his side, finding Kenneth wriggling next to him, hands pressed into his crotch, whimpering softly with obvious need. “Kenneth, you know you can get me up if you have to…” Dwight stopped, realizing his friend was somehow sleeping through what was clearly a catastrophic emergency.
He thought for a moment, trying to decide how best to get the other to wake up. Kenneth was a heavy sleeper once he finally managed to put himself to bed, but Dwight still didn’t want to nudge him around TOO harshly for fear it might prompt a spill from his bladder. Dwight grabbed Kenneth’s shoulder and squeezed down on it, “You have to get up now,” he said gently. “Looks like you need to go.”
Kenneth’s eyes fluttered open, then widened as a small squeak fell from his lips, “Ah—!” He sat up, but cringed and went slightly pale a second later, indicating to Dwight that the sudden movement had probably just resulted in a bit of leakage. Kenneth was shaking, his body knotted with fierce tension. His head whipped from side to side as he recalled his current surroundings, then bit down hard on his lip. “Dwight, I need—“
“I know…” Dwight said. “Don’t worry. Can you stand by yourself?”
Kenneth blushed hard, both at Dwight’s clear concern and at how good it honestly made him feel to be taken care of like this. When he tried to get to his feet and instead immediately froze and tightened his grip on himself as a squirt of liquid pumped itself free, he blushed even more as he shook his head, admitting that he COULDN’T get up on his own right now. He looked to his other side. “Where’s—“
“Bryce said he was going to get up early to find a witness to… Last night. He’s probably out doing that.”
So. That was it then. Kenneth’s last bastion of hope that yesterday had merely been the single worst nightmare of his life was gone. It had happened. It had really happened. He’d pissed in full view of a ton of people. He’d pissed HIS PANTS in full view of a ton of people. Tears pricked at the backs of his eyes. “I… I… Yesterday…”
“Not your fault,” Dwight assured. “Let me help you up…”
Kenneth let Dwight take his hand and assist him to his feet. The tears DID fall then, but they were caused purely by pain. A really sharp throb in his back that flared down and around to his groin and bladder region. “Shhhhiiiit…” he winced.
“What’s wrong?” Dwight asked, worried. Had he… Had he not made it for the second time in a row? No, he looked dry…
“It hurts, Dwight. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!”
“You… Just need to go,” Dwight said. “Come on…” He walked Kenneth to the restroom as fast as he could manage it, and was relieved when he saw his friend immediately unbutton his pajamas and aim. He’d been sort of scared that the trauma of yesterday would cause Kenneth to choose to hold it whenever he had to pee. Dwight took his place behind Kenneth and rubbed his shoulders gently, “I’m here, it’s just us, my darling…” he murmured.
Somehow ‘MY darling’ sounded even better to Kenneth’s ears than just plain ‘darling’ did, immediately clearing away some of the mental hurt from the previous day.
But… The physical hurt…
Hssss….
“OUCH! SHIT!” Kenneth shouted, jolting hard when his stream burst forth and made him feel like thorns and gunpowder were being passed through his most sensitive spot. The pain didn’t fade away the more he pissed, it just got stronger and stronger, and he continued to make loud exclamations of agony.
“What’s wrong, what’s wrong?!” Dwight asked in a panic. He looked at the urine pulsing from Kenneth’s tip warily. ‘Please be normal, please be normal…’ To his utmost relief, Kenneth’s pee was pale yellow, just like it was supposed to be. No hint of pink or— thank God— red.
Kenneth’s stream ceased, and with it, some of the pain ebbed away. His urethra still stung and flared, but not as bad as it had been when he was actually peeing. He was breathing heavily, “Dwight, that… It really hurt.”
“I could tell… What’s—“
“It burned and stung.”
“You might have an infection again,” Dwight said gently. “We’ll get you medicine, just like the last times—“
“It’s not just that this time,” Kenneth said. “In my back… Um, you know how if I hold too long, I have pain there?”
“Yes…?”
“I’ve had that feeling constantly ever since… Ever since Karl did that yesterday. And it hurts around where my bladder is, like a bruise. And, my… Um… My…” he lowered his voice a great deal, even though he and Dwight were the only two around. “There’s… A lot of pain in my… In my penis…”
Dwight winced. Sounded like Kenneth’s entire lower half was suffering. Some of it was the same stuff he had when he got a urinary tract infection, but the rest of it… What could they do? It was a long train-ride back to where Elizabeth and the other people who usually took care of Kenneth’s medical needs were. The Leader, of course, had his own team of doctors right here in town. Dwight didn’t know if he could take Kenneth to see them, though. Maybe after the… Incident was explained to him, he’d know medical attention was needed right away?
“Can you get dressed on your own?”
“I think so,” Kenneth said. He tried to remove his shirt, but gave a sharp hiss as something pulled wrong in his back. “Ahh, nope!”
“Okay, I’ll get it…” Dwight said.
Twenty minutes later, Kenneth was dressed for the day… And jiggling up and down with his hands between his legs.
That was deeply unusual. Infections made him have to go more frequently, but NEVER this often! Dwight’s chest clenched as it became more and more apparent that Kenneth may have MORE wrong with him this time than just a UTI. “You need to go again,” he stated.
Kenneth nodded nervously. “I really don’t want to…”
“You REALLY need to though,” Dwight said.
“I know…”
Once more, they were back in the restroom, Dwight doing the same thing he always did, helping Kenneth calm down and pee. It was taking longer than usual this time though, especially for an environment where they really WERE both alone and secluded. Dwight realized Kenneth was DELIBERATELY holding it back now, fearful of the pain letting go would ignite. “Kenneth, you have to…”
“It hurts…”
“I know it does,” Dwight said. “I can’t imagine having something… Burning really bad THERE, but this will probably get worse if you DON’T let yourself pee.”
Kenneth whimpered harshly, then his stream anxiously trickled forth. He was groaning and stomping his feet into the floor. His piss was coming out much slower than usual, Dwight wasn’t sure if that was an effect of whatever was wrong with him, or if he just couldn’t bring himself to let it all go at once even if it would bring an end to his suffering sooner.
Ten seconds later, Kenneth wasn’t going anymore.
“That all of it?” Dwight asked.
Kenneth nodded tearfully.
“You sure?”
“That’s all!” Kenneth exclaimed, upset. “I can’t go anymore! I’m out!”
“Okay, okay…” Dwight said. “Easy now…” He HAD just pissed twenty minutes ago, of course there wasn’t two minutes worth of fluid backed up in him like there usually was.
They left their room a few minutes later, bumping into Bryce and a woman in the hall. “Hello,” Bryce said, gesturing to the woman. “This is Rebecca. She saw what Karl did yesterday and is going to come with us to have it handled.”
Kenneth didn’t dare to look Rebecca in the eye. She’d… Seen it. Seen ALL of it…
“Hello,” Dwight said. “Thank you for helping. Karl REALLY hurt my friend yesterday.”
“I know,” Rebecca said, and she sounded nice and kind, but Kenneth still couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t acknowledge that she existed. Couldn’t acknowledge that ANYTHING about yesterday existed. “Is he doing better now?”
“He’s… Upset,” Dwight explained. “Understandably.” He didn’t add how scared he was for Kenneth’s current PHYSICAL health.
***
After being granted access to the villa and going through the process of requesting an audience with The Leader, the four waited. Kenneth did so with his knees bouncing. In the half hour walk here, he’d managed to get extremely desperate for a piss. Dread filled his chest as he tried not to let it show. If he did, Dwight would tell him to go…
But, Kenneth could NEVER hide his need from Dwight. Dwight had spent YEARS becoming incredibly in-tune to all of Kenneth’s tells. There were times Dwight noticed Kenneth had to piss when Kenneth was too caught up in something to notice it himself. “I’m sorry…” Dwight said softly as he took Kenneth to the same restroom he’d failed to use last night.
Two minutes of coaxing and fifteen seconds of stinging, fiery agony then followed.
The meeting with The Leader went well, everything about Karl’s behavior was laid out, Rebecca backed up the events of the previous night just in case the bruises on his face from Dwight punching him were used in an attempt at a defense. The Leader was thoroughly angered, he’d enjoyed Kenneth’s company during the occasions they’d met in the past and having him injured by someone whom was SUPPOSED to be part of his team was beyond unacceptable. Karl was to be discharged, they wouldn’t need to deal with him again.
But, that still left the matter of Kenneth’s actual injury. For the first time, Kenneth was invited into the private areas of the villa for an examination. The nurse, Miriam was very concerned once Kenneth had finally managed to mumble out a list of his symptoms. “Is there blood in your urine?” she asked him.
He shook his head.
“That’s good…” Miriam said. “Now, I’m going to need to check something, and it probably won’t feel very good. Try to stay still.”
Kenneth didn’t like the sound of that, but before he could react the nurse was running a hand over his bladder region. He flinched hard, memories of the awful pain he’d endured last night under Karl’s touch flooding back into him. The nurse wasn’t SQUEEZING him like Karl had, just gently palpating the skin there, but it still hurt. It still hurt really badly. After only a few seconds, Kenneth couldn’t take it anymore and begged her to stop. He was starting to need to pee again, too, and the tapping hadn’t been helping him.
“Have you had UTIs in the past?” she asked, before instructing him to put a thermometer into his mouth.
Kenneth nodded.
“I’m sorry, I think you may have another,” Miriam said, removing the thermometer from beneath Kenneth’s tongue. She looked at it, and knit her brow. “The back pains you are describing, are they sort of to the side, near your ribs?”
“Yes,” Kenneth said. “Right in here…” he gently pointed to the area that was causing him the most trouble.
“You also have a very high fever,” Miriam said. “To be honest, I’m surprised you are able to hold a conversation with me.”
It was a struggle to do that. Kenneth felt dazed and dizzy, and he just wanted the room to stop spinning. “This isn’t how I normally feel with a UTI,” he said.
“I think the ones you had in the past were more mild.”
Mild!? Nothing about those things had been mild! All the fire and prickling every time he had to piss…
“What you are describing is kidney pain. Is this your first time experiencing that feeling?”
“No, it happens a lot if I… Um… Need to… If I have to… Void really badly.”
Miriam only looked more concerned. “Um… That’s… How often do you hold it like that?”
Kenneth looked away. “I… I have to… Every day, almost.”
“No,” Miriam shook her head. “You don’t. I know some of you take your jobs very seriously and do not leave your posts, but if you need to go that badly you should relieve yourself WHILE at it.”
“I… Can’t do that,” Kenneth said.
“Do you need me to write a letter to your supervisor? Explaining that you NEED to be permitted to—“
“No, that’s— Ugh— I’m— I’m BROKEN, okay?” Kenneth snapped. He was so sick of this. Sick of having to explain it. Sick of having to DEAL with it. Sick of… Of making himself SICK over it!
“You’re—“
“My brain doesn’t work,” Kenneth said. “My head is broken. I have so many freaking things wrong with me in there, so many things that I can’t even take a god damned piss like a normal human being.”
“I don’t understand… You should lay down. Your fever is—“
“It’s not the stupid fever,” Kenneth insisted. “It’s everything! I can’t do the most simple thing in the world— I can’t PISS! Babies can piss without even thinking about it! But, not me! I need to go through a whole freaking ritual to be able to do it— A RITUAL. I need to have my friend hold me in this one, specific way. Need him to rub my back and shoulders like a masseuse would, or something. Need him to whisper all this crap into my ear. All so that I can take a FREAKING PISS. How ridiculous is that? You ever hear anything so stupid before in your—“
“SLOW DOWN,” Miriam interrupted. “Please. Are you okay? Take some deep breaths, try to sleep, or—“
“No, I’m not okay,” Kenneth said. “I’m never gonna BE okay. I’m angry at everything, I’m too sensitive, I’m weak… And I can’t even piss. What about any of that is okay?”
“Explain,” Miriam said. “Why can’t you urinate?”
“Oh, why can’t I? Ask my Father, dig him up and ask him what he did to me. And, while you’re at it, ask WHY, because I sure as Hell never got an answer!” Kenneth was just… Rambling, just shouting, barely aware that Miriam was a human being anymore. She was just a sounding board, the thing that had had the misfortune of being there when Kenneth decided he couldn’t put up with ANY of this anymore.
Miriam was trying to keep a level head, Kenneth was making zero sense. And he was more or less SCREAMING now, but she couldn’t help him get well if she didn’t know what was happening. “SIT DOWN,” she ordered, voice firm. “Sit down and breathe!”
Kenneth sat on the bed, tried to catch his breath. When his breathing evened out, Miriam tried again. “Now, please… Slowly, tell me what all is going on. Why can’t you urinate?”
“It… It started when I was seven, I think,” Kenneth said. “After my Father shot my Mother.”
Miriam froze after hearing that.
This was going to be way more serious than she’d expected.
“Father would sometimes point a gun at one of us, pretend he was going to shoot so we’d get scared. The gun was always unloaded. Except, not this night. I heard lots of screaming in my parents’ room. Father was doing the thing with the gun again… But, this time there was a bullet. I’m not sure if he KNEW there was a bullet in there or not. If he… If he meant to do it, or if it was an accident. But… He did it. He killed her. And, right away, he was coming up with this plan. He was going to lie to everybody that a robber broke into the house, and that he tried to fight the guy off, but he couldn’t, and that was how Mother got shot.
“Everyone actually believed that. And they thought my Father was a hero. They respected him a lot thanks to his lie, they all felt bad for him. But, I’d seen it all. I’d seen what happened. And he didn’t want me to tell… So, as soon as he’d finished cleaning the blood off the floor that night, he… Wanted to make sure I couldn’t tell anybody. He had this box in his closet, really tiny. And he put me in there, locked it. I was small, but there still wasn’t enough room in there for me to turn around. He just… Locked me up. And put the box back into the closet, shut the door. I was screaming a lot, and I think once the door was shut he could barely hear it anymore.
“He’d open the box once each morning, to give me a glass of water. Sometimes he’d open it to put out his cigarettes on my feet, or to pour boiling water on me. But, mostly he just left me in there. I couldn’t get out… It was so dark, so tiny… And, I’d pee myself in there. Over and over. Because he never let me out, and I couldn’t hold it. He’d lose it every time he opened the box and found me soaked, smelled all the piss… He’d beat me hard then, then wash me off in the bathtub, except he’d keep dunking my head under the water for so long, I kept thinking I was gonna die.
“He only had me in the box for a week after Mother died, but after that things were different. Father had always been mean, but now there wasn’t anyone around to stop him. And he’d just literally gotten away with murder— Been seen as a HERO for it, too!— So, now he was super brazen about everything, knew he lived in a world without consequences. Since I kept peeing myself in the box, he said I needed to be taught how to… Control myself.
“So, he just… Wouldn’t let me pee. I had to ask him for permission, he’d say no most of the time. Some days he’d make me drink big jugs of water and then hold them all in, but I never could. He’d also hit me if I crossed my legs or, um… Grabbed at myself… there. I had to stay still and hold it, then he’d beat me when I ended up going on the floor.
“Other times, he’d give in. He’d say I could go use the toilet, except he said he couldn’t ‘trust me’ alone in there, so he’d come with me. He’d stand behind me and just… Yell, and pull my hair, and scream at me to hurry up. ‘Do you think I am standing here for my health? What is wrong with you? I thought you said you had to piss!’ And, he’d scare me so much that I wouldn’t be able to, even when I really needed it. Then, he’d beat me again for taking so long, and I’d finally wet myself then, so he’d get even angrier.
“A few times, I actually managed to go with him there, but he’d be angry anyway because he said I didn’t go ‘enough’, that I could have held it way longer and that it had been a waste of time to bring me there to pee. So, he’d hit me, and yell and scream about how I needed to learn to hold it, that peeing meant I was disgusting and weak.
“And… And then… Weird things started happening with my body. I had a strategy where I’d wait for Father to pass out and then go use the toilet when he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it— Sometimes he locked the door so I couldn’t do that, but other times it was open and I could… Except, I couldn’t. I’d get there, and I’d just… Hear him. He wasn’t there, but it felt like he was. It felt like he was yelling and sneering at me, and I would take SO long to start peeing. And, each day it seemed to get worse, the amount of time I’d stand there waiting for it to come out would get longer and longer, and there would always be this painful knotted feeling in my chest every time I tried to go… Until one day, I couldn’t do it at all. I stood there for half an hour I think, feeling really uncomfortable, but I couldn’t just… Relax and go. At all. I felt so scared, I didn’t understand what was wrong with me. Just that I had to… Do this thing so badly, but something in me wouldn’t let it happen.
“I couldn’t do it anymore, I went back to the hall closet— That was where Father made me sleep, and I just sat there crying. I felt like I was going to die, I even tried just wetting myself there on the floor, but I couldn’t do that either. I didn’t realize how loud I was crying until the door was flung open and Father was screaming at me to shut the Hell up, because he couldn’t stand the sound of my voice. He demanded to know what was wrong with me, and I told him that I couldn’t pee and that it hurt and was scary. I don’t know why I told him, I knew he wouldn’t help me. And he didn’t. He just laughed at me, called me pathetic and told me to shut up again. Said he’d slit my throat if I didn’t stay quiet.
“I tried to stop crying then. I couldn’t, but I managed to do it a lot softer and he went back to sleep. I… Um… I found a bottle he had dropped on the floor, and… Uh… I have always liked the beach. I’ve never been but… Father’s house was so cold most of the time. The beach was so warm, and far away from him, he wouldn’t find me there. I could stay there and be warm and safe and okay… I always tried to imagine the beach when I was hurt back then. So, I tried to… You know… Into the bottle, while pretending that I was laying in the sand next to the ocean, and the sun was beating down on me, and the waves were all crashing, and eventually I, um… I felt better…
“But, then Father found the bottle the next day when he dragged me out of the closet. He could tell what I’d done by the smell, and he… Made me… He made me… Drink it. And it wasn’t even the first time he’d made me drink… my own… Um… Pee. But, this time he taunted me the entire time I was doing it. He kept calling me disgusting, said I was vile since I couldn’t just hold it, that if he ever finds out I pissed somewhere without permission again, he would kill me.
“And after that, the… The problem I had with making myself go got even worse. I’d have to do all sorts of things to get it to come out. I’d hold my breath until I was delirious. I’d tap my fingers against my bladder, sometimes I… I actually prayed. Down on my knees and everything, asking God to make it stop hurting… I’m not even really religious, but I ended up doing that anyway… None of it worked fast, sometimes when I finally had a chance to pee, it would take over an hour of nonstop effort. By the time I was eight years old, I couldn’t pee normally at all anymore.
“But, I… Um… When I was eight, I met… Someone really important to me. My best friend, Dwight. Met him when I was trying to run away from home during a snowstorm, he brought me inside, gave me a place to sleep… And, the next morning I had to go really bad. He just said ‘Okay,’ and showed me where the toilet was. Didn’t make me beg for it or anything. And when I asked if I was really allowed, he said that of course I was. So, I went in to go, and I was having trouble at first like always because I realized he’d be able to… Hear me. And I got really nervous that I was gonna be in there for a whole hour again like I always was, and Dwight was going to know something was wrong with me.
“Except, just a couple minutes later he knocked on the door and asked if I was okay, told me again that I WAS allowed to pee here and nothing bad was going to happen if I did… And for some reason as soon as he said that, as soon as I heard his voice, I was going just fine. I didn’t want to run away from town anymore, I wanted to stay with Dwight because he was so nice to me. But, Father found me with him that day, and he was really mad that I’d tried to run away. He brought me back home and gave me one of the worst punishments of my life.
“I ended up having to tell Dwight about my problem eventually. We were spending the night sleeping in the woods together, and I couldn’t go outside. He could tell I really needed to, though. Kept asking what was wrong… And, I told him. I was so sure he’d laugh, or call me names like Father did… But, he didn’t. He just said he’d keep watch for me, that he’d help me relax and calm down if peeing outside was scary for me. And that’s what he did. He held me, and he just… It was the first physical contact I’d had in so long that wasn’t painful… I was able to pee when he was touching me like that. And he promised he’d always help me if I had trouble like that.
“He has, too. He… Still does it. He still holds me and rubs my back while I try to go… A lot of the time it’s the only way that I can. And he’s never gotten angry with me about it, or tired of it… He’s always there… But, it feels like my Father is, too. Because, I STILL have so much trouble peeing, I still hear him shouting at me, I still feel him pulling at my hair. And he’s dead now. He shouldn’t be able to do anything to me anymore, he shouldn’t be able to control something so… Something so basic! But, every day, I LET him keep doing it. Every day, I let him win.”
Miriam was shaking her head as she took it all in. “I want you to understand that this is not your fault.”
“I know, it was his fault at FIRST, but it should be gone now. Because HE’S gone.”
Miriam still shook her head. “No… Kenneth, when your Father hit you, where did he do it?”
“All over,” Kenneth said. “There wasn’t one part of my body he DIDN’T hit.”
“Okay, so let’s say he hit you in the arm one day, but then he didn’t touch you there for a few days afterwards,” Miriam said. “Your arm was still hurting, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Kenneth said, recalling how sometimes he’d be unable to raise his arms above his head for a week following a particularly harsh ‘lesson.’
“Something would be left behind on you, right?” Miriam asked. “You’d have a bruise. And the bruise wouldn’t go away just because you weren’t being hit right that second. It would stay there. It would need time to heal.”
“But, I don’t have any of those bruises anymore,” Kenneth said. “They’re gone. They’ve been gone for a long time.”
“Yes, but… What if you have more bruises that you can’t see?” Miriam suggested. “What if you have some that are inside of you, and THOSE haven’t healed yet?”
“…Huh?”
“Kenneth, I think you have a lot of big feelings,” Miriam said. “Everything you just told me, you were very detailed. You told me exactly how those things made you feel and still make you feel. Have you ever done that before?”
“Not… Not all of it,” Kenneth said. “I talked to Dwight about it a lot back when it was all still happening, but I never just… Ran through everything like that with him. He was there, he knows all of it. Don’t have to do that.”
Miriam went quiet for a moment. “Are you sure?” she asked.
“Sure about what? About Dwight knowing everythi—“
“About not needing to ‘run through everything’ and talk about how it makes you feel,” Miriam corrected.
“Um… Why would I need to talk about it, unless it’s to explain it to somebody? I already know what happened, too.”
“I have to be honest,” Miriam said. “I’m not that sure what I’m suggesting right now, either. I want to help you feel better, and I know you have more going on than just a severe UTI right now… When you got further through that story though, you seemed… Happier. More relaxed.”
“Because I was talking about Dwight.”
“Not just that, you seemed… Relieved,” Miriam said. “Like, you were getting rid of something you’d been carrying for a long time. How do you feel now that you’ve said all of that? Any better?”
Kenneth thought that he did… He no longer felt like stomping back and forth across the room and screaming his lungs out about how much he hated everything. “I do, actually. A lot better.” Even the pain in his back and midsection seemed to have lessened a bit. “I don’t understand why, though… All I did was ramble for ten minutes while somebody listened and let it go on.”
“Maybe you need someone to listen to you,” Miriam said. “Maybe you need to talk sometimes, let out your memories. You can still go over these things with your friend, even if none of it is new to him. It doesn’t sound like he’d be upset to hear about your feelings…” she paused. “When you were… Shouting earlier, just yelling, and I couldn’t understand… Did that make you feel any better?”
“A tiny bit,” Kenneth said. “Not as much as talking about everything, though.”
“Do you get angry like that often?”
“Yes…” Kenneth admitted. “Sometimes, I… Do things I really regret. I feel like I’m turning into my Father every time I lose it.”
“How does that usually happen? Do you go a long time controlling it, and then you lash out suddenly when you get really upset?”
“Y—Yeah, I think so…Usually I can hold it in for a while and try to just turn it off, I guess. But then it just builds up and something will randomly frustrate me too much, and I blow up.”
“What if you didn’t ‘turn it off’.”
Kenneth looked horrified at the idea. Caging his anger demon was a full-time job, an important one, one that kept him from constantly going on a rampage… But also meant that when the latch on its prison broke, it was really powerful. “I can’t just LET myself get mad. I’ll turn into him!”
“Just… Try to let yourself feel angry,” Miriam suggested. “Whenever you’re mad, let yourself be mad. I think that pushing it down so much means that when you finally do break and lose it, it’s more intense because you’ve bottled it all up for so long. When you get really angry at something, do you think it’s really JUST that one thing that’s upsetting you so much?”
Kenneth shrugged. He didn’t think it was. Last week he’d gotten so mad at a drawer in the supply room refusing to shut that he’d torn the whole thing out and thrown it against a wall. But, the entire time he’d been fighting with the drawer, he’d been THINKING about how Bryce had drank the last can of his favorite soda, and about how he’d gotten a hole in his favorite pair of socks, and about how some of the other guards had taunted him for his height by taking his wallet and holding it just out of his reach, and remembering the day his Father had called him a waste of oxygen… “No,” he said finally. “It’s never just the one thing.”
“Because you don’t let your anger out every time you need to. You hold it back until you explode. THAT’S probably why you end up doing things you regret. Can you try it for a few days, letting yourself get angry every time you feel the need to get angry?”
Kenneth wasn’t sure if that was a good idea, but he nodded. “I— I could try to do that…”
“Good,” Miriam encouraged. “Just see how it makes you feel… Do you do this with your other emotions? Do you let yourself cry? I know we haven’t been talking long, but you seem like a very tense person, like you’re always holding something in. I want you to let it out.”
“But… I can’t let it out,” Kenneth said. “I already said, when I get angry, it’s dangerous. And, I can’t cry. Look at me!” he gestured to his uniform. “I’m not supposed to cry, every time I do I feel like a failure.”
“You shouldn’t,” Miriam said. “When you need to cry, you need to cry. Did you let yourself cry when your Mother passed away?”
“I— I did cry then,” Kenneth said. “But, Father couldn’t stand the noise, like I said. He hated the sound of me crying, if I did that then whatever was happening would always get worse.”
“No one is going to hurt you if you cry now,” Miriam told him.
Kenneth nodded, then kept nodding. He thought about all of his problems, and how they could all be traced back to a single source. He thought about the years he spent TRYING to find the one thing he could change about himself, the one thing he could do differently that would make his Father love him. He thought about how his Mother had been stolen from him. He thought about how he’d been beaten and punished just for being alive. He thought about how scared he was of his own emotions. He thought about how easy it had been to urinate back when he was very small, how he hadn’t even needed to think about it, how it would just happen. He thought about how a dead monster continued to control him on puppet strings from beyond the grave. He thought about last night; Publicly wetting himself because a very similar monster had gotten him alone for just long enough to overpower him and hurt him so badly.
And, he cried.
He cried so hard, his chest heaving and clenching as his body shook with his sobs. He cried, right there in front of someone he only barely knew. He cried, shaking his injured bladder and making the pain inside it intensify. He cried, and he cried, and he cried.
He hadn’t deserved to be born to such a loathsome creature as his Father. He hadn’t deserved to be sent through Hell from before he even knew how to walk, only to come out the other end so damaged and broken. He didn’t deserve to be the one picking up all the pieces that someone else had broken. He’d deserved to be loved. He’d deserved to have a chance encounter with a boy that would become his lifelong friend. He’d deserved to be held and hugged and told that everything was okay, even when it wasn’t. He’d deserved a love so great that it could sometimes cancel out all of the bad things.
When he was finally out of tears, his cheeks soaked and his clothing ruffled, Kenneth felt… Better. He’d finally released something he’d been holding in for so long that he hadn’t even noticed the pressure of it anymore. He’d let it all out. He’d set it free.
He’d relieved himself.
And he felt so much better that the aching pangs in his abdomen weren’t so awful anymore.
… But, his infection hadn’t magically gone away or anything. It was still there, and it was causing him to need to pee quite badly yet again. “Uh— Um…” he sat up straighter. “I… Feel a lot better now. I don’t really know why… All I did was yell, talk, and cry… But, I don’t know. Maybe you’re right, maybe I need to talk to my friends about this stuff, even if they do already know it. And, maybe I need to… Um… ‘let myself feel things’, or whatever you said… It’s… Okay to cry?”
“Yes,” Miriam said.
“Even though I’m… Supposed to be…” Kenneth looked down at his uniform again.
“Even though you’re a soldier,” Miriam said. “Everyone needs to cry sometimes.”
“Al—Alright,” Kenneth said, standing up. “I… um… I need to… When I get UTIs I end up needing to—“
“Try not to hold it while you recover,” Miriam said. “I’m sure you were told that the other times, though. I’ll get you some antibiotics to take. And, when you’re feeling too much, I want you to talk to someone. Just… Anyone you can trust. It looks like that helps you, doesn’t it?”
“It does…” Kenneth agreed.
***
Kenneth was back in one of the main rooms, he told Dwight he needed to pee one more time before they left. Dwight was glad he’d chosen to speak up, that he wasn’t still trying to delay it to avoid the burning. Something about Kenneth seemed different than he’d been during the morning, he was less shaky, less fragile… Dwight no longer worried that he’d cause his friend to shatter just by breathing wrong.
It only took a minute for Dwight to coax Kenneth’s stream out that time. When he heard his friend start whimpering, saw him gritting his teeth, Dwight held him even tighter. “I’m sorry…” he said. “It is just another infection, though?”
“Y—Yeah, but more severe,” Kenneth confirmed as his pee came to a stop. “Th—That’s all of it…”
“Good,” Dwight praised, as his friend zipped up, Dwight looked unsure. “Um… The train ride back…” he said. “We have to leave today… I don’t know how…”
“I always hold it through that,” Kenneth reminded.
“Yes, but normally you aren’t sick with something that makes you have to go more often, AND makes it super dangerous for you to hold it.”
Kenneth sighed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to go on the train. He could maybe go at the station when they stopped at the half-way point, but even that could prove to be too long of a wait in his current condition.
“You… Made it through the night okay,” Dwight considered. “Maybe I should give you your insomnia medication and try to have you sleep through the ride?”
Kenneth nodded, that could work. He hadn’t gotten up in the night to pee, but he HAD woken up having an emergency. “I’ll need somewhere to go right away after I get up,” he said.
“I know, I’m hoping you’ll be able to manage it at the station. You’ve gone there before without a problem, right?”
“Yeah.”
***
Kenneth had to go badly again by the time they arrived at the train station. He told Dwight, and with his help, he was able to use the restroom there. He shuddered and cringed as the fire blazed down his length, and tried not to think about how this was going to be his last piss for hours while his bladder continued to act up.
On board the train, Dwight gave him an antibiotic and some of his insomnia medication and he was asleep before long. Dwight really wanted to hold his hand while he slept, to rub it gently and try to impart some calm into him. It would be really awful if Kenneth had one of his horrific nightmares right now.
But, Bryce was right there, and while he hadn’t batted an eyelash last night about the sleeping arrangement Kenneth had requested, Dwight wasn’t sure if open hand-holding was a good idea.
“Christ, he snores like a fucking warthog…” Bryce grumbled as he reached for his book. “Barely slept last night thanks to all that, you know?”
Dwight sighed. He found the sound of Kenneth snoring to be rather soothing, honestly… A nice reminder that he was there, so close. Dwight had trouble sleeping WITHOUT that noise. Kenneth talked in his sleep sometimes too, usually muttering vague threats “Fight me… Square up…” Dwight found THAT relaxing, too.
“At least we won’t have to see Karl anymore,” Bryce said. “One good thing out of all this… Not that I care, because I don’t, but is Kenneth okay? He was back there with the nurse for a long time.”
“He’s sick,” Dwight answered. “Has to take some antibiotics for a bit. Probably wouldn’t want me to say more than that.”
“Okay… But, Paulson had… an extremely public accident last night. Is he alright?”
“I think part of him might be in shock over it,” Dwight said. “I’m honestly going to have to wait and see what it does to him emotionally once he’s healed up more physically. He’s not feeling well right now, not himself… But, he’s still TELLING me when he needs to go, even though it’s hurting him a lot right now, so he’s doing better than I’d expected him to be.”
***
Kenneth woke up when they were close to their destination. He wriggled in his seat, the pins and needles from staying still so long mixing with a sharp pressure inside his bladder. His knee bounced as he asked if they were nearly there.
“Yes,” Dwight assured. “You slept through almost all of it… Did you have any nightmares?”
Kenneth shook his head, “No… Mostly I dreamed about us going to the beach. Then the ocean got really loud and it started to rain, and I woke up…” He crossed his legs. “Um… We’re REALLY close, right?”
“We are, Kenneth,” Dwight said. “I’m sorry. I know everything’s feeling bad right now.”
Kenneth made it to their stop, cringing as he stood and exited the train. His bladder felt like it was tied in knots inside him. He was scared what would happen if he didn’t manage to let go here. Dwight was by his side quickly, taking him into the restroom and locking the door.
He began to rub Kenneth’s shoulders, just like always, encouraging him to relax.
Kenneth was anxious, though. That had been a long ride. Other people probably had to use this toilet now. And, the longer Kenneth took to pee, the longer they’d have to wait. They’d get impatient and start wondering what in the world was taking him so long. They’d think something was really wrong with him. They’d judge him…
Earlier, when he’d given voice to all of his feelings, it had been like lifting a massive weight off his body. “Dwight, I am nervous because people are probably waiting on me out there…”
Dwight blew out a calming breath, “I know,” he said. “But, you have to pee now. Try and go for me, okay?”
Those people were also likely to see him and Dwight leave this room together. “Um… I am also nervous because they’re gonna notice that we went in here at the same time…”
“They’ll just assume we were both desperate,” Dwight said, and when Kenneth heard his toe tapping against the floor he knew that that wouldn’t exactly be a lie…
“I’m nervous because I just realized I’m making YOU wait, too.”
“I don’t mind,” Dwight said. “I can hold it until you’re feeling better, no big deal…”
Kenneth tried to fight down all his anxiety, but his worries wouldn’t fade away. If someone on the other side of that door really had to go, then they probably WERE getting frustrated with him. Dwight was right that people may assume they’d come in here together because neither of them could wait, but Karl had at least been able to see through that excuse. Dwight may have said he didn’t mind waiting, but Kenneth could hear him shifting around and felt bad for causing his friend to feel so uncomfortable. He tried and tried as hard as he could to throw the nervous feelings out of him along with his piss, but then he had another thought.
Miriam had said that maybe trying NOT to feel the things he needed to feel wasn’t actually good for him. That his emotions probably wouldn’t all be so intense if he didn’t try to hold them back all the time.
What if instead of trying to chase his anxiety away and just making himself more tense in the process, he… Let it run its course to see what would happen?
Kenneth made his mind go quiet, made it cease the circular thought patterns in which the answer to one fear only seemed to create a new one. He focused on how his anxiety actually FELT, on the skittering buzz going up his arms and pooling in his chest, on the tightening in his lungs and the tension in his lower half…
It was the first time he’d really stopped and thought about how his nerves made him feel physically— Beyond the ever-present fullness in his bladder, anyway. It was like he had little ants swarming below his skin, all throughout his body… And now that he thought about it, it was something he felt almost all of the time. Sometimes the ants would be warmer, red hot as they accompanied his rage, sometimes they’d be more ticklish if he was happy or excited… But this twitchy feeling just below his skin was always, ALWAYS there in some form.
“I… Um… Dwight, I feel… Buzzing in my chest and arms,” Kenneth stated.
“Hm?” Dwight asked. “Is—Is that a symptom of the infec—“
“No, it’s… Nerves,” Kenneth said. “That’s what they feel like. Like something’s digging around all over me.”
“I… Guess I kind of understand what you’re trying to say? I’ve felt like my chest is gonna burst when I’ve gotten really scared before… THAT’S what you feel when you just try to pee, though?”
“Yes,” Kenneth said. “Other times too, but when I try to pee I feel it a lot.”
Dwight adjusted his hold on Kenneth, so that now he was rubbing his chest in a circular pattern, “Uhh… Does this help it go away?”
For a few seconds, Kenneth still felt the twisting sensation. But, then he thought about how Dwight had just immediately changed tactics without even really being asked, how determined Dwight always was to help him and make him feel better. Now, the buzzing felt warmer, but not fiery like it was when he was mad. It was the warmth, mixed with the tickling he got when he was happy… A feeling he’d never paid attention to before, but immediately associated with Dwight.
Love.
And, he tried to forget about how their love was forbidden, how people would react to it, how it could go wrong. He tried to just let himself feel that love, that sense of safety and of calm.
…
Pssshhhh….
His stream started to pour out, and it burned and stung, but not as badly as it had been earlier. Already, the medication he’d taken before boarding the train seemed to be helping to ease his pain.
“There you go…” Dwight encouraged. “Keep doing that…” He was happy when he didn’t hear Kenneth whimper or cringe, didn’t see him stomp his feet with discomfort.
Half a minute later, Kenneth was finished and zipping up. “I feel better,” he informed.
“That’s good,” Dwight said, unzipping his own pants and letting go right away. “Phew…”
“Sorry I made you wait…”
“It’s okay, I already told you,” Dwight reminded. “Want to take care of you first.”
Edited July 3, 2022 by secretomoact
(see edit history) |
The medication Kenneth was taking helped a lot, after two days, while he was still needing to urinate frequently and experiencing burning whenever he let it out, the pain in his back had faded entirely.
Kenneth had to stay inside while he recovered from his illness. His first day back, he’d tried to keep working, but had found it to be impossible. Every thirty minutes, he’d be hit with an agonizing need to relieve his bladder. Bryce allowed him to go every time he asked— Only because he’d get in trouble for not looking after his subordinates health, not because he cared about Kenneth, or anything! So, twice an hour Kenneth would be rushing back and forth to empty his bladder, and that had severely hindered his ability to actually DO his job.
The second day, he returned to his post, but Bryce insisted that he should just let himself rest for now— Because it had been annoying to have to grant so many breaks the day before! That was all! He didn’t care one way or the other if Kenneth got better! Not at all! Kenneth had tried to argue for a bit, but as he’d presented his case and tried to prove that he was still capable of working, his bladder surged violently and he’d been forced to stop mid-sentence to request a toilet break.
“Just go back and rest, I’ll fill in for you today,” Bryce rolled his eyes. “Jeez…”
So, Kenneth had obeyed, and for the rest of the day he stayed in his room, close to the spot where he could most easily urinate.
That night, Dwight really started to notice that something about Kenneth had changed. Kenneth had begun to fidget and writhe in his arms in the middle of the night. Dwight had responded by tightening his grip around his friend and kissing him lightly on the cheek, trying to calm him down.
When Kenneth’s eyes flew open, and he realized Dwight had already woken up as well, Dwight expected him to just mumble “Another nightmare about my Father…” and leave it at that. But… Instead, Kenneth kept talking. He described which event his brain had just forced him to relive, how he’d felt when it had actually been happening to him, and how it made him feel now that it had been replayed to him in his dream. “I feel so angry, Dwight. I’m tired of having nightmares about this stuff. It’s over, I want to forget about it. It isn’t fair.”
‘Want’. That word caught Dwight’s attention. Its meaning was different from the usual “I SHOULD have forgotten it all by now.” It was acknowledgement that his memories weren’t removable, just a desire that they COULD be gotten rid of. “It ISN’T fair,” Dwight agreed. “But, now you’re awake. You know it’s over, and you’re with me now.”
“Yes…” Kenneth allowed himself to snuggle deeper against his friend. “I feel… I feel safe when you’re with me.”
The next morning, Kenneth scrambled from bed to the toilet, and Dwight watched as he just barely yanked his pajama pants down before a stream blasted from his tip. “Hnnnh…” Kenneth whimpered a bit as it poured out of him. It seemed that his first pee of the day was always the one that stung most for him.
“Stay inside again today,” Dwight told him, opening the cap on Kenneth’s medication. “Take this and try to feel better.”
“I can’t skip two days in a row,” Kenneth complained. “Bryce filled in for me yesterday, but my post is supposed to be for TWO people.”
“I can be there with Bryce today,” Dwight said. “You just need to focus on getting well again, alright?”
“But, it’s supposed to be your day off,” Kenneth reminded.
“It’s fine, I don’t mind working one more day.”
“Okay…” Kenneth sighed. “If you’re sure you can handle the extra work.”
“I can, don’t worry about it,” Dwight promised. He got himself ready for the day, putting on his uniform and relieving his bladder before heading out. Dwight didn’t feel even the slightest hint of worry about skipping his day off, but he knew he was going to feel… Weird being around Bryce so much today.
Dwight had been feeling a tiny bit awkward while in Bryce’s presence ever since the night everything had happened with Karl. More specifically, Dwight had been feeling awkward ever since the aftermath of those events; The three of them, cuddling in bed together.
Through the night, Dwight had tried to tamp down the possessive urge to pull Kenneth closer to HIM and further from Bryce, fearful of what Bryce might think if he noticed he was getting… Well, there was no other word to describe it, he was getting JEALOUS. An aching, yearning feeling that made Dwight squirm every time he remembered it.
Dwight thought he was being silly— He KNEW he was being silly— He’d never seen any indication that Bryce liked ANY men at all, let alone one that he constantly insulted and argued with. He’d seen Bryce stumble over his words and blush around Elizabeth—THAT was who Bryce liked, not Kenneth.
The night he and Kenneth had first really talked about their relationship, Kenneth had explained that Dwight was the ONLY person he’d ever felt attracted to in his entire life, that he didn’t think he COULD feel attracted to anyone unless he was already very, very close to them.
But, could Kenneth get close to another person in the same way, and then he’d find himself interested in THEM, too? Dwight didn’t really know how that worked! For him, he’d just… See a person sometimes, be they a man or a woman, and think to himself that they were kind of hot. He didn’t need to really KNOW them first before he thought that, but those instances still weren’t the same feelings he got when he was around Kenneth.
He did definitely think Kenneth was a good looking guy, and over the years most of the men Dwight had ever felt interested in would sort of LOOK like Kenneth did— They’d be short, narrow, bony, have big eyes and light hair— but for all he knew, falling so hard for Kenneth had been the thing to shape his taste in men.
That too seemed different for Kenneth, he’d said plenty of times that he loved Dwight’s abs and muscular arms, but said he’d never been enticed by those features on any other person. Later, he’d commented that if Dwight ever exercised less and got out of shape, he’d probably just suddenly have a thing for chubby stomachs because now that feature would be a part of Dwight’s body. Dwight hadn’t shaped Kenneth’s taste in men exactly, instead Kenneth’s tastes just morphed to accommodate whatever Dwight happened to look like.
So, Dwight thought it was silly to be jealous of Bryce any time he happened to touch Kenneth, as it seemed that the only real requirement Kenneth had for a romantic partner was that they just… Be Dwight.
But, Dwight worried anyway, what if someday there WAS a person Kenneth bonded with as much as he had with Dwight? What if Kenneth started to like them even better?
And, beneath that jealousy and worry, there was something else about that night. At one point, Dwight had woken up for a moment and discovered that his and Bryce’s hands had joined together when they’d both been draping their arms across Kenneth, and Dwight hadn’t had ANY urge to unlink their fingers. But, THAT was something he found too confusing to even contemplate, so he tried his best to just ignore it.
***
Bryce stood in the area where he usually supervised Kenneth during the day. Yesterday, he had discovered that remaining vigilant for intruders was a lot more difficult than making sure his subordinate didn’t fall asleep, sit down, or wander off without permission. He was really much more used to keeping his eyes on one, specific person. Trying to watch out for actual threats wasn’t as easy.
This morning, Bryce noticed a slight pressure and realized he may just end up having an even harder time concentrating than he’d had yesterday. He’d remembered to relieve his bladder after getting up, but he’d also woken to a very dry mouth that had caused him to drink a little more water than he typically did. He already needed the toilet again— He certainly wasn’t desperate, but the urge was just insistent enough that he couldn’t push it out of his brain.
‘Dwight pisses here constantly,’ Bryce reminded himself.
‘Yes, but he’s an idiot,’ another part of his mind argued. ‘You’re better than that.’
‘No one’s around to see you, though,’ his other side pointed out.
Bryce glanced around, confirming that no one would see if he chose to relieve his bladder right where he was. He reached for his belt and started to unclasp it. ‘Just this once,’ he thought. ‘Just so you can concentrate.’ His hips hitched forwards slightly as he tried to ready himself.
Before he’d managed to get his belt undone, Bryce heard approaching footsteps that made him jump hard before freezing in his place. His hands balled themselves into fists by his sides as he spun around. “S—Smith," he said. “You are supposed to be resting today.”
“Since Kenneth’s still not feeling well, I thought I’d help you out,” Dwight explained. “I don’t mind.”
A curious sensation was thrumming around within Bryce’s abdomen then, a sort of confused pulsing that began at the base of his cock and flared down through to his tip. The little bolt Bryce typically felt in the millisecond before his bladder began to empty— only this time the feeling just continued on and on, growing stronger, as his bladder struggled to understand why its relief had suddenly been snatched away in the last moment. His body had been anticipating relief, and now that was well beyond his reach. It all made Bryce feel like he had to go a whole lot worse than he actually did, and he rocked on his feet to try to chase away all the little pangs. “Well,” he said finally. “Well… Alright. If you’re sure.”
Dwight took his spot and stood there quietly. It wasn’t because he couldn’t think of anything to talk about, but because the one topic he could think of was one he didn’t WANT to bring up. He was sure Bryce didn’t want to talk about that night very much, either. He’d noticed how uncomfortably stiff Bryce’s body had gone at the sight of him, a confirmation that everything was going to feel awkward for a little while.
‘Did Bryce notice that we’d started holding hands?’ Dwight kept wondering. That was the moment that weighed on his mind the most. Squeezing Bryce’s hand super tightly, while cuddling Kenneth so closely… Dwight had to stop thinking about that. It made him feel twitchy. “Kenneth is doing a little better, I think,” he informed. “He doesn’t feel pain unless he’s… You know, going. And he says it isn’t AS bad now.”
Bryce looked away. He hated to admit it, but he’d been HOPING Dwight would say something so that he could have a distraction from his bladder. But, of course, Dwight’s chosen topic of conversation had to be Kenneth’s bladder and the things that were wrong with it. “Th—That’s good,” Bryce said. He glanced down, and saw his toes were pointing in towards one another. That wouldn’t do! He was supposed to stand with his legs apart, feet facing out! He corrected his pose, feeling another little tremor of need just beneath the soft skin of his abdomen.
‘You know you can go in front of him, right?’ Bryce tried to reason. ‘You’ve done it before, and he’s… Open about these matters. He’d be the last person to judge you for this.’ But, to do that would be like saying he COULDN’T hold it anymore, when he KNEW that he could. He only kind of had to go, it wasn’t taking any effort at all to keep his pee where it belonged. He only wanted to pee so that he’d feel more comfortable throughout all the long hours he’d have to stand here. That was all.
But, if he peed, Dwight would THINK he was doing it because he was having an emergency, not simply because his urge was irritating him. Bryce would not allow Dwight to assume— Even for a second— that he was bursting and couldn’t hold it.
He’d wait. He’d wait and put up with all the annoying buzzing throbs happening down below. They weren’t a big deal.
Dwight had gone quiet again. Without permission, his brain replayed the hand-holding from the other night on loop. He wished he’d just slept through that, then he wouldn’t know it had happened and he wouldn’t have to feel so confused about it. “He’s talking more,” Dwight informed at last. “Which is good. I expected him to keep being silent, like he was right after… Right after everything happened.”
“Good, good,” Bryce nodded. He knew he probably should have said something else after that, but he couldn’t think of anything. When he’d come into that room, when he’d seen Karl manhandling Kenneth and causing him to flood his pants in public like that, he’d been so shocked by the cruelty of it that it was all he could really focus on.
Replaying the memory now though, when his own bladder was being so terribly annoying, Bryce kept coming back to how loudly Kenneth’s stream had hissed into his clothes, to the splashes of the liquid soaking onto the ground below him. It seemed Bryce didn’t even need to physically HEAR running water for it to effect his bladder, simply recalling what it sounded like was enough to get him tensing his thighs up a little more.
And, remembering what had happened to Kenneth so recently was making Bryce remember things that had happened to HIM a long time ago.
One day, when he was around ten, he’d been wriggling madly at his desk in the school-house. His curly hair, which had always looked pretty frazzled in those days, had become even more unkempt thanks to his constant, uncontrollable bouncing. At one point, he’d timidly asked his teacher if he could be excused, but she never allowed anyone to leave during class, no matter how obvious it was that they needed a break.
Bryce swayed from side to side, crossing his legs this way and that as one of his hands held the front of his pants tightly. He could see Karl watching him from the other side of the room, he could see the amusement in the other boy’s eyes, and he knew what that meant for his chances of getting proper relief when the class was let out for recess.
The very second they were dismissed, Bryce decided, he was going to have to RUN. He was going to have to run as fast as he possibly could, even if the harsh steps and long strides made some of his pee come out before he was ready. Running was his only hope of beating Karl to the bathroom and actually being able to USE it.
After what felt like days, the class was dismissed for recess. Bryce’s bladder was yelling at him to stand up slowly and carefully to prevent an accidental spill, but ‘slow’ and ‘careful’ wouldn’t get him to the toilet before Karl did. So, he launched himself out of his seat, sure enough a dribble trailed down his legs right away, but he didn’t care. He just had to get there in time! He took off into a sprint, running out of the room and onto the playground. More pee came out with each step and he could feel himself getting more sodden by the second. He still had to try!
On the playground, he made the turn towards the restroom too fast, losing control over his feet and landing harshly onto the ground. Another big leak left him then, but that was nothing compared to his other problem; his glasses had flown off his face.
Bryce had incredibly poor vision. Without his thick glasses, he couldn’t see past his own nose. Everything was just a blurry, smudged lump of barely identifiable shapes. He frantically felt around on the ground for them, and his heart sank when he made contact with broken glass.
His eyes welled up with tears, his parents were going to be really mad! And… And he still had to go so much! Lip trembling, he picked up the glasses and struggled onto his feet. He could feel only the left lens had shattered, so he was going to be able to see out of ONE eye, still. He put them on and closed his left eye, now mostly able to see where he was going.
He made it to the restroom, but of course, his fall and search for his glasses had given Karl enough time to beat him. Karl laughed as soon as he saw Bryce. “You still need to go? I’m surprised you didn’t wet yourself when you fell,” he said. “That was hilarious.”
Karl was blocking the toilet, same as he always did whenever he decided that tormenting Bryce’s bladder was how he’d like to spend his recess.
“You smell like piss,” Karl remarked, stepping closer to Bryce. “You SURE you actually need to be in here anymore? And I see you’re half-blind now, have fun telling your parents you busted your glasses because you can’t hold your pee.”
Bryce was clutching at his front with both hands now. He’d stopped losing trickles into his clothes, but he felt like he was about to burst completely! “I have a few coins in my pockets,” he stated. “Just take those and let me use the toilet.”
Karl snorted out another laugh. “Can’t let go of yourself for two seconds to reach them on your own?” he guessed. He reached into Bryce’s pockets and retrieved his change. He looked at the three coins, then tossed them to the ground. “That’s hardly anything!” he said. “Definitely not enough for me to let you pee.”
“Please?” Bryce asked. “I haven’t got anything else!”
“Alright. If you can hold it for one more minute, I’ll let you go,” Karl decided.
“J—Just one more minute?” tears were going down Bryce’s face. “Promise?”
“Promise,” Karl assured. “Starts now.”
Bryce could hold it one more minute. It hurt so bad, but he could hold it one more minute! Just one more minute, and he’d feel all better. Just one more minute, and it would be over. His insides would stop burning. He’d only have to hide a little, tiny wet spot on his pants for the rest of the day. One more minute. One more minute. He could do it.
But then, Karl had grabbed him, and Karl was much bigger than Bryce. Karl pinned Bryce against the wall with one hand, and used the other to press down on his lower stomach.
And Bryce couldn’t hold it at all after that.
Bryce didn’t like to remember that day, or the dozens of others that were exactly like it. Sometimes, he was able to push those memories out, but then something would happen to bring them all back.
Seeing Karl do it again had hurt, even if it wasn’t Bryce that he’d done it to. If anything, seeing it happen to someone else made Bryce feel even worse, because he was forced to confront what he must have LOOKED like in those moments. That shocked, vacant expression on Kenneth’s face, the stunned tears, the heaving…
And, it wasn’t that he felt bad for Kenneth. Because he didn’t. He felt nothing for Kenneth, aside from annoyance. And he certainly hadn’t been relieved when Kenneth asked him to stay by his side that night because it meant he’d be able to keep an eye on him and make sure he was okay. He certainly hadn’t been happy when Kenneth wanted him to spend the night in bed. He certainly hadn’t enjoyed holding onto him.
He hadn’t.
“If… Um… If it makes Paulson feel any better,” Bryce began, unsure of what he was even saying. “You can tell him that Karl used to do that to me all of the time.”
“Huh?” Dwight asked.
“The… Pushing thing,” Bryce said. “When you… When you need to go and he squeezes you until you have an accident. He did that to me a lot. He thought it was funny.” Talking about this wasn’t helping his current bladder situation at all, and he had no clue why he was saying this— Why he was giving Dwight permission to tell Kenneth about one of the most awful, humiliating things that had ever happened to him.
“Oh…” Dwight said. He looked away. That weird feeling was getting bigger. Bryce didn’t usually just ‘share’ things like that— Especially not if they were embarrassing! Usually, it took a lot of work to get Bryce to acknowledge that he HAD a bladder, much less that there’d ever been a time where he’d lost control over it.
Speaking of bladders, Dwight’s own was starting to feel pretty full. He couldn’t hold his urine for as long as his friends could, it was lucky that he was also the one that was most open about his needs, that had the least amount of trouble attending to them around other people. He’d peed at this spot loads of times, simply turning around as soon as his bladder became too full to ignore and letting everything out. There was no reason for him not to do that right now.
He turned away, hand going to his belt. But, then he froze. He was about to take his… thing out. Right in front of Bryce.
He’d exposed his penis in front of Bryce plenty of times, though! He’d urinated in front of the other man more times than he could count! Every time Bryce supervised him out here, Dwight would empty his bladder several times throughout the day without even thinking about it! Bryce had seen his dick before, why did it suddenly feel different today?
Bryce had bitten back a groan when he’d seen Dwight turn around, sure that he was about to hear a zipper being yanked down followed by the sharp hiss of pee striking the dirt between Dwight’s feet. Bryce’s hips were already wriggling at the thought. The last thing his bladder wanted right now was to be forced to listen as someone else went.
But then, Dwight just turned back around without doing anything. “Your zipper caught again?” Bryce guessed.
Dwight jumped slightly. “O—Oh, no. I wasn’t… I don’t have to go,” he said. “I was just looking at a bug.”
“A bug…” Bryce repeated.
“Yeah,” Dwight said.
Dwight was the exact opposite of pee-shy, so Bryce had no reason to doubt him, but that STILL sounded like an excuse— Hell, it sounded like an excuse Bryce HIMSELF would use if he was caught just about to urinate. “…Alright,” he said finally. He certainly wasn’t going to argue, it wasn’t as though he WANTED to be subjected to the sound of Dwight releasing a stream when he still needed to keep his OWN stream right where it was.
Wow, it would sure feel good to let it out, though… Bryce’s urge for relief had grown considerably since he’d first noticed it. The pressure was now severe enough that it was forcing him to move about. He swayed from side to side, his knees occasionally bending as he tapped his fingers against his hips. Pressing his thighs together, Bryce asked “What kind of bug was it?” desperate for something else to think about.
Dwight cringed as he tried to think of a type of bug. His mind was blank, however. Now that he’d noticed he had a full bladder, the only words that he WANTED to say were “I need to pee!” and it was difficult to come up with different ones. “I— I don’t know. It was big. A beetle, I guess.”
Bryce crossed his arms, since he didn’t DARE do the same thing with his legs. “So long as it wasn’t a poison one.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Dwight said, taking a few hesitant steps in place. It was so hard for him to keep quiet and still when he had to go! If he couldn’t TALK about his need, he at least had to squirm!
An hour later, Dwight was REALLY squirming— That was how it was for him, his bladder could go from ‘uncomfortable but manageable’ to ‘stretched within an inch of its life’ VERY quickly. One hour of holding was all it took for Dwight to be constantly bouncing in place, crossing his legs and biting back tiny, needy moans.
Bryce was pacing stiffly next to him, his stomach felt bloated and full, straining with urgency. He swore Dwight must have needed to go as well— Most days, Dwight would have urinated at his post at least ONCE by now, and he was ridiculously antsy at the moment. But, Bryce knew that couldn’t be the case because Dwight didn’t have any reason to hold it. He knew the other man didn’t possess even the slightest bit of shame, and he couldn’t have been holding it in out of sympathy for Kenneth— If Kenneth was having trouble urinating right now, Dwight would have said as much first thing.
Plus, Dwight NEVER shut the fuck up when he had to pee, and he hadn’t said even one word about wanting the toilet. So, Bryce reasoned, he must have been squirming for some OTHER reason. Likely, he was just worried about his sick friend. “I am sure Paulson will recover,” Bryce said. “He has had infections before, he always gets better.”
“H—He will,” Dwight agreed. He shifted his weight again, folding his arms across his chest and bending over a little bit, fighting to find a position that took some of the edge off his need. ‘I need to peeeee…’ he screamed inside his head. ‘I need to pee sooooo bad!’ But, merely thinking the words didn’t make him feel better in the same way moaning them aloud always did.
“So, try not to worry too much,” Bryce added. He checked his watch. Still a few hours to go until their midday break. Bryce would go then. Probably. So long as Dwight didn’t follow him or something. He knew he’d been awful fidgety for the last hour, so there was a chance Dwight suspected he needed to pee badly. If Dwight saw him GO as soon as they took their break, he’d be confirming the other’s suspicion— And making Dwight think that he couldn’t hold it.
That was unacceptable of course, because Bryce COULD hold it. Doing that was taking a considerable amount of effort now— He found himself having to rhythmically tense and relax his thigh muscles over and over to fight down the harsher spasms— but he COULD definitely hold it!
Dwight bounced on his heels. He turned around again, intending to give up and let himself piss in the same spot he’d pissed literally hundreds of times without ever once feeling ashamed about it. His hands clutched at his belt, and a gasp fell from his lips at a sudden surge in pressure. His bladder felt like a bloated water balloon resting in his lower abdomen, so full that its sides were beginning to tear. He twisted his legs and, rather than taking his belt apart like he’d WANTED to, he instead just started to tug at it, trying to draw it further way from his sore middle.
‘This is silly,’ Dwight thought. ‘I have to go so bad! I need to do it now! Right now!’ He tried to will himself to take his clothing apart for a much, MUCH needed piss, but his hands just wouldn’t cooperate. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he was going to need to expose himself with Bryce there.
‘Which you’ve done HUNDREDS of times,’ Dwight reminded himself. ‘He’s not going to peek, and even if he does, he’s SEEN it before. It’s not new. What’s so different now? Just because you held hands with him while you were both mostly asleep?’ He knew that wasn’t really the problem, he knew it had more to do with what the hand-holding had made him FEEL, but he didn’t even UNDERSTAND what it had made him feel!
Bryce watched Dwight turn and braced himself for a deluge of liquid that was sure to send his bladder into fits of spasming rage. Slowly, he crossed one leg over the other and allowed them to squeeze. Then, he just saw Dwight start to anxiously fiddle with his belt. He was deeply confused. “Do you need help getting it apart…?”
Dwight turned back around, “Hm? No… I— Get what apart?”
“Your belt…” Bryce stated. Liquid was pounding in his bladder, making his voice waver. His need was starting to pulsate harshly within his lower stomach. He tensed all his abdominal muscles, thighs quivering at a wave of need. “I thought you were about to relieve yourself…”
Dwight adjusted his belt yet again, but no matter what he did it just kept applying cruel, awful pressure onto his poor bladder. “Nope,” he said. “I… Uh…” He wanted to tell Bryce he needed to go, he wanted to tell Bryce that he suddenly felt abnormally strange about exposing himself while Bryce was there… But, then he’d probably end up saying WHY. “Nope,” he said. “I don’t have to go. I’m just… Um… Itchy. My stomach itches. The belt’s in the way. That’s why I’m pulling on it so much.”
“Well, I hope you’re not allergic to the new soap they’re having us use,” Bryce said.
“Maybe that IS it,” Dwight said quickly, continuing to fiddle with his belt. “A—Anyway, you said Karl has always been like this?” he asked, trying to divert Bryce’s attention away from him.
“Yes,” Bryce agreed. He was trying really hard to stop jiggling. Not only was his anxious movement a sure-fire way to get Dwight to notice his predicament, the squirming wasn’t helping him out at all. If anything, his fidgeting was actually making his problem WORSE. The liquid trapped within him sloshed every time he moved, sending fresh, pounding pulses of desperation through his abdomen every time the waves crashed against his trembling sphincters. “Karl likes to feel superior to everyone and I…” Bryce’s abdominal muscles tightened and his breathing hitched. “I was… I was an easy target when I was younger,” he admitted.
Dwight was surprised to hear that. He crossed his legs briefly for a second, trying to appear casual about it. His belt was still straining hard over his brimming bladder. He tugged on it once more, trying to hold it out away from himself, but it always snapped back into place, right in the worst possible spot. ‘I have to go, I have to go, I have to go…’ he kept thinking. “Did Karl pick on everybody?”
“Most people,” Bryce said. He tilted his head up to stare at the clouds. He didn’t want to be thinking about Karl, but the only other thing he could think of was his bladder. He knotted his legs up tight, swayed ever so slightly between his feet, and hoped Dwight wouldn’t notice. “But, me especially. I…” Bryce took off his glasses, immediately the world became clouded over, as if a sheet of plastic had been draped over his eyes. He couldn’t see the clouds anymore, and when he looked to his side he couldn’t really see Dwight, either.
“I’ve had these since I was little,” Bryce said. “Well, not these exact ones, but you know what I mean. I was three when I got my first pair, and up until then I’d been unable to see. I can’t remember being a baby, but I’m pretty sure my vision was bad from birth, because I never thought to mention to my parents that I couldn’t see. I just thought everything was supposed to look blurry. So, my parents didn’t know something was wrong until they saw I was always getting this horrible migraines, sometimes they’d be so bad I couldn’t get out of bed. So, they took me in to see their physician and it turned out my headaches were caused by me trying so hard to see things all of the time and I just needed glasses. After that I was really happy for a while, because now I could see everything I’d been missing— Up until then I barely even knew what my parents actually looked like. I’d never been able to make out my own reflection. I never realized trees had leaves on them instead of big green globs.”
Dwight let his thighs grind together, allowed his hips to sway and his legs to rub against one another. Bryce still hadn’t put his glasses back on, and from the sounds of it, that meant there was no way in Hell he’d be able to notice if Dwight was pee dancing. “What does that have to do with Karl?”
“Well…” Bryce turned the glasses slightly, so Dwight could better see how thick the lenses were. “They weren’t THIS thick when I was a kid— I swear, my eyesight gets worse every year— but they were still pretty thick.” He slipped them back onto his face. Clarity returned to the world as a surge of need slammed into his bladder. He hopped in place a couple times and fought down a groan. “And, my hair’s always been curly,” he added. “But, back then it was more… Frizzy. And I was small, and a late bloomer. I didn’t really have any decent growth spurts until I was sixteen, and I didn’t work out when I was a real young kid or anything. So, I looked like… Well, this tiny, little puff-ball with coke-bottle glasses… And, if you were Karl, who would you go after? The kid who’s almost as big as you, or… Me?”
Dwight winced and squeezed his hands into fists the second he saw Bryce put his glasses back on. He could see him again now, he had to try not to squirm so much… “I was bullied some as a kid, too,” he informed. “I guess for some of the same reasons. I was small, too. But, I mean, we were ALL pretty small at the orphanage, they were trying their best but we weren’t being fed properly. But, I was still the littlest one. And since I never put up a fight, I guess I was easy.”
“But… You had Paulson, didn’t you?” Bryce filled in. “He’s told me… Some of the things he did for you.” There was something in Bryce’s voice, a raspy quality, almost choked. Like he was trying not to… No. He didn’t cry. He didn’t have to TRY not to cry, because he just didn’t DO it.
“Yes,” Dwight agreed. “Kenneth… The first time I ever saw… ‘That’ side of him, the anger; It was when one of my bullies was picking on me. Kenneth just… Something came over him. He tackled this kid and made sure he’d never bother me again.”
Bryce looked down at his feet. He saw the way they were fidgeting, stomping hard into the dirt. He didn’t know if he really wanted to continue this conversation, fearful he was about to spiral into a place he never wanted to go, but the only other thing he had to focus his attention on was the sheer need to let go of all the urine sloshing within him. “I never had anybody stand up for me like that,” he admitted. “My parents did, sort of. But, they couldn’t go to school with me. Every time they tried to help, by telling my teacher or Karl’s parents, Karl just got angrier at me. It just got worse. So I stopped telling them anything and pretended I was okay.”
“I’m sorry,” Dwight said. “But… Oh, Kenneth eventually stood up to Karl for you just like he stood up to my bullies, right?”
Bryce froze, and then there was… So much pressure. So much liquid screaming for release. From BOTH ends of his body. His bladder shuddered and sent horrifically painful signals down his length, threatening to let loose a little spurt if he wasn’t careful. The backs of his eyes burned and throbbed, tears pricking right at their corners. But Bryce didn’t cry, and Bryce could hold his pee. He was in control. His body wasn’t. It wasn’t. “Y—Yeah…” Bryce managed. “He did. E—Even if it ended bad for him in the end, h—he…”
Bryce couldn’t finish his sentence. Kenneth had gone through Hell at the party the other night. Kenneth had endured a full bladder through a very long walk. Kenneth had been subjected to unimaginable pain under Karl’s hand. Kenneth had wet himself in public. Kenneth had gotten sick… Kenneth had done all those things, ultimately, because he’d CHOSEN to stand up for Bryce.
Bryce reached up and rubbed beneath his eyes frantically, “Ah— God, something— Something is in the air today. My allergies… Y—You know I have a lot of allergies,” he said. “I…” Dear God, what was happening to him? Why was he admitting to all these things? Why was he FEELING all these things? This wasn’t supposed to happen to him!
Dwight turned away again, and Bryce fought not to roll his eyes as he assumed the other was about to piss right when they were in the middle of… Whatever the Hell this was. But, once again, Bryce’s expectations were proven false when he DIDN’T hear a zipper being pulled down. He DID hear Dwight mumbling, however. His voice was incredibly soft, but Bryce had always had better hearing than most people— Like God had given him impeccable ears as a consolation prize to make up for his abysmal vision.
So, even if Dwight was whispering, Bryce could easily make out what he was saying, that being “I need to go… I can’t hold it… I’m gonna burst…” Which wasn’t exactly a shock to Bryce, but he didn’t understand WHY Dwight wasn’t peeing.
Not that he was really going to complain about it. He really, REALLY didn’t want to have to stand there and hold it while Dwight urinated. So, if he wanted to hold it for some reason, Bryce wasn’t going to stop him… Even if that whimpering WAS making him feel a little bad.
Dwight managed to quiet himself down a little bit after a moment. He hoped Bryce hadn’t heard him chanting like that— It was just so hard to stay silent when his bladder was being so agonizingly loud! Every scream from his bladder filled his chest and throat with horrid, massive pulses of pure need. ‘I have to goooo,’ he thought miserably. ‘Come on! Just do it! You’ve done it so many times! Why are you so nervous?!’
But, of course, Dwight KNEW why he was so nervous. He just didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t even want to let those thoughts enter into his head, because then he’d have to confront them. He had to endure this, even as his bladder shouted and yelled that he had to empty it NOW.
When he looked back, Bryce was staring at him and his body went tense with embarrassment— Which made all the muscles around his bladder pull taut and squeeze it just as ferociously as his belt already was. “Smith— Um— Dwight… Are you alright?” Bryce asked him.
Dwight waited a moment, anticipating the requisite “Not that I care!” which Bryce was sure to tack onto the end of the sentence.
It didn’t come…
“Um… H—How much longer until my break?” Dwight asked. “I am… Hungry,” he decided.
Bryce looked at his watch, his bladder crunched in with dismay as he said “About two more hours…”
‘Two more hours…’ Dwight repeated to himself. ‘How the Hell does Kenneth last until his break every, single day!? I’m going to burst!’ The thought of the wait ahead of him stretched out into an endless sea of desperation, his bladder spasmed hard and a pulse of urgency flared at the base of his cock just before a tiny spurt emerged into his boxers. He bent forward at the waist, panicked as he grabbed at himself for a second. Ohhh, he had to go! He stemmed the leak, but the rest still wanted out so badly! Oh God, Oh God…
“Dwight…” Bryce said. And again, he asked “Are you alright?”
“F—Fine,” Dwight said, his voice hoarse. He couldn’t tell Bryce he had to go, then he’d have to tell Bryce why he didn’t WANT to do it in front of him, and then he may even have to… To name the feeling! He couldn’t pee in front of Bryce, and he couldn’t tell Bryce why, which meant he just couldn’t pee. But, his bladder was searingly full, a harsh edgy tension right at the cusp of his opening, screaming at him that he couldn’t NOT pee, either.
The stress ignited a blaze of burning, furious desperation that was like a fiery coal being pressed into his lower stomach, much more intense than his bladder could tolerate in that moment. An angry blast of pee shoved its way past his defenses, a warm rush flowing down his length and trickling shamefully into his boxers.
With a panicked grunt, Dwight stuffed a hand into his pocket to squeeze his cock and stem the flow once more. His hips trembled, his legs twitched. He had to go so badly that his eyes were welling up! He couldn’t get a decent enough grip through the fabric of his pocket, and yet another jet of pee spritzed into his boxers, his crotch now feeling warm and sodden as he kept grinding his thighs together. He panicked and gripped himself properly and openly. His bladder throbbed at the hot dampness teasing the tip of his penis, dying to spray out everything else it still had inside. “Nnnh…” he groaned out, squeezing away like he’d been dying to for so long, clenching and clutching and bouncing.
Bryce stared at Dwight’s obvious pee-dancing, confusion swirling inside him and mixing with the desperation flaring through his lower half. He certainly hadn’t wanted to see Dwight GO while he was trying hard not to let himself do the same, but watching someone else fidget and writhe like that wasn’t helpful, either. Keeping his eyes on Dwight guaranteed that the only thoughts in his head were related to urinating, and to needing to do so very badly— And Bryce DIDN’T need to urinate very badly! He could hold it! He just… Really, really, really WANTED to urinate right now. That was completely different!
An order was on Bryce’s lips, he knew he was supposed to command Dwight to hold still right now. He knew he was supposed to bark at him to keep his hands by his sides, his shoulders back, his legs apart… He knew he was supposed to demand that Dwight stand PROPERLY. He WANTED to yell at Dwight to stop moving around like that, because all that squirming was so annoying! It was enough to make Bryce tap his feet, enough to make him wriggle his hips, enough to make him yearn to grab his own crotch and double over as his bladder sent him urgent pang after urgent pang!
But, Bryce found he was having an unusual amount of trouble yelling at Dwight right now. After everything he’d just told the other, it was hard to start shouting at him. So, instead of yelling, he softly asked; “Is there a reason that you don’t wanna piss in front of me all of the sudden?”
Even if Bryce hadn’t just ordered Dwight to go still, his words got him to do so anyway. Dwight suddenly froze in place. He straightened out a little as well, standing fully upright instead of folding over on himself as if he was trying to cradle his poor bladder. He didn’t release his hand from his dick, though. That would be too much for him to take. “I— Huh?”
“Normally you just whip it out and go,” Bryce reminded. “Sometimes you don’t even bother with giving me a warning or turning around first.” Many times, Dwight had just unzipped and let it flow without saying a word about it. Hell, if he and Bryce were mid-conversation, he’d just pull himself out and start pissing without so much as a break in his sentence. Dwight would be completely oblivious to Bryce’s blushing and the uncomfortable way his eyes would shift, unsure of what to look at after Dwight had just randomly exposed his cock.
The memories of those instances were the last things Bryce’s bladder needed now… The image of Dwight casually letting go without a care in the world, his stream noisily hissing away as he babbled on about whatever nonsense he’d been talking to Bryce about. It got all the liquid Bryce was holding onto now to start sloshing closer and closer against his spasming urethra. He didn’t want to see Dwight put on a repeat performance of all that right now, but Dwight was drenched in sweat in spite of the cool temperature and the fact that he’d barely moved for the last hour and a half. “Wh—What’s the problem today?” Bryce forced himself to ask.
“N—Nothing,” Dwight said. “There’s no problem. I just… Haven’t needed to go yet today, that’s all.”
“You were kinda mumbling about it earlier…”
“No, I was… Saying something else. I forget what. You must have misheard,” Dwight insisted. “I don’t have to go. Why? Do you have to pee? Did you wanna go together, or something?” He thought maybe his weird, confusing feels wouldn’t be as bad if they were BOTH peeing.
Bryce blushed hard and turned away. Could Dwight tell that he… Really WANTED to take a leak right now? He’d been trying SO hard not to let it be obvious! “Of course not,” he said. “I don’t have to pee, and why would I want to go WITH someone?” He shrugged. “I was only asking because you keep grabbing yourself.”
Dwight was STILL grabbing himself, he couldn’t deny that. He also couldn’t deny that, in spite of how TIGHTLY he was grabbing himself, it wasn’t doing very much beyond getting his fingers wet as more urine trickled out of him every few minutes. His boxers felt heavy and sodden now, and the crotch of his pants felt pretty damp as well. He was losing the battle, but he was losing it very, very slowly. “I told you earlier, I’m really itchy,” Dwight said. “Um… Everywhere.”
Bryce screwed up his face. “Well, in that case, could you TRY not to scratch… THERE when you’re around other people?”
Dwight blushed, “I’ll try.” And, he did. He tried his best to let go of his dick, but even easing up on his grip prompted a long, hot jet of piss to pump down his shaft and hiss into his boxers. He was peeing! He squeezed back down hard, and with a great deal of difficulty, he managed to stop the flood. It was brutal and painful, and it took every ounce of his strength to shut off his stream and keep the rest of his burden at bay. He could feel warm liquid trailing down his leg and he doubled over. Panicked, he looked up towards Bryce— His last leak had been audible and he hoped the other man hadn’t heard it.
Bryce HAD heard it, of course. He’d heard every drop of Dwight’s quick, little spill as it had sprayed against the material of his clothes. Nothing was worse for Bryce’s bladder than the sound of flowing liquid— And when that flowing liquid was PEE it was the absolute worst thing imaginable for him! Just as Dwight got ahold of himself and plugged up his latest leak, Bryce’s first loss of control tore out of him.
A horrific spasm punched through his bladder, Bryce ground his teeth together so hard he heard them scraping, he writhed, thighs tensing enough to start cramping and his back arched with pain. Suddenly, his bladder felt like a water balloon that was being smashed with a sledge-hammer, a sudden burst of pressure so intense that he almost yelped. Then, there was a sharp pinch at his opening, followed by a splash of piss pooling hot around his crotch. “Ah—!” he gasped out, crossing his legs and fighting against his natural urge to hold himself. Nothing else came out of his bladder, but the shaft of his dick was burning and his urethra stung…
Dwight was so caught up in his own desperation that Bryce’s didn’t register to him. Dwight’s middle felt like an over-ripe watermelon that was about to split wide open. The pain of shutting off that last leak had been like sending a torch up through his body. He tried to stand up further, but stretching out even a little got the urine inside him moving, rushing down, down, down against his overworked muscles, and drawing another long spurt through his piss hole, re-wetting his boxers which hadn’t even had a full minute to dry off from his last spill. “Nnnh!” he moaned, he clamped off his flow yet again, but it was torturous.
‘Just PEE, you idiot!’ Bryce thought with irritation. If Dwight just STOPPED moving like that, if he STOPPED filling Bryce’s brain with the power of suggestion, then Bryce would be FINE. He wouldn’t want to go so much anymore!
Being forced to watch Dwight lose it like that was making Bryce feel like… Like… Ah, like maybe he didn’t just WANT to pee after all! Maybe he… Maybe he actually really, really NEEDED to pee! Maybe he really, really needed to pee right NOW!
His bladder certainly agreed with THAT idea, and just to punish Bryce for taking so long to admit that to himself, it convulsed and ejected a thick, warm stream down his leg that was utterly PAINFUL to cut off. Bryce took a few steadying breaths, but everything hurt so bad now that he COULDN’T calm down. He was so out of his mind from the need that he even considered DELIBERATELY letting a little more out into his pants to relieve some of the pressure so that he could hopefully last until his break. But, he knew better than to go through with that plan. He knew that if he gave his bladder permission to empty— Even just a tiny bit— He wouldn’t be able to wrench control back again. He’d drench himself totally if he offered his body even the briefest respite, so he had to hold it ALL.
Which now meant that he had to HOLD himself, he blushed with shame as his hand made contact with his groin, but he couldn’t help it! If he didn’t have some kind of cork down there to plug himself closed, he was going to burst! Besides, Dwight was too preoccupied to notice where Bryce’s hand went, anyway!
Dwight was squeezing himself with BOTH hands now, but even with the extra reinforcement kneading against his crotch, it didn’t feel like enough. ‘I have to go!’ he mentally whined. ‘I can’t hold it! I need to go! I need to pee! I need to go so bad! I can’t wait! I’m gonna burst! I need to pee! Please, please, please, I need to go right now! Please!’
He was pleading with HIMSELF. He knew he was being utterly ridiculous! He’d peed in front of Bryce SO many times. Bryce had SEEN his dick before, sometimes without even any warning that it was about to be pulled out. Bryce had seen his ass before too, that morning in the woods. Bryce had seen him shirtless. Bryce KNEW what Dwight looked like naked, he had NOTHING to hide from him, no reason to feel so self-conscious and bashful!
‘Just because you held his hand,’ Dwight thought. ‘You’d touched his hand before that night. Why does it matter that you did it again? Just because cuddling with two people that you care a lot about made you feel… Really funny, that’s no reason to break your bladder. Just go right here, like you always do!’ He reached for his belt again, then panicked and returned his hands to his crotch instead.
Bryce continued to watch as Dwight writhed and trembled, every squirm from the other man sent his bladder into needy convulsions and made his legs twist together even tighter against the massive flood that kept threatening to blast out like a waterfall at any second. Another spurt dribbled from his tip, and he was no longer sure if the dampness he felt around his thighs was made of sweat or of urine. He looked at his watch, half an hour until their break, and he was getting very scared that he wouldn’t make it. His bladder HURT now, it was engorged and on fire, filled with stinging misery. “Dwight…?” Bryce asked. “Are y—you sure you don’t have to go?”
“I’m sure…” Dwight muttered, aware of how ridiculous his claim was. His leaks were getting longer, happening much more frequently, and becoming even harder to stop. Every time he forced his flow to cease, the sensation of his relief being taken away would be so painful that he’d inevitably start trickling again a moment later.
“B… Because…” Bryce continued. There was a feeling of pulling inside him, all throughout his body. There was the feeling of his urine being pulled down towards his exit, of course. But, there was another pulling inside his chest, one that confused him and somehow hurt even worse than the desperate, urgent pulling inside his abdomen. “Um… If YOU have to pee… There’s about th—thirty minutes now until our break, and… Um… I don’t know if I can… I probably can’t hold it that long. I… I… I need to pee. I need to pee really, really bad.”
Dwight looked up to stare at him, shocked that Bryce would admit that he NEEDED to pee, instead of just saying that he WANTED to. Shocked that Bryce would admit that he needed to do it so badly that he didn’t think he could hold it anymore! “You—“
“And… It REALLY looks like you have to go, too,” Bryce added. “I don’t understand. Why haven’t you just… Done it, like you usually do?”
Dwight winced and looked away. “B—Because it feels… Weird.”
Bryce couldn’t tell Dwight that it SHOULDN’T have felt weird. As far as he was concerned, Dwight’s habit of taking his dick out and pissing without even thinking about finding a private spot, telling whoever he was with that he was about to go, or pausing in conversation first WAS really weird. Bryce just thought it was pretty LATE for Dwight to suddenly be feeling that way about it himself. “You do it all the time, though,” he pointed out. “Hell, sometimes I worry about standing too close to you when we’re outside because I never know when you’re gonna start peeing everywhere.” That last part was a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much.
“It feels weird NOW,” Dwight said. “B—Because of…”
“Were you… Did you wake up when we were holding hands, too?” Bryce guessed. “Did THAT make you feel strange?”
“Yes…” Dwight admitted. “You noticed, too?”
“I did,” Bryce said. “It made me feel… Um, did it make you feel good or bad?”
“… Good,” Dwight said. “Especially because…”
“Because Kenneth was between us…?”
Dwight went still for the first time in ages.
“I heard you and Kenneth in the restroom that night,” Bryce said. “Heard you… Saying that you loved each—“
“Bryce, please—“
“Dwight, it’s okay,” Bryce said. “I promise. I won’t tell anybody. Even if you both really tick me off someday, I still won’t tell. I—“ he felt a drop of urine beading on his tip. “I— I won’t tell,” he repeated. “I just— Ah— I have to go so bad!”
“So do I!” Dwight nodded frantically. “I’m gonna burst! I’ll DIE if I don’t go!”
There, that was more like what Bryce was used to; Dwight vocally gasping out his desperate need for relief, not denying that he was seconds away from exploding… But, he still wasn’t ACTUALLY going like Bryce expected. “And, it’s fine that you liked holding my hand,” he added. “I… Okay, I… Didn’t mind it, either. It shouldn’t make you f—feel weird about peeing around me. You piss around Kenneth, don't you?”
“Of course I do,” Dwight said.
“Okay, so can you go now?” Bryce stomped his feet. “Can WE go? I’m… I’m absolutely bursting.”
“You want to go together?” Dwight guessed.
“Well… I guess. Not like I can wait for you to finish right now,” Bryce said, but his tone wasn’t as reluctant as his words were. “Ah— Gotta…” he quickly unbuckled his belt and unzipped, he parted his legs and aimed into the dirt, a few dribbles beading up from his tip and slowly flowing down as he fought to keep holding on. “Hur—Hurry,” Bryce pleaded. “It’s about to come out!” As if to agree with him, an eager burst of urine splashed against the ground. “Hurry!” he repeated.
Dwight WAS hurrying, he needed to go so badly that seeing Bryce lose control of those little spurts was almost too much for him! He unzipped and stood beside Bryce, finally relaxing his aching muscles and allowing the ocean trapped inside of him to blast out in a highly pressurized spray. “Mmmmm…” he hummed blissfully through his nose. “Better…”
Bryce let go as well, and immediately the sensations taking place within him were something that went beyond mere relief. It was bliss, it was wonderful, it was amazing, it was just… So, so good. His eyes shut a little and his lips parted as he panted with pure, utter contentment. “Ah—Ah— Ahhhhhhh….” his swollen, firm bladder finally started to shrink as his desperation started to replace itself with comfortable emptiness.
After a few more seconds of simply urinating in relative silence, Dwight flinched as he recalled a part of their conversation. “Y—You heard… You heard Kenneth and I—“
“Hahhh,” Bryce moaned, trying to catch his breath so he could respond. He usually detested having a conversation while he urinated, but this was too important. “I already said, I’m not telling anyone. I PROMISE. You don’t have to worry.”
“And… You liked holding my hand?” Dwight asked, shivering slightly as his body continued to eject each and every drop of liquid it had within it.
“I didn’t MIND it,” Bryce corrected. He was a little surprised by how talking like this hadn’t interrupted his flow. Usually, trying to speak and pee at the same time didn’t work so well for him, he’d lose concentration and start subconsciously holding it again. Not this time though. Maybe he’d just needed to piss so badly today that he didn’t HAVE to concentrate on getting it out. “I didn’t MIND it,” he repeated. “Like… Like holding onto Kenneth. I didn’t MIND it, but I… I definitely didn’t ENJOY it, or anything.”
Dwight went quiet for a second, continuing to enjoy his release. Wow, he’d really, REALLY needed this one. He hadn’t had to pee THAT bad since the day he’d tried to make himself wait until after Kenneth peed… Because he’d gotten jealous over Bryce cuddling him after a nightmare. He still really wished Kenneth had gotten HIM up for that, then HE could have been the one to hold him… Or BOTH of them could have—
No. Stop it. Those thoughts were too confusing! He needed to get rid of them!
“Bryce…” Dwight began.
Bryce sighed, but it sounded more irritated than relieved. “Dwight. I’m trying to GO, remember?”
“Doesn’t look like you’re having any trouble,” Dwight said. “You’re managing.”
“Ah, no, don’t look!” Bryce scolded. Then, for reasons he couldn’t understand, HE immediately broke his own rule when his eyes flicked over to Dwight’s cock and the stream jetting out of it.
“And it’s just…” Dwight continued. “You mean it? You’re not… Mad about Kenneth and I? You were okay with the… The hand thing, and holding Kenneth, and—“
“It’s FINE,” Bryce emphasized. “I promise. I can… I can PROVE it, too. I’m going to… Tell you something.” He felt his stream starting to taper off, his bladder just about drained. “It’s just… Look, you can’t tell ANYBODY about this. Ever,” Bryce said seriously. “Not even Paulson, you have to promise me.”
“O—Okay, I promise.” Dwight assured, he pushed down on his pelvic muscles a bit, releasing the final few spurts from his bladder before zipping up.
“Good,” Bryce took several steadying breaths as he too finished peeing— A massive shiver ripping up his spine once the last of his burden was gone. He zipped his pants and awkwardly fiddled with his glasses. “It’s… Okay. I… Sometimes I go to… This one place in town, it’s sort of like a secret club. People go there to… Explore things that they can’t other places,” he was unsure how much to share about that club. He had no intention of telling Dwight— Or anyone outside the club for that matter— that he enjoyed the feeling of submitting all control to another person, that he liked being tied down, immobilized and toyed with using clamps, whips and paddles. Dwight most definitely did not need to know about THAT.
“What kind of stuff?”
“Um…” Bryce lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “Lots of things. Things that would be frowned on outside. Casual… Experimentation, I suppose is what you’d call it. Nothing serious just… Exploration. I generally am with a woman when I go there, sometimes multiple at once… I have… I have been with men a couple times as well, and sometimes I have been with both at the same time.”
Dwight couldn’t believe his ears. He struggled to imagine the tight-laced, rule-enforcing man engaging in activities like the ones he was describing. “What?!”
“You can’t tell ANYBODY,” Bryce emphasized. “And, I’m not telling you where this club is, a lot of people will be in a lot of trouble if—“
“It’s okay, Bryce,” Dwight said. “I don’t care what you do for fun. I’m just surprised, that’s all. I thought you liked Elizabeth.”
Bryce blushed. “I do,” he admitted. “I really do. Like I said, the stuff at the club, it’s all just casual, it’s not like having a relationship. It’s just meant to be a place to enjoy yourself and forget about things for a few hours before you have to go back to your regular life. Half the people there probably don’t even use their real names— I know I don’t.”
“So, you like men?” Dwight asked.
“Shhhh!” Bryce hissed, even though no one was around to overhear. “I— I don’t know if I’d call it that. Most of the times I was with a man, I’d been… Wanting to try something, and the other people interested were men, so that’s who I went with. Like I said, mostly I always end up with women.”
“But, did you… Feel anything for the men?” Dwight asked.
Bryce blushed and looked away. “Wh—Why does that matter?”
“I’m sorry, I’m just sort of confused because I see people that I think are good looking, and sometimes they’re men and sometimes they’re women, and I like Kenneth more than I’ve ever liked anybo—“
“I—I’ve found some of the men there… Interesting, yes,” Bryce muttered. “And the women,” he added quickly. “A—And… Um… There was this one… Other person there…”
“Someone you liked more than casually?”
“No, that’s not it…” Bryce ran a hand through his hair, unsure of how to explain this. “They were… I’ve seen them there a few times. The first time, they were in a dress so I thought ‘that’s a woman’, but their hair was so short, it made me think ‘man’. The next time, they were wearing a suit, so I thought ‘man’, but they had on a lot of make-up; lipstick, eye-liner, like a woman. I’m not sure what they are.”
“What’s their name?” Dwight asked. He’d never seen anyone and been unable to guess if they were a boy or a girl before, he HAD gotten it wrong a couple times in the past and realized it once he’d heard the person’s name, though.
“They said it was just ‘V’,” Bryce said. “And that didn’t help. Like I told you, lots of people there don’t use their real names. I actually asked once if they were a man or a woman, and they just said ‘I’m an experience.’ So, I have no idea what that meant, but whatever they are, I think they’re… Really good-looking and interesting.”
“Have you… Done anything with them?”
“Once,” Bryce said. “V left their clothes on the whole time, they said that’s a rule for being with them— Oh, at the club, everybody kind of lists out rules they have, so if there’s something you absolutely NEVER want to try, everyone will know not to ask. And getting naked is the only thing V says ‘no’ to.”
“You go there all the time?”
“I try to go at least once a month if there’s time,” Bryce said. “It’s hard to get a chance to, though. And, I need to be really careful going in and coming out, in case it’s ever discovered I don’t want anyone to be able to say that I was in there… So, that’s why you really can’t tell anybody about this.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” Dwight said. “Promise.”
“Okay,” Bryce nodded. “So, see? We both have big secrets. I trust you to keep mine, so you can trust me to keep yours, right?”
Their break came a few minutes later and, surprisingly, they spent it together, continuing to talk. For the remainder of the day, Dwight didn’t shy away from peeing in front of Bryce. Sometimes, Bryce even went alongside him. Both were far more comfortable in so many ways.
That night, Bryce struggled a bit to fall asleep. Because, he actually had a couple more ‘big secrets’ that he HADN’T told Dwight about today. He’d admitted that he hadn’t minded cuddling with Kenneth in bed, and that hadn’t been a lie.
He’d LOVED it.
And, when he’d talked to Dwight about the hand-holding, he’d made it sound like he too had just woken up and found their hands entwined— And he was grateful that his bladder had been so full when he’d said it, otherwise he may have struggled to keep a straight face.
Because, Bryce’s hand hadn’t joined Dwight’s purely by accident while they’d slept. Bryce had grasped it deliberately, and then hadn’t wanted to let it go. |
Dwight stood in front of the toilet, his bladder aching with need and his holding muscles burning with the effort of impeding what was sure to be a massive flood. But, that was the problem, his holding muscles didn’t HAVE to try to restrain his liquid. He was, after all, in front of a toilet. He was staring at the very answer to his problem, staring at the gateway to relief.
His zipper was down and he’d been aiming himself at the toilet for the past several minutes now, telling himself over and over that it was time to STOP holding his bladder so that he could relax and feel comfortable for the remainder of this very, very long train journey.
His pee didn’t want to listen to him, though. His pee seemed perfectly content to continue straining away in his rock-hard bladder, stretching its walls further and further until the need to let them collapse and squeeze became so overwhelming that Dwight couldn’t help but whine to himself. “Pleeeeeaaaase… This isn’t fair! I have to go so bad!”
His bladder showed him no pity, didn’t ease its tension even slightly.
Dwight had some idea of what was going on, this wasn’t his first time having trouble urinating while on-board a train. He knew that the need to constantly pay attention to his balance, and the ever-present awareness of something moving beneath his feet was causing his body to clamp up more than it usually would. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it was a very, very BAD time for it to be happening.
This was the longest train ride he’d ever been on. On their way back from a speech, Bryce had insisted on taking a train that WOULDN’T be making any stops before reaching their destination. Dwight had protested a little, reminding Bryce that he’d had a lot of water during the speech and likely wouldn’t be able to wait so long without a stop. But, Bryce told him it would be fine since THIS train HAD a toilet that he could use.
Except, Dwight couldn’t actually use it…
As he rocked from foot to foot, he placed a hand over his abdomen and squeezed down as hard as he could bear it. “Ouch!” he exclaimed as pressure radiated out from beneath the cruel, unforgiving weight of his own palm. A burning sensation seared down his length, but it stopped a fraction of a millimeter before his opening, his urine failing to break free. “Come onnnnn….”
This was not his first attempt at relieving himself during this ride. It was his fourth. And, each time, he grew more frustrated and agonized when his bladder refused to give up its contents. Every time he stood up and hobbled his way down here, he’d be thinking ‘It’s gotta work THIS time! I need to go SO bad, there’s no WAY it won’t come out now!’ And, every time he’d be met with cruel disappointment when the bouncing and shuddering below his feet rendered him incapable of loosening up enough to pee.
Finally, Dwight gave up yet again, telling himself that he actually COULD hold it until they reached their destination. He zipped his pants and exited the restroom, finding Bryce standing beside the door with a confused look on his face. “The Hell were you doing in there? What was with all the muttering?”
“I was just trying to pee…” Dwight mumbled.
“Okay…” Bryce shrugged, entering the restroom himself.
Dwight went back to his seat and the instant he was sat beside Kenneth, he was scissoring his legs and trying to push his belt away from his swollen bladder— He’d never make it through the rest of the ride with something squishing him like that! “Nnnh…” he whimpered.
Kenneth wore an expression that was just as confused as Bryce’s. “Dwight, what’s wrong?”
“I really, really need to go,” Dwight informed, uncrossing his legs and then tying them back together in the opposite direction.
“I thought you just did,” Kenneth said.
“I didn’t,” Dwight said. “I… I can’t go when we’re moving…” he whispered.
“Oh…” Kenneth said. “Is it because you’re scared about falling over? Why don’t you just sit down instead, then?”
Dwight frowned, tapping a hand against one of his jiggling knees. That was such an obvious solution, he was annoyed with himself for not coming up with it sooner. “I… I didn’t think of that,” he admitted. “I’ll do that once Bryce gets back.” Dwight hoped that happened soon. His bladder was really throbbing now, as if it were trying to punish him for being too stupid to remember that he could always just sit down for a piss if he needed to.
Pulses of need flashed and flared around his urethra, the small ring of muscles holding back his flood were shaking beneath the tremendous weight of his bladder. He gritted his teeth and hissed a pained noise out between them.
Kenneth put a hand to his friend’s shoulder. “It’s alright, it doesn’t usually take Bryce THAT long to pee.”
Sure enough, Bryce had returned a minute later, taking his spot across from the other two. He quirked a brow. “Smith, I thought you relieved yourself two minutes ago? Do I need to alert the medics that you are having trouble with your bla—“
“N—No!” Dwight insisted. “I just— Drank a lot of water, that’s all. Nothing’s wrong.” He stood eagerly, now absolutely POSITIVE that there really would be nothing wrong in a few minutes. He was definitely going to be able to pee THIS time!
The walk back TO the restroom wasn’t easy. It had grown more and more difficult through the day. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, his fingers longing to curl around his dick and plug his bladder closed— He didn’t care about making his desperation obvious to the strangers on the train with him, but if Bryce saw him clutching himself and dancing like a child in front of so many on-lookers, he’d doubtlessly receive a scolding. “Smith, you are making us all look bad!” he could already hear Bryce complain. “Put your hands back by your sides! There is no need to grab yourself like that when you are so close to a toilet!”
Dwight pushed down the aisle, his knees pinched in so close they rubbed together. Every step shook his bladder, knocking his urine up and down and sloshing it against his exhausted holding muscles. Worsening his problem, he could feel the train jolting along too, and every bump sent his bladder soaring up into his throat.
At last, he’d made it back to the restroom door. He threw himself inside and shakily locked it with one hand while the other took apart his clothing. He pulled down his pants and sat on the toilet seat, breathing heavily with tension, need and anticipation. He HAD to go now, he just absolutely HAD to!
Of course, it wasn’t that easy.
Even with the danger of falling flat on his face into the toilet removed, Dwight could STILL feel the train shaking all around him. Every time he felt himself starting to go a little slack, there would be a new, harsher jolt that tightened him all the way back up again. Each time, he’d whimper and fight back a loud groan of pain. It was pure torture to repeatedly feel himself on the very brink of peeing, just for his body to take the relief away from him at the last possible second!
“Come on…” Dwight begged quietly under his breath. “Come on… Come on… I need to go really bad!” He smoothed a hand down his lower abdomen, once more only managing to put himself in even more awful pain without coaxing out even a drop of his liquid in the process.
“I can’t hold it…” he moaned. But, he realized that wasn’t quite the problem. The problem was instead the exact opposite; the problem was that he COULD hold it, but he just really, really didn’t want to because it hurt so badly to carry on having so much urine stored inside himself.
He wondered if Bryce had managed to pee in here a few minutes ago. The other man had looked perfectly content when he’d returned, content enough to make fun of Dwight, even. He must have gone… What was his secret? How had HE gotten his bladder to unclench in spite of all the bounciness when Dwight couldn’t? Dwight could usually pee ANYWHERE, if anyone should be able to urinate on a train, it should have been him! This was horridly unfair!
He tried to take some deep breaths. He was getting himself worked up. He’d never pee if he got too frustrated!
He knew he’d now been in here far longer than a pee should ever take, and embarrassment flushed through his cheeks. Bryce was probably wondering what was taking him so long… Maybe some of the other passengers had noticed too… This must have been how Kenneth felt every time HE had trouble going, Dwight realized. This sense that everyone had picked up on how long he’d been in the restroom for, and was speculating as to what the Hell his problem was.
If that was indeed what Kenneth thought about whenever his bladder locked up, Dwight was sure that was a good indication that it WASN’T a good thing to think about. Worrying that someone else was judging him wasn’t going to make it any easier for Dwight to pee, so he had to stop focusing on that idea.
He knew he ought to give up and return to his seat so that Bryce didn’t yell at him, at the very least. But now, the thought of leaving this room un-relieved, trudging back to his spot with his bladder still brimming, trying to endure the rest of the ride when he felt like he was going to be ripped apart… It made him shudder. He was on the toilet, and had every intention to STAY there until he had an empty bladder.
Yes. That was a good plan. He’d just stay here however long it took. That was much safer than returning to his seat and risking getting both it and his pants terribly wet. He knew his bladder wouldn’t last until the end of the trip, it WOULD break apart and start gushing eventually. Sooner or later, Dwight was going to be uncontrollably peeing. But, if he stayed right here on the toilet until it happened, then at least he’d be uncontrollably peeing into the right place.
And, ohhh… That was going to feel just so wonderful… He could hardly wait for that sudden snap to come from within himself, his exhausted muscles breaking down and giving way to the torrent that had been overflowing inside him for so long… He fantasized about that until he swore he could actually feel the relief, could feel his bladder loosening and letting go—
But then, it all stopped. Once more, his urine had very nearly released, but something had corked him shut at the last possible second and returned him to his misery.
No matter. He’d just sit here a while longer, then. Just, however long it took for the weight inside his middle to get too heavy for him to handle.
He adjusted his position on the seat, trying to get more comfortable. But, of course, no comfortable position existed for him anymore He was too full for any twist or turn to make him even the least bit more relaxed. And, once he’d started squirming, he couldn’t stop. He kept shifting his knees and crossing his ankles, aware of how ridiculous it all was. He was pee-dancing while sitting on a toilet with his pants around his ankles!
He told himself to STOP all the fidgeting, his urine certainly wasn’t going to come out if he kept twitching and jiggling like he wanted it to stay in! He’d been doing such a good job of sitting still all this time, too! One little motion had been all it took to get his body writhing uncontrollably.
“Nnnh…” Dwight whined, miserable. He couldn’t believe Kenneth felt this kind of thing every day… Just this one time was driving Dwight crazy! He just… He just had to be patient. He just had to wait. It would come out eventually. It HAD to come out eventually.
Tap, tap, tap!
And then there was a knock on the door, and Dwight’s squirming finally ceased as he froze up. He hadn’t exactly factored THIS possibility into his plan! But, he should have! Of COURSE someone else would need to use this toilet at some point! “J—Just a minute!” he called back. He shut his eyes tight and tried to push down on his pelvic muscles, trying to FORCE his stream to come out rather than coax his body into relaxing.
This only made it worse, however. Tension made his spine ache, and his bladder pulse, and his pee felt even less likely to emerge than ever before. ‘Think of oceans,’ he begged himself. ‘Think of rivers. Think of… Think of how good it will feel to pee! Think of how bad you just need to let it out! Please, please, please just let me pee!’
Another, heavier bounce of the train made him jump, made his floodgates slam shut and LOCK painfully.
Tap, tap, TAP!
More knocking, sounding MUCH less patient.
“I—In a minute!” Dwight repeated. “Just—“
“I have a kid,” said a voice from the other side of the door. “It’s an emergency. Could you PLEASE hurry up?”
Dwight winced. He wasn’t getting ANYWHERE. As bad as he wanted to stay and keep trying, his bladder had made it VERY clear that he was going to have to HOLD IT. And, he didn’t want to be partially responsible for a little kid having an accident, so he forced himself to stand and pull up his pants. He zipped them and washed his hands off quickly before opening the door. “S—Sorry,” he said, ducking his head and rushing back down the aisle.
Ohhhh… This was so bad! He realized how horrible the decision he just made was the moment he’d started to walk! The pulsing need radiating in waves from beneath his buttons and zipper was beyond painful. And, to add insult to injury, when he took his seat beside Kenneth he felt the first panicked burst of urine wetting the inside of his boxers. Panicked, he tensed his thighs together and crossed his ankles, forcing the flow to stop.
‘God dammit! Why didn’t you do that when I was on the toilet!?’ Dwight cursed his body, hands immediately tugging at his belt before he gave up and just unclasped it.
Relief flowed over him immediately now that the tight, constricting thing was out of his way.
Bryce watched him do this and sighed. “I know we are off duty, but you really MUST still keep your belt on.”
Dwight shook his head back and forth frantically. It felt so much better to have it off! He couldn’t put it back on! He’d explode! He’d die!
“Ugh… Fine,” Bryce sighed. “But, when we arrive you are going to make yourself presentable.”
Dwight nodded, and hoped he’d be able to do that. He was picturing himself forcing the belt back across his bladder, then immediately bolting through the door and to the train station’s restroom for a VERY much needed piss. Could he handle that without coming apart?
Kenneth gave him a concerned glance. “You okay…?” he asked.
“M—Motion sick,” Dwight said. That was… Sort of the truth. He couldn’t piss because of the motion of the train, and he was so desperate to go that he now felt nauseas.
“Really?” Kenneth asked, surprised. Normally, it was Bryce that got ill on long train rides. Dwight’s stomach was practically made of titanium… Kenneth supposed that explained why he didn’t want to wear his belt, must not have felt good to have it pressing into his upset stomach.
Unless, maybe he still hadn’t been able to—
“Smith,” Bryce said. “I swear, you look like you need to piss AGAIN. Do you have the bladder of a chihuahua, or what?”
Dwight shook his head again. “I—I’m fine!” he promised. “Just dizzy… I’m not used to being on a train for this long.”
Bryce nodded slowly. “Oh… You know, I’ve never seen you get sick before.”
Kenneth sighed and glared at Bryce. It sounded less like he was CONCERNED for Dwight and more like he was just interested in seeing what happened when Dwight’s stomach actually didn’t cooperate for once.
“Well, I mean… I’ve seen you get a cold before,” Bryce added. “But, I’ve never seen you throw up. Even though you eat disgusting stuff like caramelized anchovies and—“
“Bryce!” Kenneth snapped. “If Dwight isn’t feeling good, you shouldn’t talk about food. Do you WANT him to get sicker?”
“Well, no, but—“
“Besides, you throw up enough for ALL of us. Remember the time you vomited on The Leader’s shoes?”
Bryce went quiet, blushing. “I— It’s not like I meant to do that…”
They continued to sit in silence for a few minutes, Dwight resuming his squirming and bouncing. Kenneth watched him fidget and didn’t think it really LOOKED like his stomach was the issue. Bryce’s first guess— That Dwight simply had to urinate— seemed a lot more likely. So, then he HADN’T been able to use the toilet here even after sitting down? Why was he being so defensive about it with Bryce? Dwight had told Kenneth that he couldn’t pee on a moving vehicle right away, without a second thought. But he felt too embarrassed to say the very same thing to Bryce?
Kenneth thought back to the one other time Dwight had struggled to go on a train. Kenneth had just held him and helped him relax, the same way Dwight did it for him all the time. Kenneth was sure that would work again today, but if Dwight didn’t ADMIT to the issue and ask for help…
Kenneth just had to come up with a different way to get Dwight to come to the restroom with him; One that wouldn’t require his friend to tell Bryce something that apparently embarrassed him too greatly.
Kenneth knew ONE way to accomplish that, but the thought was making him blush. He didn’t particularly WANT to do this when he didn’t ACTUALLY need to pee, but he couldn’t think of anything else!
Kenneth cringed and told himself to start crossing his legs and gripping his crotch, as though he was on the edge of an accident. But, he froze as soon as he’d moved one of his feet to hook it around the other. He didn’t need to needlessly humiliate himself quite THAT much…
He raised a hand to his mouth and chomped down on one of his knuckles. His face crumpled up with pain as his teeth sank into the sensitive skin. ‘What the— How have I never noticed how bad it hurts to DO this?!’ he thought. When he chewed his fingers because he ACTUALLY had to pee, he didn’t even FEEL it! He’d sometimes notice they were a bit sore after he’d relieved himself, but that was always it!
A bit of dread welled inside him then as the only possible explanation dawned on him. The fullness of his bladder was generally so painful that it overpowered all other stimuli, so of course he didn’t notice that it hurt to chew his hands…
Kenneth froze for a second, waiting for Bryce or Dwight to comment on his ‘desperation’. But, neither of them did…
Kenneth winced. He was going to have to KEEP biting. He nibbled on his fingers, his own teeth dragging against his skin and making him start to squirm with discomfort. That was probably a GOOD thing, though. The others were more likely to figure out he ‘really, really had to pee’ if he was getting fidgety…
Bryce glanced up for a moment, then reached to tap one of Dwight’s bouncing knees. “Uh… Smith? he said quietly. “I think Paulson… Um… Needs your assistance at the moment…”
Dwight looked to his side, saw Kenneth chewing his hands and stomping his feet. Oh…
Dwight didn’t WANT to do this. He didn’t want to have to take Kenneth to the restroom, try to hold still and impart ‘calm’ into him for a few minutes, then listen to him moan and moan and moan overtop the ear-splitting hiss of his stream…
Kenneth needed him, though. Dwight wouldn’t be so cruel as to make BOTH of them suffer and hold it in just because HE couldn’t go right now.
“O—Oh,” Dwight said. “I am sorry, Kenneth. I wasn’t paying attention… You can TELL me, you know?”
Kenneth plucked the hand from his mouth, his fingers THROBBING. “I— I know…” he said softly. “Hurry, please?”
Dwight forced himself to his wobbly feet. His bladder thrashed and rushed downwards. For a moment, he was hit with the insane urge to just LET it happen; To allow his pee to gush down his legs and puddle beneath his feet, a broad grin stretching across his face as the relief overpowered him.
But, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t humiliate himself so thoroughly in public. And he also found that he STILL couldn’t actually GO. The horrid pressure wailed through him, and he felt for a moment like he was going to pee where he stood whether he wanted to or not, but then it all stopped and he was left with nothing but pain yet again. “L—Let’s go, Kenneth…” Dwight said.
Dwight trailed behind his friend down the aisle. He was glad that Kenneth seemed to walking pretty well. He certainly must have needed the toilet badly if he was biting his fingers, but at least he hadn’t forced himself to wait until he was so full he could barely maneuver in a straight line.
Dwight HAD waited that long though. He kept needing to pause mid stride to cross his legs and grab himself— To Hell with who saw, and to Hell with what Bryce said about it! He NEEDED the minuscule bit of relief the pressure of his palms gave him!
They made it to the restroom door and Dwight felt sweat rush down his forehead at the sight of it, and the memory of all his failed trips here throughout the day. “G—Go in,” Dwight said. “You first, it’s a small room…” He flinched, recalling Kenneth’s claustrophobia. THAT was going to make it even HARDER for Dwight to soothe him into a state of urination… “Sorry. I’ll be right there the whole time, though.”
“You first,” Kenneth said.
“I know, tight spaces scare you, but YOU’RE the one that needs to be in front of the—“
“You need to go a LOT more than I do,” Kenneth whispered, careful not to be overheard.
“H—Huh?”
“You weren’t able to go earlier, I can tell,” Kenneth said. “And you’re too embarrassed to tell Bryce that for some reason, but—“
“I— I—“ Dwight whimpered and doubled over. “Kenneth, I feel like I’m gonna explode…”
“I’ll help you relax,” Kenneth said. “Same as you do for me. So, you go in first… And sit down, I think you’ll be less scared of falling that way, right?”
“Y—Yeah…” Dwight was picturing it already. Him sitting on the toilet with his pants all the way down… Kenneth rubbing him while… While looking directly into his eyes because he’d be facing forwards… “But—“
“I want you to feel better, there’s still about two hours left in this ride… You need to—“
“Okay…” Dwight said, heading in. Kenneth would realize how awkward this was gonna be for himself soon enough.
Kenneth waited about a minute, giving Dwight time to pull his pants down and take a seat, and allowing anyone who saw Dwight enter enough time to assume he’d left before Kenneth went in.
Kenneth closed the door behind himself and locked it. Dwight was right, this room was TINY, and sharing it with another person didn’t help… He half hoped that Dwight had managed to go by himself after all so that he could leave this room, but Dwight was still seated on the toilet, squirming and looking absolutely agonized.
“I’ll help,” Kenneth said softly, taking a tiny half step closer to him and placing his hands atop his shoulders to rub them gently. He blushed as he found himself looking Dwight in the eyes. “Eheh… Guess normally when we do this… You’re just seeing the back of my head, right?”
Dwight was blushing furiously as well. “Y—Yeah…”
Kenneth felt strange looking so intently at Dwight’s face as they did this. He saw a bunch of different emotions flit through his friend’s eyes, most of them filled with pain. His eyes were watery, welling up with tears. “Kenneth, I really, really have to go…” Dwight told him, for lack of anything better to say.
“I know,” Kenneth said. “You’re just nervous right now…” He stroked Dwight some more. “Shhh…. It’s okay…”
Dwight shifted on the seat, his bladder hurt… He couldn’t remember the last time he’d needed to go this badly! In the past, he always either gave up and relieved himself in the closest place that could MAYBE be considered acceptable if he squinted, or his bladder had enough and he had an accident! Having NEITHER of those things happen yet, with TWO MORE HOURS of waiting stretching out in front of him, was downright frightening. “Kenneth, I think I’m gonna die…” he said.
“Shhh…” Kenneth gently smoothed a hand across Dwight’s chest. “It’s alright. You won’t DIE from needing to pee… Hell, I don’t think even I can die from needing to pee, and you’ve seen how bad it gets for me. You’re not THAT bad off yet. Your middle is only a tiny bit swollen, you’ll be okay.”
Dwight knew Kenneth was trying to comfort him by saying that, but it really just made his heart clench. Dwight was in so much pain he felt like it might cause a sudden aneurism or something, yet he STILL wasn’t feeling what Kenneth felt when he was nearing the limit of what he could handle? What in the world DID it feel like when Kenneth desperately had to piss? Like being put through every single medieval torture device at once?!
“It’s alright,” Kenneth repeated. “I promi—“ The train started to turn, and Kenneth toppled forwards so that he was now resting partially in Dwight’s lap. “Whoa! Sorry!” He started to pick himself back up again, then paused.
He was now looking UP at Dwight’s face, at the pink flush to his cheeks and the sweat tinging his forehead… At the parting of his raw, bitten lips… “Um…” Kenneth dropped his voice to the tiniest whisper he’d ever emitted. ‘What if someone’s RIGHT on the other side of the door?!’ his fretful mind suggested. ‘Don’t!’
“Kenneth—“
“Does it… You feel relaxed when I… Kiss you, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—“
That was apparently all the confirmation Kenneth needed, as he pressed their lips together for a long, deep kiss. Dwight’s eyes blew wide open at first, but after a moment he eased up, putting a hand to Kenneth’s back and drawing him closer. Slowly, Dwight’s mind turned to mush. He forgot he was half-naked, sitting on a toilet. He forgot they were technically in a public place. He forgot that there were people on the other side of that door. He forgot that he needed to piss extraordinarily badly.
He just remembered that Kenneth was kissing him and that he loved Kenneth so, so very much…
As Kenneth’s tongue maneuvered its way through his mouth, Dwight felt so content, so happy, so relaxed, that something inside his body gave out. His bladder split open and his stream began to hiss into the receptacle below him. His eyes opened up again with surprise, the heavy fullness he’d been carrying around all day suddenly starting to vanish, leaving just the mind-blowing feeling of his bladder shrinking and his pee jetting its way down his length. “Mmmf…” he moaned into Kenneth’s mouth, equal parts arousal and relief vying for dominance.
Kenneth drew back for a second, “Better…?”
“So much…” Dwight breathed, pulling Kenneth back to him and kissing him more.
The unusualness of what they were doing finally really hit Kenneth then. They were kissing— a whole Hell of a lot— as Dwight gushed a gallon of piss into the toilet beneath him with Kenneth sitting in his lap. The frantic gushing hiss of Dwight’s relief far overpowered their gasps and heavy breathing. It was impossible to ignore what was taking place.
This wasn’t the first time they’d kissed while one of them was urinating. Not really, Dwight had kissed the back of Kenneth’s neck gently while helping him calm down and go a few times before. This was quite a bit different, though. This time, they were putting their hands all over each other, their kisses getting heavier and heavier, and Kenneth was starting to get… God, he was getting so fucking hard right now. Once Dwight was finished, he wanted nothing more than to bend him over and fill him up, right here, the both of them being as loud as they wanted, and—
‘Shit, shit, shit… Get a hold of yourself, Paulson.’ Kenneth scolded himself. ‘Be safe!’
Dwight could feel how erect Kenneth had gotten, and it was making him blush. He was sure that if he wasn’t midstream, his own dick would be as stiff as a board, too. He could feel he already had a bit of a semi, surely once his bladder was drained he’d be at full-mast if Kenneth kept this up…
At long last, the final spurts of Dwight’s pee trickled out of him and he shuddered, unknowingly stimulating Kenneth tremendously. Kenneth moaned as Dwight shook against him, then kept resting there on his lap, drawing their lips apart.
“I’m… I finished,” Dwight said a moment later. “All better.”
Kenneth started to stand up, his legs practically turned to gelatin. Once on his shaking feet, he cringed at a very unpleasant sensation between his legs. It would seem he’d… It would seem he’d ‘finished’ as well… “Nnnh…” he flushed bright red. He hadn’t had… er… THIS sort of ‘accident’ since he was a teenager; and then they’d all happened in his sleep!
He looked down, concerned something was showing on his clothes. It was hard to tell since the restroom wasn’t lit that well. He’d keep his hands folded over his lap for the rest of the ride. Just to be safe.
At lease his cock wasn’t hard as diamond anymore…
“Th—That’s good,” Kenneth said softly, clasping his hands in front of himself already. “Now, I will leave first. You wait a few minutes before you come out, so it doesn’t look like we were in here togeth—“
“Kenneth, do you actually have to go, too?” Dwight asked, nodding to the position of Kenneth’s hands, directly in front of his crotch.
“Nnnnope,” Kenneth said. “I… Uh… I… Had… I… Maybe… I… Kind of…”
Dwight turned scarlet. “Kenneth, er… Did you—“
“Yes,” Kenneth said quickly, turning to leave. “I… I’ll return the favor to you tonight, alright?”
“Th—That’s fine with me,” Dwight said.
Kenneth left the restroom and anxiously ran back to his seat, keeping his hands folded atop his lap as soon as he got there.
Bryce looked up, seeing Kenneth red in the face, covered in sweat and panting heavily. He stared for a moment, there was something about the flush in his cheeks that made Bryce start blushing too. “Holy fuck, Paulson,” he mumbled. “You look like Hell… How bad did you have to take a freaking piss?”
Kenneth looked out the window anxiously. “Really, REALLY bad…” he mumbled.
Dwight came back a minute later. Bryce smiled when he saw he had his belt re-clasped now… But, he TOO was pretty red in the cheeks. And again, for some reason Bryce couldn’t help but blush at the sight. |
As the train ride continued, Dwight’s relief faded and became replaced with more of the concern he’d been feeling for Kenneth earlier. Dwight had needed to pee so badly before, the awful aching pangs and bright hot twinges pulsing through his most sensitive spots were some of the worst things he’d ever experienced. The sight of his belly rounding out and hardening from how full his bladder was getting had been frightening.
But, Kenneth got those agonizing looking swells all of the time— And they were always a lot BIGGER than what Dwight had just seen inside his own body. Kenneth was a little thinner than him, true, but the prominent bulge that often formed in Kenneth’s center was much too pronounced for that to be the only reason it appeared so big. The round protrusion that appeared between Kenneth’s hips had always freaked Dwight out quite a bit, and now that he was aware of what it felt like to hold in his pee when it was only BEGINNING to pull his skin taut, it was REALLY stressing him out to imagine what Kenneth must have to go through.
By the time they finally arrived back at their barrack, Kenneth actually DID need to pee very badly. With some trepidation, Dwight forced himself to look at Kenneth’s midsection as the other hurried into the restroom. He was utterly swollen, and the sharp ball beneath his skin looked hard as a rock, like he’d swallowed down a boulder. Dwight wondered how Kenneth had any space left inside of his body for any of his other vital organs. His bladder ought to have been forcing them all aside to make room for itself.
Dwight’s heart sank. Kenneth appeared to be carrying an enormous weight, so heavy that it was surely a miracle he could even still walk. Dwight wouldn’t be surprised if, if he were to weigh Kenneth before and after he relieved his bladder someday, the poor thing would lose a few pounds just by peeing.
It wasn’t healthy. It couldn’t have been healthy. But, Kenneth endured this all of the time.
He heard Kenneth unzipping, followed by a torrent flooding into the toilet as he moaned in pleasure. Dwight turned his head slightly, watching his friend tremble and shiver with relief. “I… I offered to help you go at the station…” Dwight reminded. “You didn’t have to wait until we were all the way back HERE to—“
“I didn’t have to go that much then…” Kenneth murmured, paying close attention to his aim as several hours’ worth of liquid pressure expelled itself forcefully from his tip. He felt so floaty now, he was worried his jelly-like legs would give out and he’d end up spraying his piss all over the place. “And… Ahhhh… I feel fine now. So, don’t worry.”
Dwight DID worry, confusion making him shake his head. Kenneth had definitely needed to go at the train station. He could remember his friend chewing on his hand, even if he wasn’t doing much squirming. And, the typhoon he was releasing NOW was a clear sign he’d been holding it in for a while. He couldn’t understand why Kenneth had decided to wait when it had predictably resulted in him having a painful emergency.
Kenneth at last finished draining himself and zipped up his pants with another massive sigh. “Hahhh, finally…”
But, it hadn’t needed to BE ‘finally’! He could have gone over an hour ago at the station and been fine! “Kenneth, I don’t… You didn’t have to hold it for so long.”
Kenneth washed off his hands. “I’m okay,” he assured. “It was only JUST starting to really hurt about ten minutes ago, and I knew we were super close and it was going to be over soon, so it wasn’t even a big deal.”
That wasn’t reassuring! It shouldn’t have been hurting at all! “But, you could have just gone at the train station and not felt ANY pain whatsoever!”
“I only kind of needed it at the station,” Kenneth said. “I knew that I could wait.”
“Kenneth, you don’t…” Dwight ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of how to phrase this. He wasn’t always the best with words, he knew he was slower than his friends, knew he wasn’t as smart… He didn’t want to add to Kenneth’s self-consciousness, but his friend was seriously abusing his body for no decent reason. “You know it’s okay to pee when it ISN’T an emergency, don’t you?”
“I always relieve myself before I leave the barrack, just in case I’m out for a long time and there’s nowhere I can relax,” Kenneth shrugged. “Even if I don’t have to go that bad.”
“Could you… Maybe try to do that MORE often?” Dwight asked. “Peeing when you AREN’T about to burst, and not JUST when you’re getting ready to leave here?”
Kenneth knew that would probably be a good idea. It wasn’t like he’d enjoyed holding his bladder until it ached today. As soon as the desperate surges had begun, he knew it would have been better if he’d just gone at the train station like Dwight had offered. But, WHEN Dwight had offered that to him, he’d felt only a sharp, fluttery tingle in his abdomen and knew he just had a LITTLE pee inside his bladder— That he’d be done urinating in under a minute. That it would be a waste of time to make Dwight help him and have Bryce wait around for them when it WASN’T an absolute necessity for him to empty his bladder.
At the same time, he also KNEW that Dwight wouldn’t be aggravated if Kenneth didn’t take a super long pee, and that Bryce wouldn’t scold them for wasting time now that he’d begun to make ‘Kenneth’s health’ into one of his top concerns. But, for whatever reason, Kenneth was unable to free himself from the notion that he was only supposed to urinate when he absolutely could NOT avoid doing so for one minute longer.
He recognized that this belief came from his Father, and that basically everything his Father had ever taught him was completely wrong and didn’t deserve to be listened to. He just wound up obeying Father’s ‘rules’ so often that sometimes he didn’t even realize that these imaginary protocols had originated from that man.
He thought back to earlier on the train, how he’d noticed for the first time that it seriously HURT to bite his hands, and that the only reason he’d never realized that before was because the pounding in his bladder usually demanded the entirety of his attention. He knew that it wasn’t normal to always need to urinate so urgently that all other discomforts failed to register to him. He knew that it wasn’t healthy…
“W—We have tomorrow off,” Kenneth said. “I’ll try and… And go more often. A—As soon as I feel like I’ve got to.”
“That would make me feel a lot better,” Dwight said. “And, it should make YOU feel better, too.”
So, the next day, Kenneth woke up and relieved himself just like he always did. This wasn’t challenging for him at all. He always needed to go pretty badly when he got up, a buzzing tension pulsing out from within his center, flaring sharply down his length. He pulled himself free of his pajamas and relaxed his taut muscles, a night’s worth of urine gushing freely. He felt his insides slowly deflate as he moaned.
He and Dwight stayed inside that day to relax. They read, they talked, they listened to the radio. And, eventually, Kenneth felt the first twinges in his bladder. He allowed them to grow for a little bit, but once he felt a more consistent, tingly hum beneath his waistband, he thought that MAYBE this was when any other person would start heading to the restroom.
“G—Gonna… Gonna try…” Kenneth mumbled out softly to Dwight, standing and walking to the bathroom with some trepidation. THIS was a LOT trickier. He unzipped and aimed, and everything just stopped there. His bladder spasmed, muscles going taut with confusion. His body was stunned that he was telling it to empty so soon.
It wasn’t QUITE the feeling he got when he was so anxious that he couldn’t go. There was a hint of anxiety in his chest, the memories of Father screaming at him that he “Barely even had to go!” And had been “Complaining for now reason and wasting everyone’s time!” But, there wasn’t that ‘plugged’ feeling around his sphincters that he usually got. He didn’t feel the pressure slamming at his gate, begging for that last impenetrable barrier to slide open as it continued to remain a rock solid obstacle.
Instead, it was more like his body just didn’t know what to do…? His holding muscles weren’t tightening themselves up with stubborn fear, they were just… Not responding at all. He was locked up again, just in a different way. His mental state wasn’t the main crux of the issue, THIS seemed to be more physical.
Like he’d only urinated when at the breaking point SO many times and for SO long that now his body genuinely couldn’t DO it unless the pressure was severe enough.
He gave up, returned to his bed and laid against Dwight.
Dwight had not heard any trickling in the restroom, so he knew that Kenneth hadn’t been able to go. “Kenneth, are—“
“I couldn’t go,” Kenneth said. “I’ll wait a little more.”
Dwight shook his head. He needed to train Kenneth OUT of this. “Okay, let’s try it WITH me the first time?” He offered.
“You don’t have t—“
“I want to,” Dwight insisted, taking Kenneth back to the restroom.
Kenneth unzipped once more. “I d—don’t even know if… if our usual… ‘thing’ will work. I’m not feeling super anxious when I’m trying to go, it’s more like something INSIDE me seriously just isn’t WORKING.”
Dwight quickly came to the same conclusion Kenneth had— That his bladder had been put through so much abuse it didn’t function quite right anymore. “O—Okay… Er… Let’s try something different. Just… Take a deep breath, and hold it for a second before you let it out? Keep doing that for a bit?”
Kenneth gave this a shot. After several long, slow inhales and exhales, the walls of his bladder finally squeezed in and his stream flowed out. A thick, strong jet that carried on for half a minute.
Dwight’s heart sank at the force of Kenneth’s piss, and the duration it lasted for. Half a minute of a full-strength gush… When Dwight pissed that much he’d been close to the LIMIT. But, this was Kenneth’s ‘I’m only just starting to feel it!’ pee?
It was with a heavy heart that Dwight realized Kenneth must have had ZERO idea what an ‘average’ pee was like.
The next time Kenneth felt the urge to relieve himself, he got up right away. It took him a few minutes of the breathing exercise to get it out, but he finally did. This continued to work throughout the rest of the day, and by the end of it, Kenneth was able to manage his task without Dwight being in the room with him or right outside the door.
In just one day, it had gotten so much easier!
Granted, it was just one day that he’d spent entirely in his safe room, alongside the person he trusted most in the entire world.
He could… Probably do it in other places too, right? AND all by himself? He’d relieved himself in public places without Dwight’s (Or Bryce’s) assistance before— True, he’d been bursting at the seams THOSE times, but now that he knew how much the breath-holding thing helped him, he could probably do it in the right places even if he WASN’T exploding?
He really wanted to be able to do that. The very idea of being able to relieve himself totally on his own when he didn’t even totally NEED to— Merely WANTED to in order to get rid of a mild, irritating discomfort— sounded like a dream.
Kenneth could test himself soon. His break would continue into tomorrow, whereas Dwight would have to work. Kenneth could go into town and give himself a few trial-runs at the places he knew he could go— The bath-house and that one shop with the super private stalls. If he could manage to use either one of those spots totally alone and without it being an emergency, he’d know for SURE that he’d made major progress.
The next day, he told Dwight about his plan. Dwight didn’t seem very enthused by it. He nibbled on his lip. “Um… If you want to try that…”
“What’s wrong?” Kenneth asked.
“I’m just… I’m worried it might be too soon to try a ‘test’ like that? We only JUST figured out how to make it work in HERE while we’re together. I don’t want you to push yourself and then… I just think it would be better if you waited to try this later.”
“I won’t hurt myself,” Kenneth insisted. “If it doesn’t work, and I end up holding it too long, I’ll come back here. It won’t be a problem.”
“Well, I wish you’d do this on a day I can go WITH you,” Dwight said. “Not even just to help, just to— To keep an eye on—“
“I don’t need to be monitored,” Kenneth interrupted, and Dwight cringed at the edge of sharpness in his tone. “I’ve gone into town by myself before, and I’ve been able to relieve myself then!”
Dwight knew that his friend had, in fact, had success on solo trips before— But, the ‘success’ had been him hiding inside of a public shower stall until his completely filled bladder finally surrendered to the sound and feeling of the running water. Dwight didn’t WANT Kenneth to spend his day doing something similar, holding it until he basically exploded.
But, he also realized that he was thinking it was just a foregone conclusion that Kenneth WOULDN’T be able to urinate before his desperation reached that level. No wonder Kenneth was starting to sound so frustrated— Dwight wasn’t showing any confidence in him. And that was because Dwight didn’t FEEL confident about this, he didn’t think Kenneth could manage this by himself. But, not at least ACTING like he believed Kenneth could handle his challenge today wasn’t going to be helpful. How could Kenneth heal if his biggest supporter was having a hard time thinking he was CAPABLE of it?
So, even though he was still certain that this was too big of a step to take all at once, Dwight made himself nod, and told Kenneth; “I’m sure you’ll take great care of yourself today! But, if you have trouble, hurry back here.”
Kenneth agreed, and Dwight anxiously watched as he left the barrack. He hoped Kenneth would be okay… It wasn’t even JUST that he was nervous Kenneth wouldn’t be able to empty himself and would experience pain. It was because, after so much success yesterday, Kenneth was displaying more confidence about his ability to handle his problem. If his experiment today didn’t end up working, it could UNDO all of that fresh progress. Kenneth would be back to thinking he was broken, and that his problem was insurmountable.
Dwight hoped Kenneth’s day would go alright…
***
Kenneth wandered through town, trying to think of what to do. He didn’t yet feel any urge to urinate. Ordinarily, if he paused and took stock of his body’s needs and found that his bladder still felt empty, this would be a massive relief; He’d know he still had a LOT of time left to get to his barrack before his insides began to knot up on themselves.
But, today, he had such a strange goal; He WANTED to need to pee while he was in public. Not a lot, but just a little bit, enough to test if the breathing thing would work outside of his room. He went to the cafe, and ordered a glass of his favorite orange soda. He drank it quickly, then actually had his glass re-filled. This was such a rare thing for him, he was OUTSIDE and deliberately drinking past the point where his throat actually felt quenched.
Normally, while he couldn’t bring himself to abstain from drinking altogether and endure the feelings of thirst, he would drink until he was satiated and then stop. Now, he was drinking even though there wasn’t any sand-papery dryness coating his esophagus, he was drinking because the soda tasted really, really good and he WANTED more of it.
If… If he ever managed to get over his problem, he’d be able to do things like this all of the time. He’d be like anyone else, taking in as much fluid as he needed, as much as he WANTED, without obsessing over where he was going to PUT all of it later on.
Today, he WAS still obsessing over that quite a bit. Tension cramped within his chest. What if he failed his test today? What if, instead of emptying his bladder right after he noticed he needed to, he just froze up like always and had to hold it and hold it and hold it? He was confident that eventually he WOULD be able to relieve himself here in town— Either at the bath-house or that one shop— But, would he manage to do that BEFORE he was having an emergency?
***
Dwight stood at his post beside Bryce. He anxiously shifted his weight around, unable to find a position where the sharp needles of his nervousness didn’t buzz so painfully through his veins. Bryce noticed his fidgeting right away and sighed; “Smith, did you neglect to relieve yourself this morning?”
Dwight shook his head. He’d used the restroom right after Kenneth had finished up in there. “I went.” He continued to shuffle his feet.
Bryce stared down at the little tracks Dwight’s boots were leaving in the dirt. “… Do you need to go AGAIN?”
Another shake of the head. “Nope, I’m just nervous about Kenneth…”
Bryce looked away. He had forgotten Kenneth had a break today, but he HADN’T forgotten how those two tended to get when they were separated. He was pretty sure that, aside from sleeping and days like this when they had to be in two different locations, the longest Kenneth and Dwight had ever gone without speaking to one another was thirty minutes. But, he didn’t even know if THAT counted because they’d both been knocked unconscious the whole time.
They both got… Uncomfortable if they spent too much time apart. Bryce was simultaneously both jealous and worried by it. He knew the intense clinging couldn’t have been healthy, but the idea of having someone who just NEEDED to be near him during every possible moment sounded really nice.
Unsure what he was doing, Bryce spoke without processing his own words; “How about I be Kenneth for you today?”
“H—How would that even work?” Dwight asked.
“I…” Bryce trailed off. He had no idea how it would work. He hadn’t even known he’d been about to offer that until he suddenly just HAD. “I don’t know, I’ll just… I’ll be next to you all day— I mean, I was going to have to do that anyway, I guess… And I’ll talk to you about whatever inane nonsense you and Kenneth like to talk about. Then you can stop feeling lonely and stop jumping around like that.”
“I… I’d like that,” Dwight admitted. Of course, it wasn’t only the separation that was making him so antsy, it was the concern that Kenneth would hurt his bladder or damage his confidence today. Still, even if Kenneth hadn’t SAID he didn’t want Bryce to know about his plans for the day, Dwight could GUESS that they were meant to stay secret. And, it wouldn’t be SO bad to spend the day talking with Bryce again.
***
Half an hour after he left the cafe, Kenneth felt the first twinges from his bladder. His heart-rate increased. It was going to happen soon… He’d felt so READY for this during the morning, but now that he was finally hurtling towards the challenge with precious little time left to prepare, the trepidation had taken over.
If this didn’t work out, he had PLENTY of time to get back to his room before he had an emergency. But, then he’d just have to stay there for the rest of the day, ruminating on his failure. No one to talk to since Dwight would be at his post with Bryce. Then, when Dwight finally DID get back, Kenneth would have to confess what had happened. Dwight had been so proud of him last night, and had said today he was SURE Kenneth could take care of himself today! If Kenneth DIDN’T succeed, he’d not only be letting HIMSELF down, he’d be letting Dwight down, too.
Once the tingles in his bladder had increased into a serious humming, he was heading towards the glass sculpture shop. He made it there easily, and walked very calmly towards the restrooms located in the back. There were a few other customers there, looking at the sculptures. Even with their eyes trained on the products, Kenneth couldn’t manage to shake the feeling that they were actually watching HIM heading to the restroom— That they were all thinking about him peeing. His muscles started to stiffen, particularly in his legs, and his face and chest heated when he realized that NOW he was walking as if he needed to urinate extremely badly. NOW they were definitely all thinking about his bladder!
He entered the restroom and leaned against the door once he’d gotten it shut. He took a steadying breath, some calm returning to him now that he was in the silent, vacant room. He shut his eyes, searching for the rational part of his brain that he’d just misplaced. ‘Nobody out there is THAT interested in your need to relieve yourself. They weren’t staring, and you are being silly!’
Now feeling a little more steady, Kenneth made for one of the stalls. They looked just as secure as they had been the last time he was here. Each one more like its own private room, with a heavy, thick door that lacked any sort of gap. Totally private and safe. A place where he could urinate in total solitude just the way he liked.
He clicked the lock into place, his bladder starting to thrum a lot more now that he was looking at a toilet— His need going from ‘barely there’ to ‘I gotta go, but I can maybe ignore it.’ Nowhere near the point when he’d usually go, but that was the point today, wasn’t it?
He unzipped and aimed for the bowl. Nothing happened. It was the same confused, numb feeling he’d gotten yesterday; His body not comprehending that he was SERIOUSLY asking for it to pee already. He took in a long, slow breath and held it in his lungs for a moment before letting it out. He did it again. And again. And again. It wasn’t working as fast as it had been in his room…
He didn’t get discouraged yet. Of course, he’d have to do this LONGER in a different location. It was understandable— Expected, even! But, then he just HAD to remember all of the people out in the main part of the store. Every drop of rationality inside his brain seemed to pour out through his nose. Every drop of urine inside his bladder refused to pour out through his tip.
He’d been in here way too long. Anyone who’d seen him go in was probably wondering about it. No, they were DEFINITELY wondering about it. They were thinking ‘Oh, that guy sure looked like he had to pee a few minutes ago! Why isn’t he finished yet? He should have come out by now!’
Kenneth squeezed his eyes closed against the thoughts. They were ridiculous, pure and simple. NO ONE would pay that much attention to him! But, it was too late, the spiraling thoughts had begun, and he was trapped inside the destructive tornado of his anxiety. It whirled around within his chest and lungs, rendering him nearly incapable of breathing— Incapable of doing the special breathing exercise Dwight had taught to him.
It became clear that he wasn’t going to be able to do this— Not now, anyway. He really DIDN’T have to pee that much, just— Just a little more time, not enough that he was having an emergency, just enough to get him a LITTLE fuller. Then, he should be able to do it. Then he’d know he COULD do it.
***
Bryce wasn’t actually half-bad at pretending to be Kenneth. At first, his impression of the other man had been entirely mocking. He’d put on an exceptionally whiney voice and talked about palm trees in a way that made it sound as if he wanted to have sex with them. But, after some protests from Dwight, Bryce calmed it down and decided that the BEST way to act like Kenneth would be to simply be Dwight’s friend.
“You are still squirming,” Bryce pointed out. “Are you nervous, or do you need t—“
“Nervous,” Dwight admitted. “Kenneth is… Doing something today that I know will be difficult for him. So, I’m just worried.”
“Ah, well, I’m sure he will be fine,” Bryce said, since that was what a FRIEND would say. “And, even if it goes wrong…” He ran a hand through his hair. Something was going tight in his chest as he thought over his next words. “Well, you will be there for him, won’t you? You’re… You’re a good friend…”
“I will,” Dwight agreed.
Bryce’s stomach churned in the way it so often did when he was about to get sick, or when he was super stressed. There was something in his core— Or, rather, something WASN’T there. He had this vacant, gut-twisting hollow sensation inside of him. He felt like a fly caught underneath a glass cup, dying to join in on something he’d been cut off from.
Kenneth and Dwight had each other. They had always had each other. They WOULD always have each other. And Bryce was there on the side, a ‘replacement’ for either one of them when they couldn’t be together.
***
Kenneth had wandered through the town for another half hour before the thrumming in his midsection became so pronounced that he’d needed to tense his thighs up a couple of times. He could probably actually PEE now if he tried it again. Certain of his success, Kenneth turned and started in the direction of the sculpture shop.
He didn’t make it there.
He instead ran into one of the librarians on the street. She recognized him and mentioned that they had new books in, but that a few of them were too damaged to go up on the shelves. “If you want some of them, you can pick some out.”
Kenneth ignored the little flaring jolt from beneath his fly which asked him to please go use the restroom first. He didn’t need to go THAT much, this would give him some time to fill up more so that he’d have a better chance at success! Besides, maybe he could find something to read to Dwight.
So, instead of going to the shop and making a second attempt at finding relief, Kenneth followed the woman back to the library. Kenneth could see why she’d been reluctant to put a few of the books up on the shelves. They were pretty clearly in their final days and couldn’t survive much handling. If Kenneth took any of them, he would have to be super careful not to tear them up or allow their covers to fall off.
He found some romance stories and considered getting one of those for Dwight as a way to show how much he loved him. Predictably, ALL of the books featured a relationship between a man and a woman. Kenneth didn’t think he’d ever seen a book where two men were together in that way. He didn’t understand why. Sure, those relationships weren’t exactly allowed in real-life, but LOTS of things happened in books that weren’t allowed in real-life. Why were stories not allowed to cross that line, either? Was what he and Dwight doing so bad that it couldn’t even be WRITTEN about?
He ended up looking through some of the romance books anyway. He would picture the female lead as a man and try to figure out how different the story would have been if that were actually the case. It would still be about two people falling in love… Some things would be different, like maybe some of the characters’ friends would stop wanting to be their friends. And the book wouldn’t be able to end with a wedding, and there wouldn’t be any pregnancies mentioned in the epilogue… But, that would be all. So, why couldn’t there be a book where two men loved each other?
He gave up on the romances. None of them really reminded him of himself and Dwight, anyway. He found a different one that was about two friends who had been attached to one another since childhood, went through all of the trials and tribulations of life together and grew old by each other’s sides. Just by skimming the book, neither of the men ever ended up with wives, and just lived together instead. THIS one did make him think of Dwight, and how he’d love to spend the rest of his life with him. Everything about the book insisted this was just a story of friendship, not of romance, but the more Kenneth read from it, the less he was able to accept that the characters were meant to be friends and nothing more.
He ended up sitting in one of the chairs and reading through the entire thing. It was a very, very long story since it spanned across the men’s entire lives, but Kenneth had always been a fast reader. He had tears in his eyes towards the end when the first of the men succumbed to old age and his ‘friend’ was left feeling like the most vital part of himself had been torn away. He hoped that, when he read this part to Dwight, he wouldn’t end up crying in front of him.
He stood from the chair, and— Oh, GOD. His bladder’s contents sloshed HARD against his sphincters. How… How long had he been reading for?! How could he have possibly gotten SO focused that he didn’t realize how much worse his situation was getting?! Doubtless, his bladder had been searing for a WHILE, stretching out his midsection and forming into an uncomfortable boulder atop his hip-bones. Yet, it wasn’t until right NOW that he finally registered that he seriously needed to get himself to a freaking toilet!
He scrambled back to the librarian’s desk, holding up the book he intended to take with him. “I—I’m going to— Ah—“ His pupils were darting all around, panic mushing up his brain. When his gaze landed on a worn sci-fi book whose author’s name he recognized from something Bryce had said once, he picked it up. “Nnnh, this one too… I—“
The librarian watched him carefully, even with his lower body covered up by the desk, his bouncing couldn’t go unnoticed, and the tension on his face was blatant as well. “You really liked that book, huh?”
“Y—Yes…” Kenneth said. He’d liked it TOO much. Way, way too much… God, he needed to pee! He still couldn’t comprehend why it hadn’t struck him until right now! He could recall a scene IN the book where both of the characters relieved themselves in some desperation after a much too long carriage trip. He remembered that there had been quite a detailed description of the way their streams created a ‘fizzing puddle’. Surely THAT should have been enough to bring him back to the reality of his situation, right? Why hadn’t it?! “I—“
She lowered her voice. “The bathrooms are right in the back, if you didn’t know…”
“R—Right,” Kenneth said. He wanted to just run out the door and hurry to that shop to finally unload— There wasn’t any question now as to whether or not he was full enough to do it. But, while that action WOULD get him his relief a lot faster, it would also LOOK super strange if he left without going to the toilet first. The librarian, a person he only sort of knew, would wonder about him… ‘Why didn’t he go pee? It’s obvious he needs to! He must have a problem!’
Or, Kenneth’s rational side tried to reason, she’d just assume she was mistaken as to the meaning of his fidgeting and then not even think about it a minute later. Kenneth knew what he SHOULD do, he should IGNORE his self-conscious anxiety and get himself to that store before his bladder ruptured. He didn’t have much time left to waste!
His self-conscious anxiety won, though.
He nervously slinked to the restrooms in the back of the building, his bladder sloshing with each step like an overstuffed water balloon, making it very clear to him that every drop of soda he’d had today was stretching out his reservoir. Maybe though, just MAYBE, he would be able to go right HERE. Every step jostled his bladder to the point he had to fight very hard to keep the cringing wince from showing on his face.
He entered the stall and locked the door. This wasn’t like the stalls at the other shop; There were gaps here. A big one at the bottom that left his feet visible, and two on either side of the door, providing enough room for someone to peek in if they really wanted to. ‘WHO would want to?’ Kenneth asked himself. ‘And there’s no one even HERE. Just go!’ He unzipped with shaking hands and begged his bladder to please, please grant him some relief.
He HAD to go here, he HAD to prove that he was getting better— He WAS getting better! Yesterday had gone so well! But, maybe yesterday had just been a fluke. Maybe he wasn’t improving at all, and this situation he’d stupidly gotten himself into was going to prove that. He wouldn’t be able to pass his own self-imposed test, the one Dwight had said he was SURE he’d be able to manage! And, no way could he hide the failure from Dwight, by the time he got back to his room he’d be doubling over and whimpering, so obvious in his desperation. Dwight would be able to tell he’d been unsuccessful, Dwight would be so disappointed in him! He’d have let Dwight down…
He shook more and his chest tightened alongside his aching holding muscles. Despite being filled by a liquid, Kenneth’s bladder felt like it was as solid as a rock. A sharp, firm orb of pain and discomfort all squished up in his lower body, and one that he was desperate to rid himself of as its heavy contents pushed forcefully against the overburdened ring of muscles holding it at bay.
‘Please… Please…’ he thought. ‘I want to go…’ He began doing the breathing exercise again, and the more he did it, the worse his body hurt. His skin was being tugged unforgivingly against the boulder of his bladder. His middle throbbed, heat scorching and flaring throughout him, but nothing was making its way past the solid barrier his stress-level had created.
‘You have to…’ Kenneth fought back a moan of displeasure. ‘Dwight will be disappointed in you! He told you he was SURE you could do it, don’t prove him wrong!’ He bore down on the muscles in charge of his ‘nozzle’ with all his strength, pleading for the flow to begin. ‘Please, just a little bit?’ He begged himself. ‘Just enough that I can walk to the store easier?’
Nothing.
But then there was a drop!
A small, clear drop collected on his tip and it plinked down into the bowl a moment later. This was then replaced by a second drip, and then a third. A very slow, hesitant trickle was making its way free, and if it carried on like this, Kenneth voiding himself drop by tiny drop, he would probably be in here for over an hour before he got it all out of his system.
This wasn’t going to work! But, he was… He WAS going. Technically. Urine WAS exiting his body, so what he was doing now DID technically count as peeing. The drips didn’t make him feel relieved at all, if anything they were making the gnawing, heated agony chewing away at his bladder and urethral sphincter hurt even worse. Every drop stung on its way out, his scared muscles continuing to try and pull them back in spite of how desperately he wanted them to keep coming and pick up speed until they finally became an actual, real stream.
This wasn’t going to happen, and he bit his lip to hold back a whimper. Going purely by definition, Kenneth may have been urinating, but as far as he and the feelings in his body were actually concerned, he was still holding it. He still felt the painful, unrelenting, agonizing need to GO just as strongly as ever, the drops slowly falling into the toilet every several seconds not even enough to fill up a thimble.
He tried and tried, to lean IN to the very slight loosening of his hold that he’d managed to achieve. So often, he felt like an invisible, indestructible cork was plugging his pee-hole shut. Right now, it felt like the cork had been… moved a little bit to the side, enough for something to squeak out past it if it pushed hard enough. If only he could relax enough to dislodge the cork the rest of the way!
But, he kept thinking about how much he had to go, how badly he needed to at least SORT OF pass his test today, how desperately he DIDN’T want to have to tell Dwight he’d failed and disappoint him. And, the more he thought about it, the more the imaginary cork seemed to tighten, until he was no longer even managing those shuddering dribbles.
Frustrated and with his heart beating wildly, Kenneth stuffed his dick back into his pants. He wanted to be back in his room so bad… But, he didn’t want to see the look on Dwight’s face when he arrived there in this condition! He had to get this piss out of himself before he returned to his room, he had to be able to show Dwight— and HIMSELF— that yesterday hadn’t been a total fluke!
He’d just go to that store. He could pee at that store— He KNEW he could do that now! He left the restroom and started to shuffle for the library’s front door. Ohhh, he needed to go so badly! What he wouldn’t give to be able to TELEPORT to that store, lock himself into one of those safe stalls and let it all flow out in a warm, heavenly cascade of pure relief…
Unfortunately, Kenneth did not magically develop super-powers, so he still was going to have to walk. He had his hand on the door and was about to push it open when a tap to his shoulder made him jump. He knew some people, when faced with such severe desperation, would leak if they got startled like that. And, while he had done that a couple times himself, it was exceedingly rare. Instead, his bladder would cramp up catastrophically for a moment, sending unimaginable pressure down his length that was powerful enough to bring tears to his eyes. He’d feel like he was GOING to leak, he’d feel the urine pushing SO hard against him, but then it would stop, it would fizzle out, and he’d be left with a horrid, stinging agony instead of a moment or two of horrified, embarrassed relief before he controlled himself again.
It was the librarian that had stopped him. “Don’t forget your books,” she told him, handing them to him.
He took them in one shaking arm, trying in vain to control the motion of his legs. They wouldn’t listen to him. His feet kept jiggling, his knees kept rubbing, like his limbs had minds of their own and didn’t care how humiliated they were making him feel. “Th—Thank you…”
The librarian was LOOKING at his legs, and before he could even pray to the Heavens for her NOT to comment, she already did; “Um… Was the restroom locked? I swear I opened the doors this morni—“
“No,” Kenneth shook his head. “I got in, don’t worry, I just… I have to go right now!” He turned back to the door.
“A—Are you okay?” The librarian asked. And her voice was filled with so much concern, so much incomprehension, that something inside Kenneth snapped.
“I— I have— I have— I have— It’s like… I’ve got a condition, alright?” Kenneth confessed. Holy fuck… He didn’t even know this woman’s NAME and yet he was actually… He was talking about ‘IT’ with her. He was talking about his most embarrassing and most vicious nemesis. What in God’s name was he doing? What was he thinking?!
“You’re sick?”
“N—No— Yes— I— I don’t know!” Kenneth said. “I just— It’s not easy for me to… Relieve myself. Around other people, or in unfamiliar places, or if it’s not private enough, or just… I have to feel a certain way, or it doesn’t come out… And, I went out today to try to do something that I thought would help me fix the problem, but I made a mistake and now—“
“Oh…” She was obviously shocked that he’d decided to confess this to her. “I didn’t mean to pry…”
“I—It’s fine…” Kenneth said. Now that she knew, he gave in and gripped his crotch with his free hand, just to try and lessen the awful pangs of his need. “I have to go somewh—‘
“I want you to take one more book,” the librarian said. “Hold on.”
Kenneth hadn’t been that irritated with her before, but NOW he sure was. She KNEW he was having an emergency and that he had somewhere else that he very urgently had to get to. He didn’t have time for this… He had half a mind to just bolt out the door and forget about her, but a sudden wicked, painful spasm made him double over and root himself to his spot.
She returned and handed him a third book. He barely glanced at it as he tucked it under his arm, but he could tell it was a children’s picture book. He had no idea why she would want him to have that— Why she would want him to have it SO MUCH that she’d kept him from a desperately needed toilet for a few extra moments. Still, he choked out a “Thank you,” as he clumsily shoved his way outside.
He was surprised by how dark it was outdoors. How long had he been in there for? Dwight was probably finished with work for today, he was waiting in their room now, he was wondering where Kenneth was. He was probably worried. He probably thought something bad had happened. He probably thought Kenneth was struggling, having trouble, failing his test…
All the more reason to get to the store and unload his poor bladder!
He cursed and winced under his breath with each step. He felt like he was trying to carry an overflowing bucket. His bladder was so heavy, it was exhausting just to move it around… The store was close, though. It was so close, he just had to get there… He kept clutching his crotch with his free hand whenever he was out of the glow of the street-lamps. Not many people were out this late at night, but he’d just DIE if someone saw him holding himself!
He glanced down at the swell of his bladder protruding within his usual flat middle. It made sense the sight of this freaked Dwight out so much. A big lump on such a tiny frame was almost disturbing from how out of place it looked. Every drop felt like it was right at his gate now, tears beaded in the corners of his eyes. He needed to go so much he was fighting back the urge to start crying.
He made it to the store at last.
And saw that it was closed.
No— No, please!— He picked up his pace, hoping that maybe someone was still inside. He’d knock on the door, beg them. He was so out of his mind that he would BEG, confess everything, confess that that restroom was the only one he knew he could USE and that he NEEDED to use it NOW.
He rushed to the door and began knocking, hopping from foot to foot and occasionally needing to press his hand BACK between his thighs No one came to the door. He crossed his legs and whimpered, tears flowing down his cheeks now. He didn’t care, he didn’t care. He just— He wanted it to stop.
His heart pounded as he tried to think of what he could do now. He couldn’t go back to his room like this. He didn’t even know if he’d make it there in time. Between here and his room, there would be many stretches where he’d have solitude at this time of the night. Without people, or the fear of people suddenly appearing, he’d be at just as much risk of an accident as anyone else.
And, even if he DID make it back dry, Dwight would SEE what he’d done to himself! He’d see the heavy knot of piss searing in his lower abdomen. He’d see the way he couldn’t let go of his dick for longer than a minute. He’d see the way his legs were tangling together, the bouncing and jiggling that he couldn’t help.
And he’d be disappointed. “Oh, you did so well yesterday…” he’d say, his face falling. And, he’d apologize to Kenneth, say that he should have INSISTED that he not try this, should have INSISTED that they do this together some other time instead. And… And Kenneth would feel so ashamed of himself. Even if Dwight managed to not let the disappointment show, Kenneth would still feel that way enough for the both of them. He’d feel like a failure.
He had to go to the bath-house now, hope that IT was still open. He could pee there, he’d done it before. It was a safe place for his bladder, and the walk wasn’t anywhere near as long as it would take to get to his room. He could make it. He just… He had to make it there!
As… As soon as he felt okay to walk again, anyway.
On a whim, he tried shifting and crossing his legs around in the OTHER direction, hoping that this would help him regain some of his strength.
It didn’t work.
Uncrossing his hold and shifting his weight took away some of the badly needed support from his bladder. The bright hot ball of tension was shaken up, the ocean trapped within it sloshed with enough force that his tears picked up speed. His poor sphincter was assailed by wave after wave of liquid that was just as desperate to flow out as Kenneth was to keep it in, and as the pressure reached a crescendo, Kenneth released a pained wail and snapped his thighs back together when a leak burst past his overburdened defenses.
Delirious, he stumbled into the darkened alley between this shop and the one beside it. In a flurry of motion, he got his belt apart, got his zipper down. He barely managed to keep the books beneath his arm as he yanked his dick free and aimed between his feet, breathing heavily and openly BEGGING. “Please… Please, I… I need it… Please…” Tears rolled down his face.
He was so stupid… He shouldn’t have even tried this. Or, at least, he shouldn’t have gotten so distracted reading a book that he managed to get himself THIS desperate after one of the only toilets he could use had been blocked off from him. He should have ignored the librarian, gone straight to the store, peed BEFORE it was an emergency like he was SUPPOSED to…
Now he was in agony, filled up with piss and even more filled up with shame. He WOULD burst before he got to his room, maybe not completely, but enough to soak him. He’d let Dwight down, he’d let himself down. He was so stupid, and he had to pee, and he couldn’t pee, and he just wanted to pee…
He squeezed his eyes closed, miserable, chest going hot. He tried to focus on the silence of the night. No one was out. It was too late. He was alone here, concealed by the shadows, nobody was around to see him…
Gentle pattering hit his ears, and then a quiet hiss. He opened his eyes, dreading that he would find it had started to rain. But, then he felt the looseness in his middle and his eyes went wide when he realized the only stream of water here was coming out of him. A nice, thin jet striking the wall and dampening it quickly.
Stunned, he panted out a loud sigh. “Ahhhhh….” His body shuddered as tension started to drop away. He murmured out another sigh, just as the door to the OTHER shop slammed open and a few men began loudly walking out, their footsteps quickly approaching.
And, everything stopped right away. Kenneth’s entire body welded itself shut instantaneously. His flood gates closed themselves tight, and he shoved his cock back into his pants, yanking his zipper up. His bladder forced one last protesting leak into his boxers as he hurried from the alleyway, his urethral opening stinging hard with every step.
He passed the three men just as THEY went into the alleyway, and barely managed to hold in the groan when he heard their zippers being pulled, the hiss of their streams hitting the wall HE’D just been using and would give ANYTHING to be able to KEEP using. He’d only managed to get out a cup’s worth of the ocean of water straining within him. He needed ALL of it out!
He was such a complete and total failure. He SHOULD have been able to finish. Anyone else would have been able to finish! Why did he do this to himself today!? He shouldn’t have bothered! He should have been able to predict it would have ended badly! He should have known better! He should have!
No matter how carefully he walked, he couldn’t escape from the fullness still radiating in his bladder, the impossible swell so prominent in his middle. Lightening the pressure was impossible. No matter how far he bended forwards, no matter how much he leaned back, no matter how slowly or quickly he moved, the pain was always there, front and center. Nothing made it better, but on the flip-side nothing seemed to be making it much WORSE anymore, either.
No way would the bath-house still be open now. He was screwed.
He had to get back to his room, likely half drenched when he managed to spill over a few times along the way. He had to confess to Dwight that this whole experiment had been a bust. He had to accept the defeat, the disappointment, the shame. He wasn’t getting better, he was just getting worse. Yesterday had been a rare miracle, lightning in a bottle, something that he’d never be able to recreate.
He turned out the street where the bath-house was. Sure enough, it appeared to be closed. His engorged bladder sloshed and wet heat blooming between his thighs made him break into a fevered sprint to the door anyway. He knocked on it frantically with one hand, fighting to hold onto his crotch AND the books with the other.
The door actually opened, and a woman was looking at him. “We’re closed for the ni—“
“I— I know!” Kenneth blurted out in a wide-eyed panic, his voice going shrill and high enough that it may have been able to shatter glass. “I just need a minute, please?!” He knew he probably looked insane. He would have kicked himself for this humiliating, debasing performance he couldn’t stop himself from putting on, but his legs were too busy being tied into a pretzel right now.
“Um…”
“I need to—“ Kenneth tried to steady his voice and calm back down, even though his heart was pounding and his bladder was screeching. “I need to— To please… To please use the facilities? Please?”
She stepped back into the building, “Er… Okay, I mean, I guess if it’s an emergency, that should be fine…”
“Thank you,” Kenneth managed, stepping inside after her. Tears dotted his cheeks, he squeezed away at the aching barrier separating his piss from the outside world. His pee-hole was BURNING from the strain now. His entire body felt weighted down, dying from the efforts as he forced his tense legs to keep propelling him forwards. He would go here. He HAD to go here… Oh, please, please, let him be able to go here…
He made it to the door of the men’s room. Oh, to lose himself to the blissful oblivion of relief as he stood below the spray of the shower…
Wait.
He… Couldn’t do it in the shower, could he? That employee would hear it come on and get suspicious, and would he then have to confess WHY he’d had to turn the shower on? Was it actually against the rules to urinate in the showers here? Would he be told not to come back? What would he do in the case of ANOTHER emergency, then?
No. He was going to have to make himself go in an ACTUAL toilet like a NORMAL person would.
But, that should be EASY. Yeah, it was a place he was unfamiliar with, but the bath-house was CLOSED. The only other person here was a woman, and even if part of her job WAS cleaning up in the men’s room, she wouldn’t come DO that when she knew he was in here USING it. That would be awkward for them BOTH even if Kenneth hadn’t been cursed with a shy bladder.
He looked over to the row of sinks lined up next to the urinals. He could… Maybe sort of RECREATE the shower in a way, too. Just… Turn on the sink, and put his hand beneath the water as he listened to it. That should get him peeing, right? Probably. He’d just have to really SCRAMBLE for one of the stalls on the other side of the room once it started to avoid getting himself too damp.
To make that easier, he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants as he approached the sink. He set the three books down on the counter and cranked it on, allowing the water a few seconds to warm up. The sound of it erupting into the basin sent his bladder rippling, and he crossed his legs together and jiggled. Then, he thrusted a hand beneath the flow and immediately his urgency sky-rocketed to the absolute worst thing he’d felt all day.
A whimper of pain tore through his throat as the pressure peaked and his urethra flared. He gripped his other hand around the counter, knuckles whitening as he tried NOT to let the hand drop do his dick and act as a dam that would prevent this plan from working entirely. He was dangling at the edge of his absolute limit now, everything inside him was utterly exhausted, and the imaginary cork he’d been fighting for so long started to crumble…
He was peeing, and before he registered that he released a moan, only aware that suddenly something had stopped hurting him so badly. But, then the heat and dampness struck him and he realized that he was GOING. His first instinct was to grind his thighs together and STOP, but this had been what he’d WANTED, if he made it stop, he would have to start over, and— And he just had to get to a toilet. But, the stalls were all the way on the other side of the room and he was peeing NOW, and— And, he was alone in here and nobody was around to come in, and—
He limped a few steps to the closest urinal, pulled his pissing dick free and gasped out a haggard groan as his stream was at last directed into the porcelain. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….” His eyes went unfocused, vision going foggy and blurry as his mouth hung open with slack-jawed relief.
His eyes drooped shut as he lost himself to the bliss of it all. He’d held it for so long, had been in so much misery trying to get rid of all this pee, and now that he’d finally managed to make it come out, he could do nothing but submit himself to the pleasure that took away all his pain. His stream surged, his bladder shrank, his spine shuddered…
Ohhh, why did this have to feel so good? The sheer pleasure he always felt in these moments made his brain knot with confused conflicting thoughts. He HATED being pee-shy, he HATED how embarrassing and hurtful it was, he HATED how much it controlled his life and how he interacted with the world. But, this… He LOVED this… It was one of the best feelings in the world, just… Letting go, doing something so incredibly NEEDED, something so NATURAL and pleasurable…
His euphoria reached a new peak as his bladder finally lowered to half capacity, without realizing it he’d leaned forwards, supporting himself with one palm flat against the wall. Time moved in a strange way as his liquids continued to gush out of him. Minutes or seconds flowing just as easily as his urine.
It ended with his jetting stream slowing down and narrowing to a dribble that trickled lazily and prompted him to give a push to help it along. He finally felt like he was done, but then a few slow squirts spurted out of him and splashed into the urinal. At last, he was drained, but he stayed where he was a few seconds longer, worried more was to come.
Once he knew for sure he was empty, he stumbled back, zipped his pants, and put his belt back together. He washed off his hands and barely remembered to retrieve the books from the counter.
He left the restroom, feeling light and floaty. Amazing how much easier it was to walk without a full bladder! The woman was in the hallway, and he blushed as he walked past her. “Th—Thank you…” he said once more. “I’m r—really sorry.”
She waved him off, “It’s okay, I can tell you needed that a lot…”
Kenneth’s blush deepened and he picked up his pace. He resumed the walk back, now certain Dwight must have been even MORE worried about where he was and what had happened to him.
In between town and the area Kenneth guarded, there was a bit of a wooded area to walk through. Kenneth didn’t feel creeped out traversing it after dark, it was actually rather peaceful in the silent night. But, towards the end, he started to feel the need to pee once more, his bladder worn out from its earlier abuse.
He could… He could try it… If it didn’t work, he’d be in his room before he needed to go badly again. He turned to a tree, unzipped and aimed. He took the same steadying breaths Dwight had encouraged him to yesterday, focused on the tranquil solitude of the woods.
And he peed. It came out in a slow, halting stream that he had to REALLY push on to keep moving, but he peed. He peed for twenty seconds, and then he was already done… He hadn’t needed to go much at all— But he’d still gone. And, that was okay. That was good, even. Now, he knew he wouldn’t have anything MORE pressing to attend to when Dwight inevitably asked him where he’d been.
He made it back to his room and was immediately engulfed in a tight hug. “Kenneth, you’re okay!” Dwight cried, nuzzling his face against his neck.
“I told you, idiot,” said Bryce’s voice.
Bryce was just… Here. In their room. In Kenneth’s bed… Kenneth’s eyes popped open to stare. “What are y—“
“Dwight started to panic once the sun had gone down and you still weren’t back. He wanted me to help him look for you, but I said we should give it a little more time and that you’d be FINE. And, you are.”
Dwight scowled back at Bryce. “That’s not what happened! I told you I couldn’t find Kenneth, and YOU insisted on coming back here to wait with me because ‘There’s no way I can sleep if I don’t know he’s safe.’”
Bryce flopped onto his side and looked away. “Feh. Do you have any witnesses to back up this fable you’ve concocted?!”
“Well, yeah. There’s—“
“Paulson, where have you been?” Bryce interrupted sharply.
Kenneth didn’t want to explain the test to Bryce, and he certainly didn’t want to explain how spectacularly he’d failed it… “Um, well…” he remembered the books. “I was at the library,” he said. “I got some books they said I could keep— And I got this one for you!” He handed the sci-fi novel to Bryce.
Bryce stared at the cover. This was actually a very rare book, the first edition of his favorite author’s first book. It was in awful condition, but still… It was making Bryce feel extremely funny. It was a familiar kind of ‘funny’ now, but he didn’t think he’d ever actually get USED to it. “O—Oh… Thank you…” Heat scorched at the backs of his eyes, and he had no idea why, just that he needed to leave this room immediately before he started to… “G—Goodnight, you two, I’m gl—glad you are safe, Paulson…” He hurried out.
“I got this one for you,” Kenneth added, giving Dwight the ‘friendship’ book that didn’t seem to be about a ‘friendship’ at all. “I will read it to you, but it has a really sad part towards the end.”
“O—Oh,” Dwight said. “Er… Were you gone for so long because you were just reading this whole book?” If THAT was the case, he really HAD worried for no reason. That probably WAS all that happened. Kenneth certainly didn’t look like he was bursting to piss. He wasn’t squirming, his abdomen was flat. And he was dry, too, so he’d been able to relieve himself and he’d been able to do it PROPERLY.
“Um… That’s part of why I was gone for so long,” Kenneth admitted. “I… I didn’t… I don’t want to disappoint you…”
“Why would I be disappointed in you?”
“Because you said this morning that you were SURE I’d be able to pass the test,” Kenneth said. “And—“
“Hold on, I said I was SURE you’d take care of yourself,” Dwight interrupted. “I was NEVER sure if you’d be able to pee straight away like you were hoping to.”
Kenneth blinked. Dwight may not have been disappointed in him— Or at least he was trying not to SHOW that he was— but Kenneth was still ashamed. “Well… I couldn’t,” he said. “I drank a lot of soda, then as soon as I had to go, I tried. But, I couldn’t do it… So, I thought I’d try again later, and when I started to need it more, I got… Distracted reading until I suddenly REALLY had to go. But, I couldn’t pee at the library, and then the glass sculpture shop was closed so I couldn’t pee there. I was desperate, so I tried to go in an alleyway, but I could only get a little bit out before some guys came and startled me and made me stop. So, I had to go to the bath-house and BEG the lady there to let me use the bathroom because they were closed, which was SUPER embarrassing! And, I only managed to go by running my hand under warm water and then RUNNING to the urinal before I had a complete accident. And, I DID hurt myself, because I wore my bladder out so much that I had to stop and go on a tree in the forest, and so I failed everything today, I’m not getting better, and—“
Dwight held a hand up. “Wait, wait.”
Kenneth stopped.
“You consider all of that to be ‘failing’ and ‘not getting better’?”
Kenneth nodded. “I was supposed to be able to—“
“Kenneth, no. Think about this; You managed to get yourself to START going in an alleyway BY YOURSELF. And, even if you couldn’t finish there, you THEN got yourself to use a urinal on your own— And THEN you peed again outside without me needing to be there!”
“But, nobody was even IN the bath-house when I used the urinal,” Kenneth said. “Just a woman, and she wouldn’t have come in to th—“
“Darling, do you remember the last time you used a urinal?” Dwight asked. “I had to lock the door to the bathroom and hold onto you for a while before you could do it. Today, you did it by yourself without a locked door. It doesn’t matter that no one was around to walk in on you, it’s still a VERY big deal, and I’m proud of you.”
Kenneth teared up, after spending so much time thinking he was going to let his friend down, being praised by him instead felt extra good.
Dwight hugged him again. “And, see, in the very end you DID make yourself go when it wasn’t an emergency, didn’t you?”
“Y—Yeah, when I went on the tree, I wasn’t bursting.”
“There you go…” Dwight said. “You did very, very well today.” He kissed his cheek. “So, what’s the third book you got?”
“I don’t actually know. She gave it to me when I was… In a hurry, and I didn’t look.” Kenneth set it down on his bed. It was, indeed, a children’s book. One about a dragon. “I’m not sure why she wanted me to have it. I kind of blurted out my… Er, ’problem’ to her, and she gave me this.”
Dwight sucked in a sharp breath. Kenneth had just… Told a random person about his shy-bladder? Just like that? God, he wished he HAD been with Kenneth today so that he could have watched all of this progress himself! He opened the book, this one was easier for him to read than other books were. Since the words were so large on the page, so spread out, they didn’t jumble together or swap position the way words in other books seemed to.
The story was about a shy dragon that got so nervous that he couldn’t breathe fire if other dragons were around to see. Dwight thought it was PROBABLY meant as a metaphor for a fear of public speaking, and NOT as one for pee-shyness… But, then again, the book made it clear that breathing fire was something the dragons all NEEDED to do and that they couldn’t put it off forever… And it also kept mentioning how a ‘pressure’ started to build up and ‘become painful’ if a dragon didn’t ‘relieve’ the flames quickly enough… Those sorts of things didn’t happen to a person that was just really scared to deliver a speech.
“I… I guess she thought you’d relate to this story…” Dwight said finally.
“I guess…” Kenneth agreed, blushing hard. “How does the dragon fix his problem?”
Dwight flipped through more pages. “Looks like he just practiced a lot… So, the same thing you’re doing.” |
Written for the Omovember prompt "Assisted Peeing"
***
Kenneth had never had a worse cold in his life. Ordinarily, the guards wouldn’t be granted days off for a simple cold, nor would they be sent to the medical building over something so minor. Just some throat lozenges, and encouragement to power through, and that would be all.
But, Kenneth had completely lost his voice. He was not of much use when he couldn’t even communicate. He was of even less use when he couldn’t even communicate and could barely stand up. He was utterly useless when he couldn’t even communicate, could barely stand up, and was hacking up phlegm onto anyone who made the mistake of getting too close.
So, he’d been sent to the medical building to rest up. He was glad for that. He pretty much just laid in bed for hours, drifting in and out of sleep. He lay on top of the sheets, his body kept flashing hot and cold and drenching him in so much sweat that he couldn’t bear to be covered up with anything.
Occasionally, a nurse would attend to him. His nurse was not Elizabeth this time, she was busy assisting other people. Instead, he was with a woman named Olivia whom he did not know particularly well. She took fine care of him, though. She gave him lozenges and plenty of water, and checked in on him pretty often.
But, eventually, all the water Kenneth had been given started to ask to come out. Then it YELLED to come out. He needed to pee, and pretty badly at that. His enormous, steel-bladder was not as strong as it usually was, thanks to the weakened state of his entire body. He went from barely feeling the urge to thinking he was about to pee the sheets in a little under an hour, and it was tough to find the energy to tense up his pelvic muscles and keep it all in.
There were urinal bottles in the cabinet on the other side of the room. He’d tried to stand up to get one a few times now, but even raising his head made the world spin so much he felt like he’d pass out.
He was going to have to wait until Olivia came back, an event which he was eagerly anticipating.
It presented a bit of a problem, though. He had COMPLETELY lost his voice. He couldn’t even manage to emit tiny moans or whimpers, much less the words “I have to relieve myself now, please.” He was going to have to notify the nurse of his present dilemma through some other method.
He wriggled around in his bed. The restless, uncontrollable motion was causing him to get even more dizzy. He tried shutting his eyes against his twisting, twirling surroundings, but somehow that made him feel even MORE sick. He did his best to hold still, but the demands from his bladder to fidget about would return within a matter of seconds.
Finally, Olivia had entered. First, she opened the cabinet and checked the supplies. Kenneth hit his palm against the wall beside his bed to get her attention, trying to indicate that he needed something RIGHT now and didn’t have time for her to take inventory like that.
Olivia turned around to face him. “Do you need something.”
Kenneth nodded, trying to do so slowly and gently, but amplifying his headache anyway.
“What is it? Your throat? Need a lozenge? Water?”
He shook his head, the migraine inside it becoming blisteringly painful from that small motion. He winced and pressed a hand against his forehead.
“Oh, you have a headache,” Olivia said, returning to the supply cabinet.
Kenneth wished he was capable of groaning. Yes, he did have a headache. And yes, he would like medicine for it. But, there was something ELSE he needed way more!
Olivia returned and gave him a pain killer, then watched as he swallowed it with a glass of water. “Is that all you needed?”
Kenneth shook his head, trying to figure out how to get his point across… She’d figured out his head was hurting because he’d grabbed at it… He cringed, this was such an embarrassing thing to do on purpose, but he was too sick to care too much about his pride, he just needed to get this piss out of his body so he could go to sleep again.
Kenneth put his hands between his legs, which were already crossing. He wriggled his hips in a slightly exaggerated way.
“You need to urinate?”
Kenneth nodded. Yes! So much!
Olivia returned to the cabinet once more and retrieved one of the bottles, Kenneth was already letting some of the anxious breath out of his lungs. She unscrewed the cap and knelt down beside him. “Can you undo your pants on your own?”
Kenneth blushed furiously and nodded.
“Okay, I’ll hold the bottle for you while you go, then.”
Fuck.
How was he supposed to explain THIS without the use of words!?
When he’d gone to Elizabeth about his problem, she’d promised not to tell anybody about it— Not even the other medics. He’d been grateful to her for that at the time, but now he wished she HAD told them!
He began to shake his head.
“You do need help with your clothes after all?” Olivia guessed.
More head-shaking. He closed his eyes tightly, pointed at her, then at his shut eyes.
“Are your eyes hurting?”
Ugh… Frustrated, Kenneth shook his head once more. ‘Just leave the bottle and wait outside. I can’t go with you here.’ That was ALL he wanted to say! He opened his mouth and attempted, once more, to speak. His throat had other ideas, and only allowed him to let out a series of hacking coughs that shook the walls of his bladder and made them almost collapse in on themselves. This time, when he grabbed hold of his cock, it hadn’t been deliberate at all. It had been a reflex; a desperate attempt to ensure he didn’t leak— Though he wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to do THAT with Olivia still looking at him.
“Slow breaths now…” Olivia said. “You sure you can manage your clothes?”
Kenneth nodded, shut his eyes again and pointed rapidly between himself and Olivia. ‘I don’t want you to look! Please, just understand that!’ he mentally pleaded.
“I don’t… Oh, you don’t want me to see you?”
More nodding. Yes! Finally, they were getting somewhere!
“Don’t worry, I’ll close my eyes. Cough when you are ready.”
Kenneth’s heart sank. Shutting her eyes was a good start, but he needed her to LEAVE altogether! He had another thought, though. He was so dreadfully tired at the moment, his body most definitely wasn’t behaving the way it usually did. Maybe he was exhausted and sick enough that he didn’t have the ENERGY to get anxious about someone being in the room with him as he peed.
It was a long-shot, but he BADLY wanted to get this piss out of himself so he could return to his sleep. He thought back to other times when he’d been sick, if the illness had had any kind of affect on his bladder shyness. Except, every time he’d been sick in recent memory, Dwight had been there to care for him; the one person whom his bladder didn’t MIND emptying in front of.
Kenneth undid the button on his pajama pants and got himself out. He kept a hand clamped around his exposed dick, both to conceal it better and to help his pee stay where it belonged. He made himself cough, prompting that awful lurching sensation in his bladder once more as Olivia turned around.
“Ready?”
Kenneth nodded. He was dying for this whole thing to be over.
It was far from over, though. Olivia positioned the bottle and held it in place for him, just as she’d promised she would. And she was RIGHT there beside him. Kenneth could hear her breathing; this new person whom he didn’t know at all. SHE was going to hear every hiss and splatter his pee made, SHE was going to feel the way the bottle grew heavy and warm the more he filled it up.
‘She is a nurse, she does that all the time,’ Kenneth told himself. ‘She’s listened to lots of people pee, it’s not different for you…’ But he knew his little mental pep-talk was futile, the fact of the matter was that it WAS different for him. It was VERY different for him. He squeezed his eyes shut once again, trying to calm his nerves enough to at least let go of a little trickle, but he was locked up bad. This was one of the times where he swore there must have been some kind of cork plugging up his bladder, one that was made of indestructible steel and that wouldn’t shatter for anything.
As it settled in to him that he was most definitely NOT going to be able to pee under these conditions, Kenneth’s mind started to race. Olivia, no doubt, was thinking something was wrong with him. She’d just watched him squirm and jiggle and hold himself for several minutes, obviously in urgent need of a pee break, and now that she’d provided him with the answer to his problem, he wasn’t using it. Kenneth’s heart pounded as he imagined what must have been going through her mind;
‘Wow, does he not know how to pee?’
‘He must be broken.’
‘He has some serious issues. He has no business being a guard.’
Kenneth told himself that his thoughts were ridiculous, that he probably wasn’t even the first person to have struggled to let go into a bottle Olivia was holding. All he needed was some way to explain to her that he needed total solitude for this activity, and all would be resolved. She’d just accept that Kenneth liked to have a lot of privacy while he peed, she wouldn’t jump straight to figuring out how deep his issue went.
“It’s okay,” Olivia said. “I’ve got it in the right spot for you.”
Kenneth’s voice was one of his most useful tools. He may not have been the strongest, but he could scream and shout and utilize his voice to get what he wanted. It wasn’t until now that he really understood how valuable his voice really was to him, how badly he needed it. ‘I can’t go in front of you!’ It was just seven words! Seven measly, little words! And he couldn’t manage to tear them out through his phlegmy, scratchy throat.
When Bryce teased Kenneth for his problem, he always called him ‘pee-shy’. Kenneth wasn’t sure if ‘shy’ was really a strong enough word for how he felt when attempting to urinate under observation like this. But, maybe he could come up with some sort of gesture to get the idea of ‘shyness’ across. Kenneth could feel that he was blushing— With as pale as his sickness had made him, it must have looked awful bright too— so that could help.
Kenneth covered his face up with one of his hands, as if trying to hide himself. As he did it, he knew it probably wasn’t going to be understood. But he couldn’t think of anything that was better.
“Getting tired?” Olivia asked. “Go ahead and pee now, I promise you won’t get any on the sheets if that’s worrying you.”
Kenneth didn’t CARE about the sheets. If some of his urine ended up spilling onto them, it wouldn’t matter because at least it wouldn’t be locked away in his bladder anymore! He closed his eyes again, screwing them up tightly and gritting his teeth. Now, he was trying to use his facial expressions to show Olivia ‘I’m trying, but I can’t!’ He hoped she’d be able to discern that a little easier.
“Are you… Having trouble going?”
Yes! Kenneth nodded, certain that he was finally successful. Olivia, at last, understood that he NEEDED to be alone right now!
Olivia was frowning, her brows knit together. She looked way more concerned than Kenneth expected her to… He knew his problem was pretty unhealthy for him, he’d suffered through enough painful experiences that he was well aware of that. But, the solution to it was such a simple one right now. If she was so worried about it, he didn’t understand why she wouldn’t just leave right away so he could go. He wriggled his hips, waiting impatiently for her to do exactly that.
“H—Hold on…” Olivia said eventually. After that, she finally left… But she took the urinal bottle WITH her.
Kenneth was equal parts confused and annoyed. If he was capable of making noise, he would have been shouting up an angry tirade right about now. Olivia had finally grasped that he needed solitude to piss and she’d GIVEN him that, but also taken away the only receptacle he could use TO piss?
He tried to steady his breathing, his rage was making him inhale and exhale way too quickly for his aching chest to be okay with— And it certainly wasn’t doing his bladder any favors, either. Olivia would probably realize her mistake pretty quickly. She’d come back in, give him the precious bottle and say “Oh, that was silly of me. Sorry.” And then she’d walk back out and he’d finally get to go.
He just had to wait a few more minutes, he was sure of it.
Olivia returned soon enough, but rather than handing over the bottle and immediately departing, she spoke gently to Kenneth. “I don’t want to alarm you, I’m sure this is making you very nervous.”
Kenneth nodded. ‘That’s why I need you to LEAVE!’ he wanted to snap.
“I know that you haven’t relieved yourself since I began seeing you hours ago, and that I have been keeping you very hydrated. Your bladder must be VERY full by now.”
Was… Was she freaking TEASING him!? YES, his bladder was FULL! Why else would he be squirming around and holding his crotch? His bladder was so full that just the feeling of his pajama top brushing against his lower belly was sending it into fits of spasms! He felt his face heating up, and he wasn’t sure if the redness no doubt forming there was from embarrassment or anger. What kind of a nurse taunted a patient for needing to go pee?
Why the Hell did Elizabeth have to be so busy with other people? He wanted her! Or any of his friends! Any one of them could get it through Olivia’s head that he COULDN’T freaking control this and didn’t need to be mocked for it! But, Dwight and Bryce were both at their posts. Kenneth wouldn’t see them until they were through for the day— He knew that at least Dwight would surely come to check on him then. Unfortunately, that would be HOURS from now and Kenneth both didn’t WANT to hold it that long and wasn’t too sure if he COULD.
Still, he nodded to Olivia, a little twitchily. He tightened his grip on himself, both because he honestly just NEEDED to and because he wanted to emphasize the severity of his need. He was hoping maybe she’d just take pity on him if he made it blatantly obvious how uncomfortable he was.
“I’m afraid you may be suffering from acute urinary retention,” Olivia informed. “I checked the medications I have been giving you today, and that IS a side effect of one of them.”
Kenneth shook his head back and forth. No. He didn’t have urinary retention. He just had a really, REALLY shy bladder and he’d be fully capable of voiding it as soon as Olivia left him the heck alone!
“I know,” Olivia said. “That sounds scary, and I know you’re in a lot of discomfort right now… Just to make sure, I’m going to check a few things, alright?”
More frantic head-shaking. ‘You don’t have to do that,’ Kenneth wished he could say. ‘I already know that isn’t the problem, this is just what happens when I try to go in front of people! I don’t have TIME for you to check on anything.’
Kenneth had failed to spontaneously gain the power of telepathy, so Olivia came closer to his bed and asked him to pull up his pajama shirt. Kenneth did so, the stupid thing had been teasing his bladder too much anyway, tickling against his aching middle like that.
Olivia looked at Kenneth’s exposed abdomen. While the sight of it, a little engorged and swollen with urine, was a common one to Kenneth, it sure wasn’t to Olivia and worry flashed across her face. “This probably isn’t going to feel good,” she warned. “I’m sorry.”
Kenneth’s heart skipped a beat as he instinctively tried to ask what she was going to do… But, he couldn’t even attempt to drag his voice up kicking and screaming through all the gunk and pain coating his throat, because Olivia acted too quickly.
She placed a hand onto Kenneth’s abdomen and sort of palpitated it a few times. Holy mother of— Sweet merciful— FUUUCK! This wasn’t as bad as the time he’d had an absolute scumfuck of a human being squeezing the Hell out of his bladder, but it WAS a lot like having several boulders slammed against his bladder rapid succession. Boulders that had been lit on fire. His urethral opening flared with electric, white hot pulses of pain as pee tried desperately to pour through his pipes and escape. He tried to LET it, he didn’t care if he peed himself, he just wanted the hurting to stop! Besides, being extremely sick and having someone mash the life out of his bladder was a pretty decent excuse for wetting one’s pants as an adult.
His urine failed to push its way to freedom, instead returning itself to the Hellish, throbbing misery of his bladder once more. Liquid flowed from other places, though. Tears rolled down Kenneth’s face, being drawn forth by the sheer physical agony alone. He hadn’t had anything hurt THAT much in quite a while!
“I’m sorry,” Olivia repeated. “I wanted to see if that would cause you to…” she trailed off, but Kenneth knew what she’d been about to say.
She’d been TRYING to make him wet himself!? He supposed that sort of made sense, as she thought his inability to let go was caused by a serious physical ailment rather than an anxiety that was taking place inside his brain. Still, he didn’t much appreciate having someone attempt to force him to have an accident.
Olivia seemed to notice he was crying, “It’s alright. We can get this treated, it will be sorted out soon. We are probably going to need to use a catheter, have you ever had one before?”
Kenneth’s head flew back and forth. No, please… Not this. Not NOW. Catheterization had always been what Kenneth saw as ‘the end of the line’, and it was something he was terrified of; that one day his problem would reach such a fevered pitch that he’d be forced to have his piss extracted from him like that every time he had to go. To have that happen TODAY, when he knew he’d be perfectly capable of peeing normally if he could just be allowed to have this room to HIMSELF for a bit, was like a knife to his chest.
‘I don’t need that!’ Kenneth tried to cry out. ‘That isn’t the problem!’ But, instead of words, Kenneth only managed to let loose another series of coughs. His bladder, having just been put through the heinous torture of Olivia pushing on it a few minutes ago, flew into angry, wild convulsions again as his body vibrated and heaved. Kenneth gnashed his teeth together, squeezed his dick so hard that it HURT, and felt more tears flowing.
“It isn’t as painful as you think,” Olivia promised. “It definitely will feel better than what you’re going through now… We could use another kind of pain killer if that helps you, are you allergic to any of those?” She touched her forehead lightly. “Oh, I guess you can’t tell me that, huh?”
Kenneth barely heard what she was saying. He couldn’t believe he was going to… That the day had come, that he was going to be catheterized. And, it wasn’t even because his problem had managed to get worse! Nope! Instead it was just because he’d lost the ability to say one stupid, simple, tiny, little sentence!
He made a silent wish for Dwight to be granted leave early today, for Dwight to come right through the door and explain to Olivia what the ACTUAL problem was before Kenneth was subjected to an unnecessary procedure. But, that didn’t happen.
What DID happen was nearly as good, though. “Who usually sees you when you’re sick? Elizabeth, right? Would she be able to tell me more about any allergies?”
Kenneth nodded, hope blooming in his chest. ‘God. YES! Please, go get Elizabeth! I want Elizabeth now!’
Olivia left… And, again, she took the bottle Kenneth wanted so much… He tried not to be too upset about that, he should finally be able to use it very soon!
Olivia came back, Elizabeth beside her. “Now, what’s the matter?” Elizabeth asked. “Paulson is having a reaction to a medication?”
Olivia explained the afternoon’s events. “He’s lost his voice, but I was able to tell that he needs the toilet. So I gave him the bottle as usual. But, when I held it for him he wasn’t able to empty his bladder. I looked into the medicine we’ve been giving him, and a rare side-effect of one of them is urinary retention, so—“
Elizabeth held up a hand, “Olivia, Paulson probably doesn’t have urinary retention. He has… Um…” Elizabeth glanced at Kenneth.
Kenneth nodded, ‘Just tell her, I don’t care anymore!’ he thought.
“He… Gets very nervous about peeing around other people,” Elizabeth explained. “That’s all. It’s difficult for him to relax enough to empty his bladder. It’s much more likely that he just couldn’t go with you so close to him. If you just give him the bottle and leave him here for a bit, I’m sure you won’t have anything to worry about.”
Kenneth already felt relieved as a weight lifted off his shoulders. Finally, all the words he’d been dying to say…
“Oh,” Olivia said. “Um… Paulson, is that what you’ve been trying to tell me?”
Kenneth bobbed his head up and down. He was shaking now, wishing that Olivia would hurry up and get out now that the issue had been laid out for her so clearly.
“And… I pushed down on your… I’m so sorry,” Olivia said. “I had no idea it was something like that, I—“ She stopped herself. Kenneth’s bladder had felt enormous when she’d squeezed it. And he was STILL holding all of that in… She set the bottle down on his bed. “You just need Elizabeth and I out, right?”
Nod. ‘Hurrryyyyyy!’ Kenneth’s brain and bladder screamed in unison.
When Olivia and Elizabeth finally departed from the room, Kenneth tore apart the button on his pajama pants. He sat up as much as his sick body would allow him to and aimed himself into the bottle’s opening. ‘You’re alone now, Paulson…’ Kenneth told himself. ‘Deep breaths…’ After a few steadying inhales and exhales, pee started to noisily rattle against the material of the bottle, and relief washed over Kenneth’s entire body. ‘Dear God, that’s better…’ was Kenneth’s last thought before his brain turned into garbled, staticky mush. For the first time since his illness had started, Kenneth felt something pleasurable.
Quickly, the sound of liquid hitting glass was replaced by the sound of liquid hitting liquid as his release grew in both speed and strength. Shivers darted up and down his spine, and he felt the bottle growing heavier and heavier with each passing second.
Once he was done, he’d nearly filled the thing to its top, just as he had done several times before. He replaced its cap, and then laid himself back down, eager to get back to sleep now that his discomfort had been alleviated.
Olivia came in before he’d drifted off though. She picked up the bottle he’d discarded near the foot of the bed and Kenneth saw deep concern take over her features yet again as she stared at it. Embarrassment bubbled in his chest when he realized that she was probably freaked out by how full the bottle was. To her credit, she didn’t comment on that, instead said “I want to apologize again. I’m very sorry for not understanding what was bothering you. I know now. Next time you have to go, I’ll give you all the privacy you need right away, I promise.”
Edited November 4, 2022 by secretomoact
(see edit history) |
Written for the Omovember prompt "Holding/Peeing Contest"
***
Elizabeth really thought she needed to thank Bryce again for giving her a way to pee standing up. It was an unusual thing to think, but it really had changed her life. She didn’t need to hold it as long as she used to anymore, because she could do it so much faster and in so many different places.
She didn’t have to hope and pray for a break to come so that she’d have time to go to the restroom, pull her clothing down all the way, sit, pee get re-dressed and wash her hands— A process that could take five minutes, or more if she’d been bursting like she so often was. Five minutes was too long for her to be away from her work.
Instead, she could find a gap in the day, go to the restroom, position the medicine spoon while barely having to mess with her clothes, pee and wash her hands. Even if she was desperate, this could all be accomplished in under three minutes. Three minutes was perfectly acceptable.
It didn’t matter if a toilet was too gross, because she wouldn’t have to touch it anymore. When she was outdoors, she no longer had to squirm and fidget, envying the ease with which men could relieve themselves behind trees. She didn’t have to hold it until she genuinely had no choice, then struggle to get into a position that wouldn’t cause her to pee on her feet, worrying all the while about someone seeing her half-naked. She could go easily and discreetly now!
She wanted to tell Bryce how grateful she was for such a nice thing, but she had no idea how to approach him about it. She decided to just be extra nice to him, so he’d know she appreciated him.
The problem there was how Bryce kept reacting to her. Elizabeth visited him during her break every day, to ask him how he was doing, if he was feeling well, if there was anything he was concerned about. She asked him about his favorite books, his favorite music… But, Bryce didn’t seem to WANT to talk to her.
Bryce would only mumble his responses, looking down at his feet. He’d sweat and begin breathing oddly. Once, when he’d started doing that, Elizabeth had grabbed his wrist to check his pulse and he just turned pale and stammered that he had to go handle something right away.
Elizabeth had thought they’d been becoming friends, but Bryce seemed to be uncomfortable any time she was around. To her surprise, the idea that Bryce didn’t like her made her feel pretty hollow. She hadn’t realized until then how much she’d actually been thinking about Bryce, about spending time with him.
Maybe Bryce had just been going through a hard time lately, though. Maybe he was depressed and didn’t want to talk to anybody.
Except, she saw him talk to Kenneth and Dwight, and some of the other guards, often enough. It was only her that he was trying to avoid.
Now, Elizabeth just wanted an answer, she wanted to know if Bryce had ever SAID anything about her to his friends, anything that may have indicated he found her irritating or… Something.
She ended up having an opportunity to ask one of his friends one day, just not in the way she wanted.
That morning, she’d been on her way to work when she realized she’d forgotten to pee before heading out. STARTING a shift with a full bladder would be a terrible idea— Even with as fast as she could pee now, the early mornings were very busy and she wouldn’t have a chance to go for hours.
The nearest restrooms were quite a ways behind her by that point. She’d have to turn around, walk all the way there, pee, and come back. It would take too long, she’d end up being late. There were plenty of bushes around, however. And she had the medicine spoon device. She’d never urinated outdoors when a toilet was just ten minutes away, but this was a special circumstance. She’d scrub her hands a lot once she got to work. It would be fine.
So long as no one saw…
The medics were typically the only people really milling around this early in the morning. The daytime guards were still asleep, the nighttime ones were still at their posts. Elizabeth was alone. Still, she glanced back and forth before she stepped into the foliage, confirming to herself that no one was around to see her.
***
Dwight had been pretty worried about Kenneth the last few days. The medics had assured him over and over that Kenneth’s cold was absolutely NOT going to be fatal, but Dwight worried anyway. He’d been struggling to sleep through the night. Part of it was the stress, but most of it was the discomfort he now felt if he tried to fall asleep WITHOUT Kenneth in the bed with him. He’d toss and turn, reaching his arms out and trying to grab something warm and comforting, but Kenneth wasn’t there. He’d attempted to use his pillow as a substitute for Kenneth, but this hadn’t worked. If anything, it had just reminded him even MORE of the fact that Kenneth was somewhere else.
Dwight had barely slept at all last night. His bed had been so cold and empty, and without the sound of Kenneth snoring or muttering, the room had been too quiet. Because of this, he’d gotten up earlier than usual. He visited Kenneth three times every day, in the morning, during his break, and at night until the medics kicked him out. If he left now, he’d have extra time to spend with his sick friend this morning.
He got dressed as fast as he could and started to run in the direction of the medical building. It didn’t take long for the harsh thwacks of his boots against the ground to travel through his body and remind him that he’d rushed out without peeing. His bladder was still containing everything from last night.
That wasn’t a problem for Dwight at all, though. He just had to find a bush, and there were plenty of those around. ‘Kenneth says to stop pissing right out where everyone can see…’ Dwight thought, deciding NOT to relieve himself onto the very first bush he saw. Instead, he pushed further into the foliage, trying to make himself a little more concealed. The more he walked through the bushes, the more eager his bladder got. He had to tense his thighs a little while he pressed his way past a few branches, and—
What.
What the Hell?
Dwight’s need for a piss faded from his mind, the pressure within him no longer registering as he just stared, wide-eyed, at one of the oddest things he’d ever seen in his life.
He wasn’t alone back here. Elizabeth was here too. And she was peeing like a man. Her legs were spread apart, her shoulders were back, and a stream of liquid was spraying forwards into the bush in a clear, straight arc. Dwight was so utterly confused by the sight that he spoke before he could think better of it. “I thought girls couldn’t DO that!”
Elizabeth jolted hard, and something dropped out of her hand to land in the grass between her feet. Dwight couldn’t tell what it was, but he watched as Elizabeth quickly retrieved it and stuffed it inside her pocket. “Wh—What are you doing back h—here?” she stammered.
It took Dwight a second to recall why he’d come here. A little flaring pulse at his urethra reminded him, and he started to bob at the knees a little. “I need to pee!” he said. “Sorry that I— Oh, wait! I know!” He turned around, pulled down his zipper, freed himself and allowed his urine to gush into the grass. “Mmm,” he murmured, feeling the tension slide off of his back. “There! Now we’re even!”
Elizabeth stared at him, her mouth forming a harsh line. At least, if someone HAD to catch her doing that, it was someone who obviously couldn’t care less about it.
Dwight finished and yanked his zipper back up, turning to face her again. “How come you can pee standing up?” he asked immediately. “I’ve never seen women do that before… I mean, I haven’t seen women PEE at all before, except when I was little and forgot to knock on the door sometimes, but they were always sitting down. Which I thought made sense because they didn’t have anything to point and shoot with. But, YOU were—“
“Dwight…” Elizabeth said. “Can you at least speak a little softer about this?”
“I’m sorry,” Dwight said. “I’m just really curious, that’s all! You don’t have to explain it if you don’t want to, if you’d rather keep it a secret that’s fi—“ he stopped. “Oh, wait, hold on…”
“What…?” Elizabeth asked, dreading the answer.
“Ummm…” Dwight said. “Can you pee really far?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, a long distance?” Dwight asked. “Can you pee as far as a guy can?”
Elizabeth looked away. “It’s not like I’ve watched men pee before…” That wasn’t completely true. She’d watched Bryce pee the day she’d needed to help him with his zipper. But, he’d been sitting down that time, so she didn’t find out how far he could go. “Why does it matter?”
“Well…When I was a kid, the boys at the orphanage, they sometimes had contests to see who could pee the farthest.”
Elizabeth wrinkled up her nose. “Why…?”
“I don’t know why,” Dwight said. “But, none of them ever let me play because they said I was too small and— I— I mean— They were talking about my height! They said I was too short! That’s what was small— I—“
“Dwight…” Elizabeth sighed. “I really do need to get to work soon, you know?”
“Well, a—anyway,” Dwight said. “I always wanted to play because I felt left out. And then I met Kenneth, so I had a friend to play with… Except trying to pee for a contest made him nervous, so he couldn’t go. Then, when I came here and met Bryce, I asked if HE could do it with me, but he just said that if I ever asked him for that again he’d bludgeon me to death with a cuckoo clock. So, I figured I didn’t have any friends that would ever do this with me— But, YOU’RE my friend, so I was wrong! I just never thought to ask you!”
“Dwight, I— You want to do a contest to see who can—“
“Who can pee the farthest,” Dwight nodded. “We’ll go out into the field I guess, and try to shoot our streams as far away from ourselves as possible.”
“But…Why…?” Elizabeth asked again.
“It always looked really fun when the other kids did it,” Dwight shrugged.
“What was the point, though?” Elizabeth tried again. “Did the winner get anything?”
“Bragging rights, I guess.”
“Bragging rights,” Elizabeth repeated.
“Yes.”
“For… Being able to urinate a long distance.”
“Yes.”
“I take it there were never any girls involved in these ‘contests’?”
Dwight shook his head. “Well, no. But, the orphanage was all boys anyway, and up until now I didn’t think girls could even play this game.”
Elizabeth was not at all surprised to learn Dwight had grown up surrounded only by boys. It explained why he’d be so excited at the prospect of a literal pissing contest. “What about the nuns?” she asked. “They were all women…”
“They didn’t compete.”
Elizabeth shut her eyes tightly. The sun had barely risen, she hadn’t gotten to work yet, and her head was already hurting. She was starting to understand why Bryce had a short temper with Dwight sometimes. “That’s not what I meant…”
“Oh, well the contests were always in the forest behind the orphanage. They didn’t see. Maybe if they did, they would have made the boys let me join.”
“I… I don’t think so…” Elizabeth mumbled softly. “I honestly can’t say that I understand the appeal here.”
“It’s just supposed to be fun.”
“Peeing isn’t a game,” Elizabeth said. “It’s just something you have to do.”
“It can be both,” Dwight said, his face falling. “You don’t want to do it? Awww, but— But, I don’t have anybody else left to ask. And it’s so neat that you can play at all to begin with! I bet lots of girls wish they could!”
Elizabeth would bet NOT. But, the way Dwight kept emphasizing how amazed he was that she was even capable wasn’t such a terrible thing to hear. And, an odd part of her was even a little flattered that he would consider her for ‘competition’.
All her life, Elizabeth had been told that since she was a girl, her future was set in stone. She was going to be a wife and mother. She was going to stay in the home, cook, clean and take care of children. Her husband would do everything else. He would work. He would make money. Elizabeth would just stay at home to prepare his food. Elizabeth wouldn’t have a job, because she could never compete with men.
When she started training to become a medic, her parents had been disappointed in her. These, they said, were her prime years— The time of her life where she should have been looking for a husband, not busying herself with work that would never fulfill her as much as motherhood would. When Elizabeth said she wasn’t even sure if she wanted kids— And that she at least knew she didn’t want them just YET, they were appalled. They demanded to know what she planned to do without a family and husband to support her, because she could never compete with men.
When she started working, she was happy to see so many other female medics, it was a sign that maybe she wasn’t ‘weird’ or ‘defective’ for not being in a rush to find a husband and have children. Other women were working, too. But, then she learned that all of the male medics were getting paid more than she and the other women were. Even the ones that weren’t as attentive to the patients, or were unorganized, or couldn’t give shots correctly. And some of the men she worked with made no effort to conceal the fact they felt she shouldn’t even BE there to start with, because she could never compete with men.
And here Dwight was now, in an extremely weird way, treating her as an equal. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll do this with you, but can you do something for me, too?”
Dwight smiled brightly. “Sure!” he said. “What do you need?”
“Could you tell Bryce I want to talk to him?” Elizabeth requested.
Dwight went quiet for a second. He was expecting Kenneth to say “Why would you want THAT?” but then remembered Kenneth wasn’t beside him right now. Kenneth wasn’t where he BELONGED right now. He frowned slightly. He had to hurry to the medical building if he wanted to spend any real time with his friend… “I guess I could tell Bryce that,” Dwight said.
“Thanks,” Elizabeth said. “We can… We can do this contest thing this evening.”
“Great!” Dwight grinned broadly. “Make sure you drink plenty!”
***
“D—Dwight…” Kenneth muttered groggily through a cough. “Don’t do that…”
Dwight set down the water and gave his friend a smile. “Yay! You got your voice back!”
“I did…” Kenneth agreed. His tone was hoarse and very quiet, but he was finally able to speak. “Don’t drink my water, you’ll—“
“I’ll get you more,” Dwight said. “Don’t worry.”
“You’re gonna catch my cold…” Kenneth pointed out.
“Oh, right. Sorry. I just have to drink a lot today,” Dwight explained.
“Why? It isn’t that warm.”
“Elizabeth’s gonna do the distance contest with me!”
Kenneth tiredly blinked up at his friend for several seconds, trying to figure out what he was referring to. After a moment, he recalled the peeing contests Kenneth had tried and failed to indulge his friend in during their childhood. But, that couldn’t be it, surely? “What do you mean?”
“You remember,” Dwight said. “When we tried to see which of us could pee the farthest, but you kept getting too shy so we’d have to stop.”
So, that WAS it?! Kenneth was confused. Perhaps the cold had clogged up his ears and he’d misheard him. “But… Elizabeth’s gonna do it?”
“Yeah,” Dwight nodded. “Isn’t that neat? I never even thought to ask her before!”
“Er… But, I thought…” Kenneth trailed off. The one thing he’d always believed would make his shy bladder even HARDER to manage would be if he’d been a woman instead of a man. If he was required to take off some of his clothes all the way to urinate, expose so much of his body. If he had no CHOICE but to sit down on the toilet, in that much more vulnerable position. If he then wouldn’t even be able to aim his stream so that it landed AWAY from the water rather than noisily spraying directly into it. If he had no way to relieve himself into a container if he’d managed to find a secluded spot. If he would need to get half-naked and crouch every time he was forced to try to go outdoors. Kenneth figured that, had he been a woman, he probably would have literally exploded by now. “I thought women had to sit…?”
“I thought so too,” Dwight said. “But, I guess not all of them do. I had to go before I came to visit you this morning, and so I went behind the bushes—“
Kenneth sighed, “I am sure you were really close to a toilet. There are a few of those between our barrack and here.”
“I had to go right THEN, though,” Dwight said. “Anyway, Elizabeth was already back there and she was peeing like a man. So, that means some women CAN do that, and Elizabeth can play the game with me. And I need to drink lots of water today so it’s a good competition.”
“… Well, I’m happy you finally found someone to play with, I guess,” Kenneth said.
***
Dwight tapped his foot as he stood at his post. He’d made goon on his word, he’d drank tons of water, and now his length was starting to ache. His bladder was throbbing, begging for permission to relax. He weaved from side to side, his legs crossing and uncrossing nonstop.
“Smith,” Bryce said from beside him. “Go ahead and relieve yourself now.”
Dwight made himself straighten up. Right away, his bladder pulsated and his muscles twinged. He rubbed his ankles together and adjusted his fly anxiously.
“Relieve yourself,” Bryce sighed. “That’s an order.”
“Wh—What time is it?” Dwight asked.
Bryce checked his watch and read off the time to Dwight, whom frowned. Ten more hours until Elizabeth had said she’d be available for the contest. No way would Dwight contain himself that long. His holding muscles were trembling beneath the weight of his need already! He could go now, then have more to drink to recoup the loss. He’d have plenty of time to fill up again. “Okay,” he said, unzipping and immediately gushing a torrent into the dirt. “Phew…” he sighed, rubbing a hand beneath his navel, enjoying the sensation of his bladder shrinking away inside him.
Bryce rolled his eyes. “That feel better?”
“Yeah…” Dwight murmured, barely audible over the rushing hiss of his stream.
“You know, you can TELL me when you have to go, right?” Bryce asked. “You’re allowed to go here. All I ask is that you give me a little bit of warning first and don’t SPLASH me— Again.”
Dwight blushed, buttoning his clothes back up. “Sorry about that time,” he said. “I had to go real bad that day, and I didn’t realize it was gonna come out so fast!”
“Right, well you still could have at least let me know that you were about to start pissing so I could get out of the way…” Bryce said. He watched as Dwight opened his canteen and took several long, loud gulps. “You’re gonna have to go THAT badly again if you keep that up.”
“That’s the point,” Dwight said.
“You just like being desperate to piss?” Bryce asked. That was unusual. While Bryce could admit he enjoyed a bit of pain now and then in the right context, the internal wars his body waged every time his bladder was fighting not to overflow itself weren’t pleasurable.
“No,” Dwight shook his head.
“Then, why—“
“I’m doing a contest tonight,” Dwight said excitedly. He explained the purpose of the competition.
Bryce shook his head. “You finally found someone who will do that stupid thing with you?”
“Yep.”
Bryce shrugged. Maybe Kenneth had both finally recovered from his illness and begun feeling bold enough to try this out again. “Well, I hate to say it, but I’m going to have to bet on Paulson being the winner here. The man pees like he’s trying to put out a forest fire. He can probably spray it for miles if he tries.”
“It’s not Kenneth,” Dwight said. “He’s still too sick. And too shy.”
“Who, then?”
“Elizabeth,” Dwight replied.
And he’d expected Bryce to look surprised, maybe ask a question like Kenneth had, but instead the other man’s face just went completely pale, his mouth forming a harsh line as he stared straight ahead, falling silent.
“Bryce…?” Dwight asked. “What’s—“
Bryce grabbed Dwight by the shirt collar and tugged him closer. “What did you just say!?” he demanded.
Dwight squirmed, stumbling backwards. “I— I said Elizabeth was going to do this with me,” he said. “I know, it’s a shock that she CAN, but I’m just happy someone finally agreed.”
Bryce’s mind was racing. Had Dwight seen Elizabeth peeing with the device? Where would he have seen that? Why was he looking at her while she did something so private? How did he get her to agree to THIS? Had he threatened to tell others that she peed like a man if she didn’t do what he—
No.
His runaway brain managed to find the proper pathway again. Bryce knew Dwight. Dwight was… Annoying, a klutz, a bit of an airhead… But, he was a NICE annoying, klutzy airhead. Dwight wasn’t the sort of person that would spy on someone and then blackmail them into doing anything they didn’t want to do. A little pit formed in Bryce’s chest and he felt like something inside him was being sucked down into it. He was a bit ashamed that he’d thought, even if it was only for a second, that Dwight would do that. He took in a deep breath, “Elizabeth… Elizabeth agreed to this?”
Dwight nodded. “Yes. I went to pee behind the bushes this morning and accidentally saw her there. And I told her about the game and asked if she’d play with me, and she said yes.”
Bryce felt better with every word that came from Dwight’s mouth. Of course he’d walked in on her by complete accident. Of course he’d just gotten overly enthusiastic and blurted out things about his silly peeing game. THAT was the sort of person Dwight was. He was a bumbling, awkward guy that wanted to do something he thought was fun, not a peeping pervert looking for a way to manipulate anybody. The guilty pit inside Bryce grew larger. He shouldn’t have snapped at Dwight like that, shouldn’t have grabbed him…
“Oh!” Dwight added. “I just remembered; She said she wanted me to do something for her, too. She wanted me to tell you she wants to talk to you.”
Bryce blushed, looked away. “Sh—She does?” he asked. “But… She’s hard to talk to.”
“No, she isn’t,” Dwight shrugged. “I talked to her a lot this morning.”
“That’s because most people have something to tell them to shut up, but you’re missing it.”
“Well yeah,” Dwight said. “Kenneth’s still sick in bed.”
“I meant a brain,” Bryce corrected.
“Oh.”
“Yeah…”
“Well, Elizabeth DOES want to talk to you,” Dwight told him, taking another sip from his canteen. The major challenge now was trying to fill himself up at a rate that would ensure he had a lot of pee stored inside him by the time the contest began, but not SO fast that it forced him to relieve himself too early. He subconsciously starting to squeeze his thighs together, fists twitching at his sides. He didn’t have to go very much now, but he knew it would all be hitting him soon enough. His bladder could still remember the discomfort from earlier, and his entire lower half was still sore.
***
Time slowed down for a person whenever they needed to pee. Elizabeth’s glances were turning into hateful stares every time she looked at the clock. Time was having a lot of fun dragging itself along.
‘I have to go so bad…’ Elizabeth kept thinking. Over the course of the morning, her desire to urinate had grown from a slight urge to a majorly painful spasm that flared through her abdomen. She actually HAD time to relieve herself right now, she HAD a few minutes to herself in which she could go to the toilet and release all the urine she was holding onto.
She was frustrated with herself for letting the opportunity pass her by, and even more frustrated because she knew exactly why she was making such a terrible choice. She actually wanted to WIN Dwight’s silly, little game. She hadn’t been too concerned about being victorious at first. But, that had been before a piercing comment from one of the male medics; “If you really want to make yourself useful, how about you have breakfast ready for us every morning, little lady? Use your actual skills for once.”
Elizabeth couldn’t cook at all, and even if she could, it wouldn’t be for him. She knew she should let such things slide off of her, they were only words. So long as SHE knew her worth, it shouldn’t have mattered if nobody else did, right?
But, it DID matter. It mattered that she could do things just as well, if not better, than the male medics only to have them talk to her like she was an incompetent child every day anyway. It mattered that no matter what she accomplished, people would still look at her as being less capable. That was why it mattered that she could beat a man at something that everybody said ONLY men could do at all; It mattered that she could piss further than Dwight.
So, she held it.
***
Dwight was tugging nervously at his belt. A wave of pain was crashing through his body, and he could feel his holding muscles vibrating with the effort of retaining all his pee. He released his belt, clenched his hands into fists and tightened up his lower body, stomping his feet hard against the ground. For now, that was holding back his urge, but how long would it last? “Nnnh… Gotta goooo…” he mumbled. “I need to peeeeee….” Some of the tension faded as he gave his bladder a voice, so he kept going. “I need to pee soooooo bad….”
“You can,” Bryce pointed out, a sway in his hips as he watched Dwight squirm and writhe. For the billionth time, he wished his bladder weren’t so suggestible. So many things made him need to go. The sound of rain, the flush of a toilet, the sight of someone else struggling to hold it… Anything that made Bryce THINK about pissing would make him feel like he had to START pissing. It was so annoying. “Just go.”
Instead of whipping it out and emptying himself, Dwight asked “What time is it?”
Bryce groaned and checked his watch again. He told Dwight the time, and the other man frowned.
“Nnnh, that’s a long time left to wait…” Dwight murmured. He uncrossed his legs, switched them around and started to jiggle. One major problem was that he was IN a spot where he relieved himself frequently. His bladder recognized he was somewhere that it was okay to pee, so it believed it was going to be emptied soon and kept flaring and trying to pump its contents out.
“I’m sure you’ll have to go again by the time you have your stupid contest,” Bryce said. “If you’re not gonna pee can you at least stop tapping your feet? You’re kicking up dirt.”
Dwight hadn’t even realized he’d been tapping his feet. The only thing he’d been thinking about was piss, after all. Piss, and how bad he had to get it out of his bladder. Maybe he could let out just a little? Enough that he could hold it, but not SO much that he risked being too empty for the contest?
Dwight unzipped and aimed, relief flowing over him and out of him right away as a thick, clear stream jetted to the ground between his feet. His eyelids drooped and his shoulders shuddered. Much better, much better… After a few seconds, he thought it was probably time to stop, so he tried to clench his muscles and cut off his stream.
A horrid, pinching poke flared through his urethra, like having a sewing needle stuffed into it. His pee slowed to a dribble, stopped, and then he was spraying with more force than ever. He panted, blinking the pained tears from his eyes. He couldn’t stop, he absolutely couldn’t! Stopping hurt so bad, and peeing felt so good! He just had to finish what he’d started!
Bryce looked away from Dwight, covering his ears against the loud hiss of his stream. Bryce squirmed a lot more now that he was being forced to listen to Dwight GO rather than just endure him complaining that he NEEDED to. Displeasure rippled through his own bladder and he tightened his thighs, stamping his feet against the ground. “Hnnng…” he winced. “Almost done yet?”
“I really, REALLY needed to pee,” Dwight informed, as if that hadn’t been obvious before.
Bryce chewed on his lip, he crossed his legs, he told himself to hold it and NOT relieve himself in front of Dwight again today. A little droplet of urine formed at the tip of his penis, soaking into his boxers and— “Ah— Screw it!” he hurriedly unzipped himself and let the full swell of his bladder go all over the ground. His stream hissed and gushed and he didn’t try to fight it.
This was all Dwight’s fault, anyway. If Dwight hadn’t spent so long talking about pee, if he hadn’t pissed right there where Bryce could see and hear him, then Bryce would have been able to hold it the rest of the day just fine! It was Dwight’s fault that he’d gotten too full just now! Any other day, Bryce would have made it!
***
Elizabeth was sat outside the medical building. Her legs were squeezing together so tightly she thought she could have crushed metal between them. It was her break time now— Another fine opportunity for relief which she was going to refuse to take. She wondered if she peed NOW, she’d be able to make it through the rest of the day alright and still fill back up again by the time she met up with Dwight. Or, maybe if she just let SOME of the pee go now, she’d be able to manage herself a little better.
She stayed by the medical building during her break. She always did. There could be an emergency, after all. All the water stretching her bladder swished around inside her, reminding her that there very much WAS an emergency going on right now. A powerful spasm swept through her and she was just about to cup herself when Olivia sat down beside her. “Elizabeth? Are you alright?” she asked.
Elizabeth’s hand, halfway to its destination, snapped immediately behind her back and she blushed hard. “I’m fine,” she said.
“You look like…” Olivia lowered her voice. “You look like you may need to relieve yourself.”
Elizabeth faced away from Olivia. “I’m fine,” she repeated.
“You know it isn’t healthy to wait,” Olivia chided. “You have time to go now, so—“
“It’s— It’s for a bet,” Elizabeth stated. “Alright?”
Olivia looked confused. “Um… A bet?”
“Yes.”
“Elizabeth, you usually take such good care of yourself,” Olivia said. “I don’t understand why you’d risk your health for a bet. That isn’t like you.”
Elizabeth KNEW it wasn’t like her to do something this silly. She couldn’t believe how this weird game of Dwight’s had warped itself into some sort of test Elizabeth could take in order to prove her worth. It wasn’t like any of the men here would respect her any more if she happened to piss further than Dwight did. Dwight ALREADY respected her, and the men who DIDN’T wouldn’t even see it happen. What difference would it make, really?
But, Elizabeth would know. SHE would know that she’d beaten a man at a thing which no woman was SUPPOSED to be able to beat him at. SHE would know that she really was just as good, just as capable, just as important. SHE would know that she could do absolutely anything a man could do.
And maybe, that would be enough.
“I have to do this,” she told Olivia.
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Well… I hope you don’t wet yourself…”
‘Me too…’ Elizabeth thought. She pressed a clenched fist against her crotch and rocked back and forth into it. She was really bursting, and she needed to hope that the next few hours would pass quickly.
***
Kenneth tiredly glanced up as his friend stumbled into his room. Dwight’s legs were shaking, and his knees kept knocking into each other and making it very hard for him to walk. Kenneth half expected him to trip and fall flat on his face. “H—Hello…” he said groggily.
“Hi, Kenneth,” Dwight said, bouncing on the spot and squirming madly. “I really, really need to pee right now. My bladder feels like it’s stretching out and about to make me explode into a billion pieces. So, don’t talk about water, okay? Or lakes. Or rivers. Or waterfalls, or— Gah, don’t talk about it! Don’t you listen? I need to pee!”
Kenneth stared at him.”…Okay,” he said after a moment. “I’ll talk about dry stuff, I promise.” He sighed, thinking that very soon Dwight’s pants wouldn’t qualify as ‘dry stuff’. “How have you been?”
“Great!” Dwight said. One hand gently clasped at his front. “I have to pee really, really bad though. But that’s okay.”
“Right…” Kenneth said. He was hoping Dwight didn’t notice that his legs were crossed beneath his bedsheets. He’d been holding his own bladder for a while now, the urine bottles all in the drawer and his head still too fuzzy for him to stand up and grab one. He’d been patiently waiting for Dwight to come visit him so he could request his assistance, but from the looks of it, if Kenneth peed the sound would make Dwight burst. Hell, even if Dwight left the room first, the simple knowledge that Kenneth was going would likely cause an accident.
Kenneth could wait until Olivia got back, he supposed. He tightened his thighs, and froze when he realized one of his hands was lifting towards his mouth. He quickly tucked his hands beneath his body so that he wouldn’t chew on them. “But, other than that you’re alright?”
“Yeah,” Dwight said, bouncing from foot to foot. He wanted to talk to his friend, but it was hard to focus on anything besides the aching pain lying within his bladder. “Oooh… I gotta peeee…”
“Couple more hours, right?” Kenneth asked. He was forever doing mental calculations when he compared himself to his friend. If Kenneth was told he’d have to restrain a full bladder for a couple more hours, he’d be miserable from the need but certain he could manage it. Dwight couldn’t hold it anywhere near as long as Kenneth could, though. Two hours may be too much for him. “Think you can handle that?”
Dwight nodded slowly, uncertainly. He didn’t know if he could! At the current rate of escalation, he didn’t think it would be long until he was standing in a puddle of his urine. He would maybe be able to withstand ONE more hour, but TWO? “I— I can hold it…” he said.
Kenneth’s legs uncrossed subconsciously, moving to a different position. But, his knees kept rubbing together. “If you’re sure…” he said.
Dwight wasn’t sure. He kept trying to converse with Kenneth, kept trying to talk about things that WEREN’T his bladder, but his brain kept turning to mental images of himself standing in the field, releasing all of his pee, tension gradually flowing out… His breathing went shallow as he imagined the feeling of the relief overtaking him. It was almost enough to make him want to go right where he was…
Hss!
Warm liquid started to trickle against the front of his boxers and Dwight tightened his lower body. Something had come out! He winced, a hand shooting against his crotch. His hand didn’t make contact with any dampness, but the head of his cock felt wet— The cold sogginess teased the sensitive skin and taunted him with the prospect of better, real relief if he just gave up and let it all out.
“So, then Bryce actually chased after me, even though he was STILL covered in the tomato sauce,” Kenneth was saying, trying to recount a story to distract Dwight— and himself— from the need to pee.
“Uh-huh…” Dwight nodded, barely paying attention. His eyes kept flicking to the cabinet. There were urine bottles in there, he knew. What he wouldn’t give to use one…
Before long, his break was over and he had to return to his post. He was halfway to the door when he made himself stop, feet stomping against the floor urgently. His body was begging him to hurry to his post. As if he could force time to move quicker if HE moved quicker. “Kenneth, do you need anything before I go?”
Kenneth looked away, his need to pee had grown a lot over the last hour. Dwight’s dancing and frequent mumblings of “I gotta goooo!” hadn’t helped at all. He didn’t want to taunt his friend, but then again, Dwight was basically CHOOSING to do this to himself. “Er… Um… Could I have… One of… The… Um…”
Dwight kept shifting. He knew this was going to take a while if he waited for Kenneth to spit the words out himself, so he said “Do you need to pee, Kenneth?”
“… Yes,” Kenneth agreed softly.
Dwight opened the drawer and retrieved a bottle. Without noticing, his other hand immediately palmed his zipper, fingers grasping it as if to pull it down. Relief was in his grasp now, his bladder was thrashing madly at the notion that he was about to give it up. A twinging spasm cut through him and made a rippling shudder go up his spine, it coldly fell back down his body, plummeting into the depths of his bladder and he now had to wrap his around his dick to keep his flood where it belonged.
Dwight took a few stiff steps over to Kenneth’s bed, tossed the bottle to him with a “H—Here!” and rushed from the room.
***
Elizabeth struggled out into the field, finally starting to feel a bit of trepidation. There wasn’t any cover here, it was so open. Someone could walk right by and see her doing this really peculiar, unseemly thing. But, would that really be SUCH a bad thing? Maybe any accidental witness would simply just be as amazed by the sight as Dwight had been.
Besides, her bladder felt like a fifty pound lead weight in her gut right now. Her urethra was spasming wildly, and she kept pushing a fist against her groin but it wasn’t doing much to lessen the pressure. She couldn’t wait much longer.
But, wait longer she did. Dwight was taking a while to show up. She bounced on her heels and coiled her legs together, holding her breath as frenzied spasms traveled through her lower half. She hoped Bryce hadn’t made Dwight stay longer than usual today for some reason. She needed him here soon!
“I KNOW!” Elizabeth heard Bryce shout. “Shut up about it! We’re almost there!”
“I’m gonna burst!” Dwight was whining. “I’ve been holding on forever!”
Oh.
Oh no.
The cool composure Elizabeth had been trying to hang onto all day vanished, she was suddenly very tense, anxious and wary of her surroundings.
Bryce was… WHY was Bryce coming here with Dwight? That hadn’t been part of the deal!
Elizabeth didn’t have time to wonder, because a moment later the two were right in front of her. Dwight was tied up in all manner of knots, while Bryce merely looked irritated to be here.
Why WAS he here?!
“Bryce…?” Elizabeth said, her face fraught with worry. She was managing to quell her pee dance down to simply making subtle, little hops where she stood, the heels of her shoes almost touching. ‘You’ve peed in front of him before,’ Elizabeth thought. ‘You’ve peed STANDING in front of him. You’ve peed STANDING in front of him while he was HOLDING you… It’s okay, it’s okay—‘
It didn’t feel okay.
“Smith needed help walking,” Bryce explained dryly. “He hasn’t gone since before his break today, so I think you should start this as soon as you can.”
Okay. So he was here because Dwight was so desperate to piss he’d needed someone to lean on and assist him with reaching the field. Fine. Okay.
But it didn’t FEEL okay!
“Do you have to stay and w—watch this?” Elizabeth asked.
“Elizabeth!!” Dwight complained. “Now, please? Now!?”
Bryce was turning crimson. “I wasn’t— I wasn’t going to!” he said. “I’d never— I’m not meant to see… This.”
Elizabeth realized her hand was still cupping her groin and felt herself turning very red as well. She tried to move stop clutching, but when she relaxed her hold even a little, she felt warmth flowing down into her underwear and had to tighten back up again. “It’s just… I… I’m not sure if I want you to—“
“It’s okay,” Bryce said. “If it makes you feel too weird, I’ll leave.”
“That’s… I already make you uncomfortable,” Elizabeth explained. “This will make it—“
“Huh!?” Bryce asked. “No. No, no. No. You don’t.”
“But, you always try to avoid me, or run off when I’m talking to you.”
“Elizabeth! It’s GOTTA be now! It’s almost coming out!” Dwight exclaimed.
“Dwight, HOLD it,” Bryce snapped. “That’s an order!”
“But— But I caaaaaan’t!”
“You’d better!” Bryce shouted. He turned back to Elizabeth.“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” he told her. “You just make me feel… Stuff. And I’m not good with feelings, so I… Try not to have them. But, I KEEP having them anyway, and they’re all really confusing and tangled together, and I can’t get rid of them.”
“…Oh,” Elizabeth said. “About… About me?”
“About you. About Paulson. About Smith…” Bryce mumbled, unsure if he wanted to be heard. “About me… Everything’s just… A mess. I keep wanting things that I shouldn’t, and I don’t know what to do to make it stop.”
“I can’t hold it!” Dwight cried. “Please talk later?! Please?!”
“Er, yeah…” Bryce said. “You’d better go… Do that silly thing Dwight wants you to do now. Otherwise I’m pretty sure we’re gonna be holding a funeral for his bladder soon.”
“You’re probably right,” Elizabeth agreed. “And… Um… I guess you can stay here if you want…”
“Okay,” Bryce said.
Elizabeth stood by Dwight’s side. He was grabbing himself with both hands, anxiously rocking back and forth. “F—Finally…” he said. “Now?”
Elizabeth nodded, red faced. She lowered her underwear to her knees and pulled the medicine spoon from her skirt pocket, tucking it into place.
Dwight had been watching. “Ohhh,” he said. “S—So, you pee THROUGH a thing? That’s how it w— Ah—!” he was cut off by a jet of piss sloshing into his boxers. He’d lost many spills like that today, and his crotch felt very clammy and damp. He hurried to unzip and freed his cock, a small clear drop hanging off its tip. He squeezed himself tightly as it plinked to the ground.
“Yes…” Elizabeth said. “That’s— Bryce made it for me, actually.”
“Oh,” Dwight said, he faced forwards, still clutching his aching dick. He really wanted to let go now— His bladder THOUGHT it was time to let go! His zip was down, he was outside, it was supposed to be time to pee! He didn’t want to start too soon, though.
Elizabeth didn’t mean to, but her eyes shifted a bit to the side, and she was able to see Dwight’s penis, the view a bit obscured by the stranglehold he had on his shaft. It wasn’t the first one of those she’d seen, dealing with some of the injuries she’d dealt with, she’d ended up seeing quite a few while dressing wounds. And she’d caught a view of Bryce’s before as well… Her face heated as her brain automatically made a comparison between Dwight’s cock and Bryce’s. They were about the same length, but she thought Bryce’s was probably thicker.
“Please say you’re ready now…” Dwight whimpered. “O—Or, if you’re just getting shy like Kenneth, tell me that?”
“I’m ready,” Elizabeth said, spreading her legs apart a bit. “One… two… thr—“
Before Elizabeth could finish counting, Dwight’s stream was spraying out of him with an intensely heavy force. “Hahhhhhhh….” he moaned, eyes going droopy, vision fogging up with relief. He actually forgot for a moment that he was supposed to be shooting for distance. When he remembered, he bent backwards a bit and pushed hard, his urine firing far out in front of him.
Elizabeth relaxed her lower muscles, and she felt something warm flowing downwards, landing into the medicine spoon and trickling out the opening in the bottle… To land just a few inches in front of her.
Dwight was winning. By a lot.
She looked over and saw the position Dwight had taken, one which allowed his stream to arc out in a greater distance. Elizabeth wasn’t sure how she could DO that, gravity being what it was. If she bent back like that, the piss would flow back TOWARDS her instead of down through the spoon, it would just be a mess.
But, maybe relying on the spoon was the problem?
Without a second thought, she dropped the spoon to the ground, and for a moment her pee was spraying against the inside of her thigh. Her hands went beneath her skirt, and she used them to spread her private area slightly, then pushed with all her strength.
Truth be told, Elizabeth hadn’t entirely expected all of that to work, but it did. She was sending her stream of piss straight forwards— Without the aid of the spoon. She spread her feet more, and leaned backwards as far as she could. At that angle she couldn’t actually SEE how far she was peeing.
After a minute, her bladder started to feel pretty empty, her stream losing its power. She shut her eyes and pushed one more time. She grimaced as the last drops of her pee ran down her legs, then stood up straight again. She stared out into the field, at the two puddles of urine darkening the dirt. She blinked at them for a moment, stunned.
“Aww,” Dwight said, zipping up. “I lost… But, that was still lots of fun!”
Elizabeth turned to him. She was still surprised, not just by the fact she’d won, but by the fact Dwight didn’t seem BOTHERED by that. Even when he’d admitted defeat, all he’d said was“I lost”. Not “I lost TO A GIRL.” That distinction didn’t seem to exist in his mind. Maybe that was due to him being a ditz, lacking the awareness other people had. Or maybe, it was actually because Dwight was SMARTER than a lot of people in some ways.
He really saw her the same exact way he saw his other friends. Elizabeth had never met a man who did that.
“You liked that?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yeah,” Dwight said. “Except for the part where you and Bryce kept talking and making me hold it.”
“Heh, well, I promise I’ll be faster if we ever play this again.”
“You mean it?” Dwight asked. “We can do it again!?”
“I don’t see why not.” |
Written for the Omovember prompt "And There Was Only One Toilet".
***
All three of them had had the day off, which was a rarity. Even more rare, they’d actually CHOSEN to spend it together in town and then share a room at the inn overnight. Most of the day had gone well, but by the time they got TO the inn, both Kenneth and Bryce were bursting for a piss.
Kenneth had been an idiot, he’d thought that since he’d found that one shop with the extra-secure stalls where he could pee so easily, he could drink as much as he wanted today! So, he’d guzzled can after can of his favorite soda, and when he had to go, he’d insisted they all visit that shop.
And it had been closed for the day.
Bryce had also been an idiot, but where Kenneth at least had the excuse that he couldn’t have predicted the shop wouldn’t be open, Bryce really had no excuses whatsoever. He’d just insisted all day that he barely had to go, even as he’d started to squirm, and when it got bad enough that he'd finally admitted to it, it was too late in the evening to find him somewhere to relieve himself.
Dwight was the only one NOT about to explode when they entered the inn. He’d peed a few times throughout the day, only deciding to start holding it after Kenneth discovered he wouldn’t be able to use the toilet at the shop— Which hadn’t been TOO long ago, so Dwight was still pretty empty.
He was NOT looking forward to the argument Kenneth and Bryce were sure to have when they remembered they were ALL sharing one room and, thus, there would be just a single toilet for both of them to use. Dwight hoped he’d be able to diffuse it quickly enough. “Kenneth should go first,” he’d say. “Kenneth’s only desperate because the place where he can pee was closed. YOU’RE desperate because you were being stupid.”
Then again, Kenneth usually had a hard time going if someone was waiting on him, so maybe Dwight should tell Bryce to go first? Would Kenneth feel betrayed?
Dwight’s worries didn’t end up mattering, because he wasn’t going to be present for their argument. He bumped into someone whom had grown up in the same orphanage he’d lived in as a child, and was stuck there as the other man attempted to catch up with him.
And, like Hell were Kenneth OR Bryce going to stand around and hold it while that happened. They both hurried up to their room.
Bryce fumbled the key into the door, bouncing up and down while Kenneth jiggled beside him and muttered; “Hurry, hurry, hurry, please hurry up,” under his breath.
The door finally opened, they both rushed in and it finally hit them that there was only one restroom.
“Y—You go f—first,” Kenneth said, to Bryce’s surprise.
Bryce’s bladder begged him to take Kenneth up on the offer, but no way was he gonna let Kenneth show off how much more HE could hold, how much longer HE could wait. It was like Kenneth was saying “Oh, I’m bursting, but I can tell YOU need it even worse than I do. Hurry up now, don’t want Bryce to have an accident, do we?”
Well, that wasn’t true! Bryce could definitely still hold it, he wasn’t going to have an accident, and he could certainly hold it until after Kenneth was finished. His bladder throbbed at the direction of his thoughts, the surges powerful enough that he had to squeeze his dick a little bit tighter. God… Imagining himself waiting by the door, hearing Kenneth’s waterfall hiss into the bowl, and those ridiculous moans he always let out… “No, Paulson. You should go first.”
Kenneth was confused, Bryce was clearly dying to go. He’d expected the other to jump at the opportunity… Instead he was just still jumping in place and holding it. It was JUST like Bryce to be a stubborn asshole about this, though. Kenneth’s thighs strained together and he used the hand not being gnawed on to grasp onto his crotch. He squeezed his eyes closed. “N—No, you should go first. You REALLY should…”
Bryce was more annoyed now. Kenneth should have been grateful! It wasn’t often Bryce showed kindness like this. Even if it WAS just to prove a point. “N—No, Paulson, I insist… You first.”
Kenneth plucked the hand from his mouth and lowered it to join his other one, pressing down on himself as hard as he could. ‘Please, Bryce. For the love of God. Hurry up and go so that I can have MY turn?’ he mentally begged. “But, Bryce—“
“I can hold it still,” Bryce said. “Barely even have to go.” He released his cock for a second, then his eyes went wide as a spurt immediately seeped from his tip. Frantically, he grasped hold of himself again. “B—Barely need it!”
Kenneth jiggled up and down. His bladder was stinging, his long held urine burning down to his urethral opening and begging for release. “Bryce, I…” he lowered his voice to a whisper, in spite of their solitude. “I… I can’t go if I know someone is waiting on me to finish.”
Oh… Of course, it had to have been something like that. No way would Kenneth have earnestly given Bryce first-dibs on the restroom just out of the goodness of his heart. Still, now that Bryce’s competitive streak had been ignited, it wouldn’t fade so easily. He absolutely wasn’t gonna pee before Kenneth did. “Let’s just go together, then.”
“What?” Kenneth whined. He wanted that restroom all to HIMSELF while he used it! He could already feel his holding muscles tightening down. “But, WHY?”
“I changed my mind,” Bryce squeezed himself again. “I’m about to explode, YOU’RE also about to explode. If we’re both at the toilet, then we won’t need to worry about it.”
“But— I can’t— It’s not gonna come out…”
“I’ll only be in there until I’M finished,” Bryce said. “At least, this way, if you can’t wait for me to get done, you’ll be in the right spot, won’t you?”
Kenneth was certain now that Bryce just meant to torture him. To make him stand there and watch, his bladder roiling and refusing to cede, as Bryce claimed his relief quickly and easily right in front of him. To force him to listen to the harsh rush of his stream and the sighs that fell from his lips.
Jerk…
Bryce opened the door to the restroom, his bladder cramping and nearly causing him to go right there when he saw the toilet.
Kenneth whimpered at the sight too, scrambling in after Bryce. “You’re an asshole,” he said. “Why are you making me do this? I’m not gonna be able to…”
“You’ve gone in front of me before,” Bryce said, loosening his belt. “I’m sure you can manage it again.”
“But, you aren’t going to be… Doing…” Kenneth fumbled. He realized now that he wasn’t exactly sure WHAT to call the whole shoulder-rubbing-calm-down-thing. “You know, you aren’t going to be doing… The… Thing… That I need.”
“You can do it,” Bryce assured, lowering his zipper and aiming for the toilet.
Kenneth hurried to free himself as well, he knew the sound of Bryce’s release was likely to begin at any second, and if it DID make him leak, he at least didn’t want it to end up in his pants.
Once Kenneth was in the proper position to let his bladder flow, it didn’t. He’d expected that. Bryce didn’t start pissing either, which WAS surprising. He turned his head slightly, seeing the other gnashing his teeth and stomping his feet hard into the floor.
“N—Now YOU can’t go, either?” Kenneth huffed. This was pretty ridiculous. Bryce was apparently getting pee-shy now as well for some reason, and so they were both just going to stand there miserably and try to wait until ONE of them managed to get a stream started. All of which could be avoided if they simply TOOK TURNS like Kenneth had wanted to from the start!
“I—I’m waiting for you,” Bryce said.
For God’s sake…
“WHY?” Kenneth demanded. “We both could have peed already by now if you weren’t being so stupid!” His bladder was lurching around inside him, pulling at his taut skin. No matter how many times it chose to torture him in this way, Kenneth didn’t think he’d ever get over how agonizing it was to stand RIGHT THERE in front of a toilet, and not be able to use it. This was what he figured Purgatory must have been like…
Hss…
There was a sharp, quick trickle of liquid, and Kenneth looked down frantically. It didn’t feel like he was going, but sometimes he didn’t feel the relief until he’d been emptying for a few seconds. There was nothing pouring from his tip, though. And, just as quickly as the noise had begun, it ceased.
Bryce had just leaked a little…
“My God, Bryce… Just let it the Hell go,” Kenneth begged. “I feel like I’m gonna die.” Really, he felt like a hot poker was being shoved up into his urethra and twisted around inside of it, but that was too graphic even for someone like him, whom had an often vulgar mouth, to say.
“You first,” Bryce grunted, wrapping his hands tightly around his dick. One grasped the shaft and squeezed, while the other pinched against his opening. His hips twitched and bucked with needy spasms.
“Bryce… If this is you trying to compete with me, please stop? You already know that I can hold more,” Kenneth said. He rubbed a hand below his navel, tapping his fingers gently against his taut flesh, begging his body to let him go.
Bryce’s logical half acknowledged that Kenneth was right and only trying to hurry along his OWN relief. But, his competitive half was a lot less reasonable. It argued that Kenneth was TAUNTING him, reminding him that HE was superior! So, Bryce tensed his thighs together, and told himself to hold it.
“Bryce, pleaaase?” Kenneth begged, he’d started to hop up and down, even though he knew pee-dancing would only make it harder for him to go. It was just impossible to silence the angry yells from inside his body which commanded him to move! “Please, just go pee now? Please? It will feel better!” He realized he was voicing these pleas both to Bryce AND to his own locked up bladder. “Please?”
“You first.”
“I can’t,” Kenneth moaned. “You KNOW that! It won’t come out!” He screwed his eyes shut, bore down on his muscles as hard as he could, managing to grunt from the effort but NOT managing to let out even the smallest drop. He could feel Bryce’s eyes on him… Since his own were closed he didn’t even know if Bryce WAS looking at him, but he FELT like he was, and that was enough to plug him closed! “Just— Just— PLEASE?”
Bryce bit his tongue to keep himself from begging Kenneth in the same manner. His bladder was thrashing, wailing loudly inside him. Even with the stranglehold his had over his cock, a pale droplet was collecting on his tip. It fell with a quiet plink into the bowl, and another started to take its place. If Kenneth didn’t start peeing, maybe Bryce would empty himself out all the way drop by tiny, meager drop…
“Please,” Kenneth was babbling now, the need for relief overpowering him. He felt the pee pressing so hard against his sphincters, his bladder trying its hardest to push it out the rest of the way, but his muscles refused to cede no matter how much he wanted them to. “Please, Bryce… Just… Just pee now, okay? You’ll feel so much better if you just pee. Just— Just let it out, and— and you’ll feel… S—So wonderful. Your insides will stop hurting so bad. You’ll feel all hollow and empty and loose, and— And—“
Psssshhhhh!!!
A much louder hiss of liquid filled the room, and Kenneth blinked his eyes open. ‘Oh, thank God, he’s finally…’ A second later, he felt an immense drop in pressure in his middle, and realized that Bryce hadn’t started peeing.
HE had.
As soon as that sank in for him, Kenneth was moaning. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhh…”
“Oh, thank fuck…” Bryce muttered, loosening his own hold and releasing another loud jet of piss into the bowl. “Finallyyyy…”
Kenneth’s eyes fluttered closed and his mouth hung open as he let loose loud, incoherent noises of relief. The sound of both their emptying bladders echoed off the walls, but Kenneth was certain— and rather embarrassed— that HIS stream was the louder one. Once he was able to speak again, stricken as he was by the nearly orgasmic, pulsing haze overtaking all of his agony, Kenneth panted out; “You… Are… An… Asshole…”
Bryce blinked his eyes a bit, the euphoria slowly curing his desperation as more and more liquid pounded from his tip. “Hey… Got you to pee in front of me WITHOUT having to do the whole soothing thing first, right? That’s progress.”
“You… You and I both… Both know that’s not why you did this…” Kenneth’s chest was heaving up and down, he was going almost dizzy from how good everything felt. “Trying to… To outlast me…”
“And I DID,” Bryce said. “You went first.”
“I don’t freaking care…” Kenneth murmured. He didn’t. He didn’t care about anything except for how amazing it felt to pee. His spine shook with a long, hard shiver.
Bryce’s stream ended first, even though he’d started second. That lessened his triumph a little bit, but Kenneth had been correct in saying he’d feel way better after he’d pissed. He tucked his member back into his pants and zipped them up, and now he was just… Alone in a room with Kenneth as the latter pissed a seemingly never-ending waterfall.
Bryce didn’t know why, but he sort of… Watched. Kenneth was too lost in his relief now to notice, his eyes had shut again. So, Bryce could get away with spectating. Kenneth was sort of…
No.
He wasn’t.
He was not.
Not in a million years.
No.
Kenneth’s hair was tousled, all out of place from all the frantic squirming he’d been doing. His face was pale and flushed, tinted pink with relief. His eyes closed so gently, his mouth hanging open, as he… Made… Those… Sounds…
And NONE of that was cute. Or— Or anything else, for that matter! It didn’t make Bryce feel anything at all.
Bryce’s eyes had been possessed by something. That was the only explanation for what happened next. He’d just lost control of them, they’d chosen all on their own to look down at Kenneth’s dick. Bryce certainly hadn’t told them to do that. And he definitely didn’t tell them to keep staring at it.
Bryce felt nothing looking at Kenneth’s penis. Absolutely nothing. He definitely didn’t immediately compare it to his own, or think ‘It looks better from this angle, instead of looking straight down at it when I help him piss.’ He didn’t wonder, even for the smallest fraction of a second, what Kenneth’s dick would feel like in his hand. And he DEFINITELY didn’t think about what it would be like having it somewhere else!
He didn’t. He didn’t. He just… Didn’t.
Kenneth was finally empty a few seconds later anyway, and Bryce snapped his head around so he was facing the wall instead. He listened to Kenneth zipping back up, listened to the other washing his hands off, and he definitely didn’t have a hard time thinking of something to say. He just chose to stay quiet because he wanted to, not because he was feeling something that was making him too confused to speak!
They left the restroom, finding Dwight had returned and was in one of the beds. “Were you guys seriously pissing the entire time I was gone?” he asked.
“Paulson had trouble,” Bryce said, glad to have his voice back… Not that he’d ever lost it, or anything! “As usual.”
“Bryce wouldn’t leave me alone!” Kenneth whined.
“You… You went though, right?” Dwight checked.
“Yeah. Better now,” Kenneth said.
“Good,” Dwight said.
Then, when it was time for bed, Bryce absolutely didn’t wish that Kenneth and Dwight would invite him to sleep with them again. He didn’t mind having one of the big beds all to himself. He didn’t feel cold and lonely at all.
When he finally fell asleep, his dream had absolutely NOTHING to do with Kenneth or Dwight. It certainly didn’t have them appear without clothes on at any point. And there were ZERO moments where one of them stroked Bryce’s length, none where Bryce sucked either of them off. There weren’t any moments where Elizabeth watched any of that happen. And at absolutely NO point did Kenneth tie Bryce to a bed, coyly brandish a whip, lean down next to him and speak the words “Beg me, Bryce… Beg me now…”
Morning dawned, and Bryce didn’t need to change his boxers right away for any reason in particular. He just wanted to. That was all. |
Written for the Omovember prompt "Caught Peeing In A Strange Location".
***
Kenneth hated when The Leader sent a carriage to bring them to his villa. Kenneth didn’t like the cramped space, and he especially hated the bounciness. He only had to ride in them occasionally, only when he, Dwight and Bryce were visiting the villa AND it was pouring down rain like it was today. It was okay for them to walk through the rain other times, but not on their way to see The Leader, not when they could track mud and water into his quarters.
The rain was another thing Kenneth hated about riding in carriages, the continuous hiss and spattering of it against the roof, so loud and clear to his ears.
Because, whenever this situation came up and he had to reach the villa this way, Kenneth was guaranteed to have an extremely full bladder.
They’d catch the train, and he’d of course have to hold it all through the ride. And then, once they were at the station, he wouldn’t be able to go there either because there would always be such a large line of people looking for a place to warm up for a few minutes— Bryce wasn’t about to wait around in the rain for Kenneth to relieve himself, and Kenneth knew he wouldn’t be able to go with other people waiting on him. He also couldn’t resort to urinating in the bushes near the train station because Bryce would bark “Don’t you DARE go into all that mud! The Leader will be so angry if you show up with filthy boots!”
And Kenneth would understand that Bryce was right but… He’d just need to go so badly, and need someplace…
So, he’d have no choice but to board the carriage already desperate. He couldn’t stop at the shop along the way to the villa, the one where he’d successfully relieved himself several times in the past, because the carriage didn’t MAKE stops like that. He’d just have to sit there, wedged between Bryce and Dwight, squirming and jiggling. Sometimes, the rain would make Bryce start squirming too, and they'd wind up kicking each other over and over.
This particular voyage was shaping up to be one of Kenneth's worst.
The horses pulling this carriage didn’t seem very enthused about their jobs. They jerked around sometimes, the coachman having to steer them back, the uneven motion jostling Kenneth harshly and causing him to whimper as his legs crossed. Occasionally, the horses would just stop suddenly and make Kenneth’s bladder lurch. Every time a wheel went over a rock or bump, Kenneth would feel it. The tiniest pebble was enough to ignite his abdomen in pain.
The rain was really coming down this time, too. Loud and torrential, and the way it sloshed onto the roof overhead sounded so much like pee pouring into a toilet that Kenneth could barely hold back his moans of displeasure. Sometimes, it was so bad that he had to lean forward and press a hand to his crotch, hoping that the coachman would not choose that exact second to turn around and look at him.
He’d actually USED to like carriage rides. He went on them with Mother sometimes when he was really little, and it had been a special treat since they didn’t have much money. Normally, they walked everywhere.
Back then, Kenneth had liked interacting with the horses, and the bouncy feeling had been fun, rather than simply agonizing as it drove thick spikes into his full bladder.
Now, he wanted to ask his friends how much further it was— Though, he knew the answer, having traveled this route many times. He wanted to tell Dwight how miserable he felt and seek some form of comfort from him. He couldn’t do either of these things, he didn’t dare say anything that could call attention to his need. The coachman would hear, and Kenneth didn’t know him. A stranger becoming aware that he was dying to piss would be far more than he could handle.
Dwight didn’t really need to be spoken to about it, anyway. Kenneth’s urgency was obvious to him. When he felt he could get away with it, he would rub his thumb against Kenneth’s hand in an attempt to reassure him that it would be okay.
Kenneth tried to distract himself for a little while, recalling carriage trips with his Mother. It had been neat to see his hometown through the window, the view from up high making him feel taller. Mother would be beside him and he always felt safe with her. She said things like “Your Father has things he needs to work through, don’t listen to what he says. He’s hurt, and so he wants to make us feel hurt, too.”
Kenneth hadn’t understood back then, whatever was making his Father feel bad, he didn’t see why it meant he had to be mean.
It was scary, but Kenneth did understand it now. He understood what it was like to feel so terrible that he just wanted to make someone else feel worse. That was the other side of him, the angry side, the side that wanted him to become his Father and the one he tried so hard not to let out. The side Dwight kept away…
Sometimes, when Kenneth rode the carriage with Mother, they didn’t talk about Father. Kenneth liked those times the best. It was fun to pretend it was just the two of them. Sometimes, Kenneth would hope that they’d go back home and find out Father had run away and they would never have to see him again.
There was one trip with Mother in which Kenneth… Had to go pee. Really, really, really bad. He went before leaving the house like Mother told him to, but he’d been so thirsty that day that it wasn’t long before he had to go again…
Remembering THAT trip made Kenneth clench his thighs together and wedge a hand into his mouth to chew on it. Looking back, he was pretty sure THAT day was his first real experience of being desperate to pee. He’d had close calls before, what young kid didn’t? But, those times he’d been close to a bathroom when he’d realized the urgency of his situation, and Mother always kept Father from denying him access to it.
THAT day was the first time he needed a toilet badly and there wasn’t one available. He wanted to STOP recalling that day, but faced as he was now with a vaguely similar situation, he couldn’t get rid of the memory now that it had started to replay.
Some things about it were strange to think about now. Before Mother died, before things with Father got so bad, Kenneth… Acted different. That day, he didn’t fidget miserably while chewing on his hands until Mother noticed his problem. Instead he’d just… Said it; “I have to pass water now, bad.” He’d just said it, out loud, and at a volume high enough for the coachman to hear. And he hadn’t cared. Hadn’t felt embarrassed…
And he didn’t think that the only cause for his change in attitude was just the fact that he was older now.
His Mother hadn’t gotten angry at him for needing to go. She sounded somewhat frustrated at first, but only for the smallest second. “I told you to do that before we— Oh, but you DID, didn’t you? I remember, you did listen,” she’d said. “You just had a lot of water this morning… ”
Young Kenneth had fidgeted. He was a little panicked when he realized the carriage wouldn’t have a toilet. “Where can I go?”
“When we’re at the shops, I’m sure one of them will have a bathroom for you. Just a few minutes, okay sweetie?”
Kenneth had nodded nervously. He was scared what would happen if he didn’t make it to the shops. He didn’t want to get the carriage all wet, the coachman would be mad at him. Mother probably would be too. Father got so mad when he wet his pants, Father hit him…
Kenneth had held it until they reached the shops. But then the first one didn’t have a bathroom, and the second one didn’t, either. The third one did, but not for customers. And at the fourth one, they would need to buy something first and all the food there was too fancy and expensive for them. Kenneth had been dancing around a lot by then, trying to tell his Mother that it was hurting him to keep waiting, but before he could get the words out, suddenly he wasn’t waiting anymore….
When he’d realized he was wetting himself, he started to cry very hard. He was sure Mother would punish him, even if she didn’t ever hit him like Father did, he was certain she was going to be angry now. But, she wasn’t. She’d hugged him tightly. “Shhh… No, it’s not your fault. You went right before we left, that’s all you could have done. We were looking for so long, it’s okay…”
She’d just… Held him, assured him it was alright, and that was the end of it.
How different would things be if he’d grown up only with his Mother? They would have been significantly poorer without a man in the household, but maybe Mother could have eventually found a new, different dad for Kenneth? One that would have been nice, like her? Would Kenneth be as prone to anger if he hadn’t been taught violence was the solution to every problem? Would he still have nightmares that made him wake up out of breath and covered in sweat? Would he… Would he be able to pee and voice his need to do so as easily and freely as Dwight could?
Kenneth shook his head and tried to stop his train of thought. He tried to focus on the feeling of Dwight’s hand touching his own. It was somewhat soothing, but the pangs in his bladder prevented him from truly relaxing.
Before long, every jolt of the carriage resulted in a sharp stab of pain flaring up Kenneth’s length. His holding muscles felt raw and irritated, his eyes welling up, like the pee was trying to find any possible escape route from his body. The rain just kept gushing…
“Paulson,” Bryce said. “You keep kicking me, and I... Don't want to be shoved around so much when it's raining. If you have to squirm, move closer to Smith.”
Kenneth blushed bright red, inching closer to Dwight. “Shhhh,” he hissed, but it was too late, the coachman had turned around.
The unknown man was staring straight at Kenneth now. And, as hard as he tried, Kenneth’s demanding bladder wouldn’t allow him to hold still under that gaze. “Ah, gotta use the toilet, huh?”
The rain had made Kenneth feel chilly, but now his embarrassment was making him feel like he was on the surface of the sun.
“How bad is it?”
Kenneth stayed absolutely silent. He was fluent in three languages and seemed to have spontaneously forgotten ALL of them. The only thing worse than the horrid pressure in his middle was the heat flaming through his chest, neck and face.
“Uh, he’s… Uh…” Dwight said, trying to think of something to say that WOULDN’T make Kenneth feel more humiliated than he already did.
The coachman shrugged. “Oh, never mind, I can tell you’re about ready to pop back there… Can’t imagine the rain’s helping you out too much.”
One of the horses jerked to the side again, Kenneth released a strangled cry as he thrust a hand to his lap, unable to stop either action.
“Aw, and these unruly beasts aren’t helpful either, are they?” the coachman guessed.
Kenneth clenched his jaw against the urge to shout at the man to be quiet. It was bad enough being desperate to pee, the added weight of all this self-consciousness was hurting him more than the rain AND the disobedient horses combined. His body grew even warmer as rage joined the mix of emotions he was battling with. ‘Don’t. Explode.’ he ordered himself, realizing a moment later that he’d probably meant that in TWO ways. ‘Don’t. Explode. Don’t yell, don’t scream, don’t curse. This man doesn’t even realize he’s humiliating you. It’s not on purpose. Don’t. Explode.’
Dwight put a hand on his shoulder, and some of the anger faded.
Bryce slowly reached to pat his other shoulder, and more of it went away. The rage now was replaced with surprise, Bryce had never managed to cool off his anger before, only ignite it further.
“I’ll see if I can get them to move a little faster,” the coachman said. “Sorry, I know how awful you must be feeling right now. Try and hang on, okay?”
‘This guy is only trying to help you,’ Kenneth kept repeating. ‘He feels sorry for you.’
‘Because you’re weak,” the voice of his Father crept into his mind. ‘And pathetic. And you can’t even hold your piss through a short ride like an adult.’
No. Not now. Not now. Kenneth was already so freaking miserable, bursting at the seams and so embarrassed that it was actually causing him physical pain. The last thing he needed was for that bastard to worm his way into his head from beyond the grave again.
‘Go away!’ Kenneth screamed inside his mind, squeezing his eyes shut as he stomped his feet. ‘You are DEAD. I KILLED you, like you deserved. Put you in the ground where you belong!’
‘Yep. Buried right next to HER,’ he imagined his Father saying.
Shit.
Father knew how to cut deep…
But this WASN’T his Father— Not his real Father, anyway. The man was DEAD. The version of him that popped into Kenneth’s head like this wasn’t real. He came from INSIDE Kenneth… He WAS Kenneth. He was the part of Kenneth that hated himself.
Dwight held Kenneth’s hand again, “You’re shaking…” he said quietly.
“Sorry…” Kenneth said. “Can you talk to me? I need a distraction.”
Dwight was sure that it was just his bladder Kenneth wanted a diversion from. “Okay,” Dwight said. He started talking to Kenneth about every random subject that popped into his mind, most of them were related to food.
Kenneth responded every so often, twisting his legs back and forth, his urgency building and building until he thought for sure he wouldn’t be able to handle it a second longer.
Even when the journey had nearly ended, Kenneth knew his ordeal was far from being over. He could never embarrass himself by sprinting straight to the toilet after he’d arrived. The last thing he ever, EVER wanted was for The Leader to know he really, really had to pee. He’d know right away if Kenneth rushed to the restroom immediately after greeting him.
That was another awful thing about taking the carriage, with no pee stops along the way, Kenneth would be required to stand and make polite conversation with The Leader until he finally felt he could take a break.
“Here we are,” the coachman announced finally. As he, Bryce and Dwight left the carriage, Kenneth sat there a moment longer, crossing his legs tightly as the pain in his bladder reached a new level. Unable to resist it any longer, he clasped his member tightly in both hands, struggling to hold back his flood. Finally, he managed to leave the carriage and found himself standing half-hunched over on the ground, shielded from the rain beneath the villa’s thick canopy— But, it still managed to penetrate his ear drums and send his bladder into an angry, wild frenzy of need.
He scrambled after the others to the door and jiggled up and down as he waited for it to be opened. A servant ushered them in. The coachman walked off on his own, and Kenneth, Dwight and Bryce were told where to wait. Kenneth was immensely relieved when he heard that, he wouldn’t need to meet The Leader right away today, perhaps there was enough time for him to use the restroom first…
He, of course, knew he didn’t do well ‘under pressure’ like that, and worrying that The Leader could arrive before he’d finished urinating was sure to create a problem for him, but he felt reasonably sure he’d be able to get some relief.
Kenneth walked down the hall he knew led to the toilet, body already going loose with anticipation.
Except, when he got to the restroom, he found the coachman and a servant were discussing something just a few paces from the door. Kenneth cringed and bobbed on his feet. He couldn’t go if he could hear people talking on the other side of the door. Even quiet, muffled voices were too intimidating for his scared, timid bladder.
His mind moved at a rapid pace. He could request that they take their conversation elsewhere. But… Then they’d ask why! And he’d have to say “I need to pee, and I can’t go if I can hear you talking!”
Unacceptable.
He could wait for them to leave, but who knew how long those two were going to stand around talking? The Leader was due to appear soon! Kenneth couldn’t risk being late.
He could just hold it and go back to the main room. This was the idea he liked the least. He had to go! Speaking with The Leader could take ages, and he’d be twitching and bouncing and squirming the whole time. How humiliating!
Kenneth didn’t know WHAT he could do, and his bladder kept boiling away inside him the longer he simply STOOD there, mere feet from the toilet he already knew that he couldn’t use.
He ended up walking PAST the bathroom, ignoring a series of very urgent, confused pangs from within his bladder. Kenneth wasn’t sure where he was going now. He knew that was the only toilet here, save for the one in The Leader’s private quarters, and he’d need special permission to use that one.
He found himself at the door to one of the guest rooms. He ducked inside, wondering if perhaps having a quiet place to consider all of his options would help. He KNEW what he should do; He should just go ask the servant and coachman to stand further from the restroom so he could please use it. But, just the thought was making him shudder with embarrassment.
His bladder shuddered too, recognizing the fact he was now alone in a room, all by himself. The simple solitude was enough to send a strangled spurt of urine into his boxers, the tip of his penis feeling warm and sodden as it rubbed against the wet spot. Panicked, he gripped himself firmly with one hand while the other struggled to unclasp his belt. With quite a bit of agonizing clenching and squirming, he managed to stem the leak and release the tight strap of his belt from the stranglehold it had on his bladder.
There was a bit of relief then, but it lasted only a second before the painful, urgent pangs were back in full force. He stomped in place. “Nnnh, just go ask them to move!” he pleaded with himself. “You’re gonna wet yourself otherwise!” That would be much worse! He was behaving illogically, and he knew it. He just… He couldn’t bring himself to tell two strangers about his problem. He couldn’t do it…
He spotted two things in rapid succession. The first was the decorative vase in one corner, and the second was the large wardrobe.
‘Paulson. No,’ Kenneth ground his teeth together against the absolutely horrible idea that spontaneously appeared to him. ‘Don’t you dare. No. Just ask them to move. That’s all you have to do!’
He bent forward slightly when another heavy wave of need flared through his bladder. IT thought Kenneth’s new idea was absolutely terrific and could come up with zero reason that he shouldn’t act upon it.
‘Gah! No! What would The Leader say if you did that!?’ Kenneth asked himself. He pictured the man spotting Kenneth trying to take the vase outside to empty it, a look of pure revulsion crossing his features when he immediately realized what it was full of.
‘There is a window here, though,’ Kenneth thought. ‘You can go in the vase, then open the window and dump it out without having to walk by anybody with it.’
‘Well, what would Dwight say th— Oh, forget it, he’d probably encourage you! He’d say “Go ahead, Kenneth. Just let it out here. You’re hurting yourself!” Bryce would be mad, though. He’d say “Why the Hell couldn’t you just ask them to give you privacy like a normal person!?”’
Kenneth bounced on his heels in indecision, hands squeezing away at his dick. He didn’t dare to let go of himself, his bladder was starting to really weaken now that he was both ALONE and had an idea of how he could relieve himself here.
‘Wha—What would your MOTHER say!?’ Kenneth scolded himself. ‘Mother wanted you to be polite! She would never, EVER tell you that it’s okay to pee into a vase just because you’re too freaking shy to—‘
Another memory came to Kenneth. A time when his Mother DID encourage him to pee somewhere other than a toilet. It was a day when his Father was being particularly awful to both of them, raging through the house. Kenneth and his Mother had hidden themselves from his anger in his parents’ bedroom. Kenneth was much too scared to leave that room for anything, but… He needed to go really, really bad!
He was also too scared to talk and tell his Mother what was wrong. Only whimpering and squirming. Which she thought were just indications he was afraid. But, before long, he’d ended up holding onto his front and that made it pretty obvious.
“Shhh, shhh, shh…” Mother had soothed him. “Kenny, do you need to pass water?”
Mother was the only person who’d ever called him Kenny. It was her special name for him. No one else was allowed to use it.
Kenneth had nodded, miserable with need.
Mother could still hear Father moving around, knew he was still awake and looking for a fight… She couldn’t force Kenneth out there to use the toilet. He probably wouldn’t even make it there before Father decided to take out all his frustration on him.
Mother had looked around the room instead. There was a towel on the floor, the only thing she thought might work… “Okay, Kenny. I’ll hold this towel over you, and you can go into it.”
“I don’t want to make a mess,” Kenneth said. “I’m only supposed to go in the toilet.”
“It’s okay this time,” Mother assured him. “I promise. You won’t be in trouble.”
Kenneth recalled how it had taken a few minutes of convincing before he’d agreed that the towel was an alright spot to relieve his bladder.
Mother would probably be okay with him filling the vase now then, right?
‘Maybe they aren’t even by the door anymore, though. At least go check first!’ Kenneth took one step, beginning to exit the room, and his bladder surged so powerfully that a slosh of pee splashed into his boxers, re-soaking the drying wet patch and making him burn with humiliation and grit his teeth in pain. He hopped in place, shifting his weight all around, and just barely managed to stop himself from letting out any more.
Vase it was, then.
Crossing his legs so tight he felt them going numb, Kenneth made himself bend down and pick the vase up. It was large enough that he couldn’t grab it with a single hand, meaning he had to let go of his crotch to do it, which immediately prompted another slow, dribbling leak.
He took several comically doubled over, tiny steps over to the wardrobe and drew it open with his foot. He stepped inside and let the door shut behind him. He was struck then by how cramped and dark it was inside the wardrobe. He knew he should have expected it, but it was still making his skin feel warm and itchy.
He set the vase down, then opened the door up a crack, just to remind himself that he wasn’t trapped in here, before shutting it again.
Privacy, at last.
His bladder realized that fact immediately, letting go a few more threads and trickles down his legs. “Ah—!” he choked out around his panic. He just had to get his clothes undone, he could feel a very frightening amount of dampness between his legs, flowing down the insides of his thighs. Fighting to stop leaking, he at last managed to get his zipper down, pulling his damp member out and aiming the dripping thing for the opening of the vase.
Instantly, his straining muscles relaxed, unable to withstand the pressure a second longer. A long, ferocious jet of clear urine erupted from his tip and sprayed into the vase. His eyelids fluttered as he went light from the release of so much tension. “Hahhhh…” he moaned, unable to hold back the sound any more than he could hold back his pee.
He was pissing so intensely that he couldn’t even stand up straight, the heaviness of his relief was making his legs go weak and wobbly. He gasped and panted, feeling almost dazed from how much better he felt now that he was finally allowed to empty out.
Kenneth was lost in a haze of bliss when he heard a creaking noise, he tensed slightly, but not enough that he stopped pissing. Now that the dam had burst, it seemed there was no way to put it back together agai—
“What are—“
But, then he heard a voice and saw light spilling into the wardrobe, and it was like a cork had been shoved into him. Everything stopped, his flow ceased immediately, unbelievable amounts of relief turning into agony that was even worse than what he’d been feeling in the seconds before he’d begun peeing.
Kenneth’s first reaction to having his release so cruelly taken away was to moan “Nnnnh!” and stomp his feet against the ground.
“Wh—What are you doing?” the voice asked again.
“Get out!” Kenneth pleaded, not daring to turn around and see WHO exactly had spotted him. It wasn’t Dwight’s voice, nor Bryce’s. And he thanked God that it wasn’t The Leader’s… But all that meant a stranger had caught him at this most personal and private of moments. “G—Get out! Please? I’m not— I’m not done!”
The door to the wardrobe didn’t close. The jerk was still here… Why? Wasn’t it bad enough he’d walked in on Kenneth relieving himself in such an unconventional way? Didn’t he have enough to go tell all his friends about now? Couldn’t he at least let Kenneth finish what he’d started? Dear God, his holding muscles were BURNING. It hurt so, so bad!
“Get out!” Kenneth repeated, trying his best to summon his firm ‘don’t you dare fuck with me’ voice, but having a hard time finding it when he was in so much pain.
“Why are you— Could you not find the toilet? Come on, I’ll show you. You should have mentioned you didn’t know where it was while we were in the carriage!”
Oh. Now Kenneth recognized the voice. It was the coachman. He turned his head slightly to look at the man, whom was gazing back directly at him. He’d seen… Everything, hadn’t he? “N—No, that’s not it… I just— Really, really have to be alone right now, okay? Please? I still haven’t finished, and I’m embarrassed enough. Just leave.”
“I guess if you can’t walk, that’s alright. But, you should have—“
“Please, for the love of God, stop talking and go!” Kenneth snapped, rage now burning as much as his muscles were. He felt dangerously close to exploding— And not in the way he WANTED to. “I can’t— If you’re here, I can’t go, and it hurts! That’s why I had to do it in here! Because you and that servant were talking right in front of the bathroom!”
The coachman was quiet for a moment, and then “Ohhhhh! You— You, too?”
He just kept on talking! If Kenneth didn’t need both hands to be covering up his member right now, he’d probably try to strangle the guy! “Please. Leave,” he gritted out.
“But, I just— I’ve always thought I was the only person with that problem,” the coachman said.
Kenneth did not immediately bark another order for the man to leave. For a second, he felt too surprised to do that. He’d sort of believed HE was the only person with his… particular issue, as well. “I don’t wanna talk about it right now! If—If you have this problem, then you know how much it’s hurting me right now! Please, go away!”
“Oh, right,” the coachman said.
And, finally, the door was closed again, and Kenneth heard the guy leave the room, and at last his bladder had resumed emptying itself. “Ahhhh…” Kenneth let his eyelids fall closed, a shiver working up his back as he finally finished up.
He zipped his pants and re-affixed his belt, then carefully picked up the vase. He winced at the smell of his urine, and at how warm the vase now felt in his arms. Very, very slowly he moved to the window. Setting the vase back down, he got it opened and finally poured the contents out into the grass below. He cringed, unable to believe he’d just done all of that.
And… Fuck, that guy had seen. Had seen AND talked to him about it…
Kenneth left the room. He’d need to give the vase a proper wash later, just to be safe, but he was reasonably sure no one would be able to tell it had pissed in right now. As soon as he was back in the hallway, the coachman was by his side. “Wow, you must be feeling better now, huh?” he asked.
“Please stop talking to me.” Kenneth looked away. He had thoroughly humiliated himself before this man, he just wished the guy would drop it and pretend it had never happened! That was what a normal person would do!
“How long have you had the pissing problem?” the coachman asked, somehow still unable to take the very, very obvious hint. “For me, it started when I went to school for the first time. The schoolhouse just had one long urinal for the boys, and I couldn’t go. The others noticed and started teasing me, and I just kept thinking about—“
Kenneth heaved a heavy sigh. “The Leader is probably waiting for me, so—“
“And, nobody expects me to be like this, because I’m not normally shy. I talk to everybody, and I’m open— I’m even open about having this problem, I let people know about it so they’ll be aware I need extra time and privacy. Everybody thinks I’m really weird, because they don’t get frozen up, so they don’t know what it’s like.”
Kenneth did not enjoy TELLING people unless he absolutely HAD to. “I… I don’t… I don’t tell people. Nobody else needs to know about it.”
“Well, if you’d told ME then you wouldn’t have needed to pee in a vase,” the coachman pointed out.
Kenneth frowned, looked at his feet. That was true…
“But, it’s okay. I’ve done weird stuff because of my problem, too,” the coachman said. “One time, I had to go really bad, except the bathroom was really crowded. But, there was a lake outside, so I pretended to fall into it so I could pee there without anyone knowing.”
Kenneth groaned. He knew this guy was… Trying to be supportive, so he tried not to get too angry. He just wanted to talk about literally anything else. “I have to— The Leader will be out soon. I have to see him.”
“Oh, okay,” the man said. “If you want to talk later though, we can!”
Kenneth doubted he’d take him up on that offer.
Then again, would it really be SO terrible to know someone who completely understood what living with this issue was like? |
Written for the Omovember prompt "In Front Of A Crush".
***
Elizabeth had specifically asked for Bryce to visit her in the medical building today! He was so excited and full of energy that he decided to RUN there at breakneck speed… But, the rain from the last several days had still been pouring, the ground slick with watery mud, and Bryce’s glasses becoming fogged and dotted with droplets.
He slipped.
Pretty badly.
He landed flat on his back in the mud, one of his legs twisting painfully enough that he yelped.
Right in front of the medical building.
Right in front of Elizabeth.
So, NOW he was visiting with her for a very different reason.
“Oh, poor Bryce…” Elizabeth said, helping him back up.
Once on his feet, Bryce received a reminder of the OTHER reason he’d been in such a hurry to get to this building; Nothing was worse on Bryce’s bladder than a rainstorm; The constant gushing, rushing hiss of thousands of streams plummeting to the ground never failed to make him want to go. And, he REALLY wanted to go now.
Bryce bounced on his heels, but cringed when a horrid slice of pain rocketed up his injured leg.
“Careful steps now,” Elizabeth encouraged. “Lean against me.”
Bryce obeyed. It felt really good to press himself into her, but his bladder was still throbbing with tension. This was ridiculous! He’d relieved himself only half an hour ago, he wished his bladder wasn’t so sensitive to running water! It felt like every drop falling from the sky was somehow ending up inside him!
And now that he was hurt, Elizabeth was sure to fuss over him… Which, he supposed wouldn’t have been THAT terrible if there wasn’t something else that he needed to be doing.
Elizabeth helped him into the building, and now that they were out of the storm, she could see one of his pant-legs was ripped up, exposing some gashes in his leg from where he’d fallen. She wrinkled her brow. “Oh, that doesn’t look good,” she said.
Bryce forced himself to stand up straighter. His injured leg screamed, just not as loudly as the piss inside him. “N—No, it’s okay. I’ve had worse.”
“You’re bleeding,” Elizabeth told him. “Those are some deep cuts. You don’t want an infection, do you?”
“No,” Bryce admitted. He could hear the rain pounding against the roof, the sloshing going straight to his bladder. This wasn’t good. He was soaked through with rain, freezing cold from being out in the downpour, his leg badly hurt and wanting to pee on top of all that wasn’t helping with any of it.
Before, he’d been planning to sneak off to the toilet before meeting with Elizabeth, foregoing the embarrassment of having to tell her that he wanted to relieve himself. And, if that hadn’t worked out, he’d intended to wait for her to get distracted by a patient for a second, and then say he needed to ‘check on something’, still easily avoiding having to tell her that he was currently full of piss.
But, now he WAS her patient, and her attention was going to remain fixed on him. Heat and pressure bloomed in his chest. His choices now were to either hold it in, or tell Elizabeth he wanted a toilet break.
Of course, Bryce was just going to have to hold it.
“Mmm,” Elizabeth murmured. “I don’t think it’s severe enough I need to give you a bed here… Come with me.”
Pressing his thighs together, Bryce hesitantly allowed Elizabeth to lead him down a short hallway. He realized after a moment that she was actually taking him to the restroom, and the blush spread up to his face. Had she been able to tell somehow? Bryce had thought he’d been doing a good job at concealing his desire to urinate. He hadn’t been crossing his legs… Granted, doing THAT right now would probably hurt pretty badly.
When she opened the door and told him to go in, the unpleasant, squirming warmth that had been radiating inside him grew even stronger. He didn’t want her telling him to go pee, thinking that he couldn’t wait… “I don’t need to go,” he told her. And that was true, he didn’t need to go. He just wanted to go. Really, really badly. Those were two different things.
“Heh, not for that,” Elizabeth laughed. “I was just gonna put some medicine on those cuts.” She took his arm again and helped him inside. “Sit down,” she instructed.
Bryce looked around. The only place to sit was on the lidless toilet. His bladder was cramping hard at the sight of it, since there wasn’t even a lid shielding the bowl, his body was certain that it was time to release now. He palmed his crotch for a moment while Elizabeth had her back turned. She couldn’t be asking for him to sit THERE, right?
“Oh, and pull your pants down first,” Elizabeth added.
Oh, God… WHAT?
“Dear, try not to be so embarrassed. Just your pants,” Elizabeth said. “Leave your boxers on. I just need to be able to get to your cuts. Pull them down and sit on the toilet, I’ll have you all cleaned and bandaged really fast.”
She DID want him to sit on the toilet. With his pants down, no less!
Shaking with embarrassment, Bryce slowly unzipped his pants. The sound of his zipper being pulled, a noise that so often came directly before he started to pee, was like a siren song to his bladder. It convulsed hard inside him, a flare of need traveling down his length. He grimaced hard, gnashing his teeth. He really wanted to grab himself again, but now Elizabeth was looking…
“I’ll turn around while you take them off,” Elizabeth said. “Would that help you feel better?”
Bryce nodded. ‘Please, please turn around! I want to hold myself…’
She turned, and Bryce immediately gave his crotch a nice, firm squeeze. The relief of that was enough to draw a sigh from his lips, but all too quickly, he had to let go so he could finish taking off his pants.
THIS was a torment to his bladder as well. Since he so often sat down to pee, baring his legs like this inside a restroom was ANOTHER cue that he was about to let go. His body just couldn’t grasp that, in spite of where he was and how much he had disrobed, he wasn’t going to pee any time soon.
Finally, Bryce looked at the toilet. He could scarcely imagine what seating himself down on that thing was going to do to him. Maybe if it had a lid, he could pretend to himself that it was a normal chair, but no. He was going to have to sit directly on a toilet seat while continuing to hold back his torrent.
He could simply TELL Elizabeth something like “Oh, you know what? Being in here is kinda making me need to go a little, after all! Could I please have some privacy for a minute?” If he said that, she’d have no idea that he was actually… Maybe… Kind of… A little bit desperate to go. She’d believe him that it had just come on suddenly, a natural response to being inside a restroom.
That was all he needed to say! And then he’d have the room to himself, and he could unload all the liquid he was restraining. It would be so easy!
Except. before Bryce worked up the nerve to tell her, Elizabeth had turned back around. “Go ahead,” she said. “I know it’s embarrassing, just pretend it’s a chair.”
“O—Okay,” Bryce blushed hard and anxiously sat down on the toilet.
And… Holy fuck… Bryce’s bladder felt like it was being snapped in half! He was sitting on a toilet seat, the bowl right underneath him. He could feel the cold porcelain against his thighs even through his boxers, all the familiar tactile sensations that told him it was safe to pee. But, his boxers were still up, still in the way, still about to get drenched should he relax himself even the tiniest bit… And Elizabeth was still here, and he had to hold it. He had to hold it. He had to hold it! Even though it hurt really, really badly. Even if the pain in his abdomen was far outweighing the ache in his leg. He had to hold it. Don’t let it out, don’t let it out, don’t let it out!
Bryce’s face scrunched up, his mouth twisting into a grimace and his eyes screwing shut. He just had to forget where he was. Had to convince himself that he wasn’t on the toilet. He was somewhere else. Somewhere with no restrooms, or bushes, or bottles. Nowhere to pee, so he just had to wait.
Elizabeth frowned at the pain present in Bryce’s features. “It’s alright,” she told him. “That was a bad fall, but I’ll make your leg stop hurting.”
Bryce could barely even FEEL his leg anymore. All he could feel were the oceans of pee colliding inside his bladder, the quivering in his sphincters as the urine desperately tried to flow through them. He tensed his thighs, since it was all he could do to alleviate the pressure. “Please, hurry?” he asked, his voice sounding utterly pitiful even to himself.
Elizabeth reached into the cabinet below the sink. She withdrew a bottle of medicine and some cotton balls. “I’m sorry, this might sting some,” she warned him.
Bryce didn’t think anything could possibly sting as badly as his urethra was, straining hard against a wave of barely contained piss. “Just hurry…” he repeated. Unable to stop himself, he started to shift around on his seat, rocking from side to side. All this did was irritate his bladder further, the liquid inside of it being sloshed back and forth with the motion.
“Try and hold still, okay?” Elizabeth encouraged, kneeling down in front of him. “I’m just going to put a little medicine on you now…”
With a loud boom of thunder, the noise of the rain pelting down increased dramatically. Bryce shuddered at the sound. A wave of desperation hit him as the rain hissed away and Elizabeth dabbed the medicine against his cut. She was right, it did sting, quite a lot. “Nnnh!” he kicked his other leg out from the discomfort. It wasn’t just the pain of the medicine being applied, it was the way the rest of his body RESPONDED to that pain.
His muscles all went taut, and squeezed in around his bladder, like it was caught inside a juicer. He instinctively grabbed onto his dick again when he felt a drip beading at his tip. He was too late, and he felt it seep into his boxers anyway.
“Shhh,” Elizabeth said. “I know, it hurts… But, it will help your cuts stay clean.” She started to dab around another cut, and Bryce became more accustomed to how that felt. His bladder kept lurching every time he felt the burn in his leg, but he didn’t lose any more drops.
But, then Elizabeth moved onto his deepest cut, and the pain of the medication being smeared into the slice made him suddenly collapse back in pain. The only thing worse than the medicine was how furiously his abdominal muscles dug into his bladder, and—
Elizabeth froze when she heard the sound of liquid trickling against liquid, punctuated by a tiny hiss that didn’t sound like it was coming from outside. It took her longer than it should have to figure out what the noise had been, but then she said “O—Oh dear… Do you… Actually need to USE that toilet right now, Bryce?”
Bryce nodded, blushing furiously. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t hold it, and he COULDN’T let himself have an accident when he was literally sitting on a toilet!
Elizabeth felt silly asking this next question, the leak she’d just heard should have been answer enough. “Can you wait until I finish with your leg?”
Bryce was shaking his head wildly, face going redder and redder, and when another spurt dribbled into the bowl his eyes blew wide open.
“Okay,” Elizabeth said. “That’s fine. You should have just told me that you needed to go. Do you need help getting up for a second?”
Bryce DID need help standing up, and not just because of his hurt leg. His bladder had no room left inside of it, even the smallest motions made it roll over and slam itself against the walls of his body. He was going to burst if he stood up. He didn’t think he COULD stand up. Even with help, he doubted it was possible.
Bryce shook his head, “N—No,” he managed. Because if Elizabeth tried to move him right now, he knew he’d likely just explode. “I’ll just…” he spread his thighs apart, rolled up one of the legs on his boxers and gently positioned his member so it was now pointing down into the bowl. He did this sometimes if he had to pee in the middle of the night and he thought it would be too cold to pull his boxers down. A jet of pee erupted from him as soon as the fabric was out of his way, he cringed and clamped off his flow anyway. ‘Don’t pee in front of her!’ he begged himself. ‘Not again! Hold it!’ He managed to keep the remainder of his flood at bay for a second, long enough to squeak out “Could y—“
But that was it, then he was gushing uncontrollably, his stream loudly slamming into the water beneath him, and there was nothing he could do to make it stop. “A—Ah—Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh…..” Bryce’s panicked yelp transformed into a relaxed, pleased moan when the relief overtook all other stimuli. Finally, he was pissing for all he was worth, his painfully inflated bladder shrinking away to nothing.
At first, Elizabeth thought he was wetting himself on the toilet, but he seemed a bit TOO happy right now for that to be the case. She realized that he’d lifted one of the legs of his boxers so that the material wouldn’t get hit by his stream, and then just let it go. That was an…Interesting way to piss. Not that she’d spent much time observing anybody’s pissing habits.
She had to admit she didn’t exactly mind observing Bryce’s right now, though. It was nice to see him look a little bit less stiff and uptight for once. Instead, just slumping over and doing what came naturally.
But, another thing that came naturally to Bryce was the apology he was firing off once a few seconds had passed and the relief was no longer as mind-numbing. “Elizabeth— I’m— I’m sorry! I— I can’t believe I’m— I should have waited, I just couldn’t!”
“Bryce, it’s okay,” Elizabeth said gently. “I’ve seen people pee before. I’ve seen YOU pee before. It isn’t a big deal.”
Bryce’s bladder kept pouring, even when the embarrassment tinged his cheeks pink and made his spine stiffen, his stream didn’t slow down at all. If anything, it only got more powerful. His face heated up as Elizabeth just kept standing there beside him, the room silent save for the furious rush of his pee. “I’m sorry…” he repeated. “Almost done.”
That was a complete lie, as he didn’t feel even close to empty. He liked having a large bladder most of the time, but when he was awkwardly sitting there, waiting for it to drain out so that Elizabeth wouldn’t be listening to him gush anymore, he wished it were a little smaller.
Making him blush even more, Elizabeth said “It’s okay, take your time.”
To Bryce’s dismay, he DID end up taking his time. Even as forceful as his stream was, there had just been SO MUCH inside his bladder that it took FOREVER for him to get finished. When the final drops had seeped from his urethra, he kept sitting there and shuddering.
After a few solid seconds without any hissing noises, Elizabeth asked “Done?”
Bryce nodded timidly. “I’m so sorry…” he said again.
“It’s okay…” Elizabeth promised. “I’m not offended just because you needed to pee really badly. I just wish you’d SAID something about it sooner.”
“I… I had to go since I came here,” Bryce admitted. “That’s part of why I was running… The rain, it… It bothers me.”
Elizabeth frowned. Bryce had actually managed to injure himself because he hadn’t relieved his bladder before it became an emergency. And then he’d decided to CONTINUE holding it even after that. “Bryce, can you please TELL me if you need the toilet?” she requested. “I understand feeling embarrassed, but I was trying to help you today, and I didn’t realize I was just making you suffer.”
“Y—You weren’t making me suffer,” Bryce promised. “The medicine hurts, but—“
“I was causing you to hold your bladder. Because I didn’t know you WERE holding it. I thought you were squirming because of your leg.”
“I’m sorry…” Bryce said. “I don’t want you to worry.”
“I won’t if you promise to tell me when you need something,” Elizabeth said. “I don’t like it when someone doesn’t communicate with me. Especially if it’s important.”
“Eheh,” Bryce rubbed the back of his neck. “Um… It was just peeing. It’s not that important.”
“That looked like it was pretty important,” Elizabeth said. “You needed that awfully bad.”
“Er… I could have—“
“Don’t you DARE try to tell me you could have waited,” Elizabeth said. “I asked you if you could hang on until I’d bandaged your leg, and you completely panicked. You couldn’t even wait for me to leave the room before you went.”
Bryce stared down at his lap. He felt like he was under a spotlight. “Alright…” he sighed. “Alright… I… I was bursting. And, if I’m ever bursting again, I’ll tell you.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said.
Bryce kept blushing. God, why was he… Why was he feeling so— He was so humiliated, but there was something underneath the embarrassment. A funny, little tingle. Elizabeth was scolding him, being so firm with him. Fuck no, he wasn’t supposed to be having these feelings when he was in the real world, when he was with the people he actually KNEW. He was only supposed to have them when he visited his secret club and fooled around for a night. The feelings were supposed to stay there, they were not allowed to follow him outside.
Elizabeth finished cleaning Bryce’s cuts and started to wrap a bandage around his leg. All the while, Bryce was fighting his imagination. ‘Bryce, I told you that you have to tell me when you need to pee…’ The Elizabeth in his daydream chided. ‘Now look at yourself, you’re so desperate you can hardly even walk… If you don’t learn to start listening to your body, maybe I should make you have an accident…’
Shitshitshit… Pee stuff had never, ever been a factor in any of his fantasies before. It had never been a factor in any of the things he explored at that club. Yes, he knew there were people in the club who… Enjoyed things relating to urination, but Bryce was not one of them. He didn’t like holding his pee, or… Or proving to himself that he could withstand his need for ages and ages.
He did DO that an awful lot though, didn’t he? Especially for someone who ‘didn’t like it’…
But, holding it hurt! And it wasn’t like being whipped, where beneath all the pain there was an intense thrill of showing himself and whoever was whipping him just how much he could take! Not at all!
‘Oh, wow,’ he pictured Elizabeth saying. ‘That’s so much! How did you ever fit all of that inside you? Poor Bryce, he’s getting so, so wet with all that pee, isn’t he?’
‘WHAT. THE. FUCK,’ Bryce shook his head frantically, trying to clear away those thoughts.
Elizabeth had finished with the bandage. “There we are,” she said, helping Bryce stand up again. He cringed, there was some dampness at the back of his boxers. When he lifted one leg up while sitting to piss during the night, he was never very desperate to go. He’d just let out a trickle, there wouldn’t be splashback to worry about hitting his clothes. This time had been different, he’d pissed violently and forcefully and some of it had sloshed back onto him.
He pulled his pants up, zipped them, and hoped Elizabeth hadn’t seen the damp spot.
“Feeling more comfortable now?” Elizabeth asked.
“Y—Yes…” Bryce lied. He wasn’t comfortable, his imagination in the last several minutes had made him EXTREMELY uncomfortable. ‘Calm down,’ he begged himself. ‘You— You’ve ALWAYS been interested in… Unusual things. You like ropes. You like whips. You once jacked off while imagining someone forcing you to swim through glue for some fucking reason. If THIS gets added to the list, it won’t even be the strangest thing on it! Why are you freaking out?’
When he fantasized about his other kinks, he didn’t involve people that he knew outside the club.
This was the first time he’d seriously thought about doing something so kinky with a person who was part of his every day life.
‘That’s… Probably not too bad. Elizabeth’s always made you feel funny, at least it was just her and not—‘
‘Bryce, that is pathetic!’ Bryce’s train of thought was suddenly interrupted when Kenneth suddenly popped into his mind’s eye. He was wearing an extremely revealing rubber and latex suit for some reason and brandishing a whip. ‘I can’t believe you’d pee yourself after just six hours of waiting! How utterly humiliating for you! I’m going to have to teach you a lesson!’
‘That’s right, Bryce!’ a dream-version of Dwight said. He too was wearing the same latex outfit. ‘Over Kenneth’s knee now!’
‘Ohh, poor Bryce!’ dream-Elizabeth cooed. ‘I told him to start listening to his bladder! He really DOES need a lesson!’
“Bryce…?” the real Elizabeth asked. “You are looking a little pale… Are you sure you’re feeling better?”
Bryce felt like he was going to either hyperventilate or spring an erection. Maybe both. |
Written for the Omovember prompt "Wetting On Purpose".
***
Dwight was in such a rush to get back to his barrack. He hadn’t been able to take a leak all day! Bryce had ordered him to sort things in one of the supply rooms again, and the restroom in that building had been out of order. Naturally, he’d tried to just pee outside instead, only for one of his other superiors to stop him and order him to finish his work before he left. “I’ll only be a minute!” he’d tried to argue. But, it hadn’t worked. Even Bryce talking to the other man and explaining that Dwight just needed a moment to relieve himself hadn’t gotten him a break.
Once he was finally dismissed, he’d intended to piss as soon as he was a few steps away from the building, but then when he’d gripped his zipper, it had refused to budge no matter how hard he fought with it.
So, that was why he was dying to get back to the barrack so that Kenneth could help him. His bladder was boiling away inside him, this was way, WAY longer than he was used to holding it for! His body was utterly confused why all this pee was still inside of it, it recognized he was outside, where he could go wherever he wanted. It didn’t understand concepts like ‘zippers’.
He made it to the barrack, and was happy to see Kenneth was already there… And looking unusually relaxed, so he’d probably just finished pissing out the entirety of today’s urine a little bit ago.
Kenneth glanced at Dwight for a second, noticing the hands clutching between his legs and the way his knees were knocking. “I don’t need it, you go ahead,” he said dismissively, waving in the direction of the restroom.
“I—“ Dwight hopped urgently on his feet. “Kenneth, I need to pee sooo bad!”
“I know,” Kenneth shrugged. “And I mean it, you can go now.”
Dwight’s grip on his dick tightened when he felt a few errant dribbles seep into his boxers. “But, Kenneth—“
“Seriously, don’t worry about me. You aren’t gonna be forcing me to hold it, just—“
“My zipper is stuck!” Dwight exclaimed, his bouncing increasing in speed as he tried to ignore the warmth he felt within his cupped palms.
Kenneth stared at his coiled up, squirming friend. “Oh…” he said. “You want some help?”
“Yesss!” Dwight hissed. “Please hurry? I haven’t gone at ALL today!”
Kenneth’s eyes widened. It was a wonder Dwight was still holding it when it had been THAT long. He hurried over to his friend’s side. “I’ll get it,” he promised, ushering him into the restroom.
Dwight groaned and whimpered in protest. He didn’t want to have to look at the toilet the whole time!
“This way, you’ll be able to go the SECOND I get you out,” Kenneth reasoned. “And, I promise, I’ll have you out really fast!” He brushed Dwight’s hands aside gently, and Dwight reluctantly complied with that even though it made his need to go so much stronger.
When Kenneth’s knuckles accidentally grazed against the hard stone of Dwight’s middle, however, Dwight couldn’t help but react. He jerked backwards, accidentally sucking in his stomach and pulling his skin tightly around his aching bladder. “Ahhh—- Oh my Goddddd, I need to gooooo!”
“S—Sorry,” Kenneth said quickly. “I didn’t mean to press there!” At least, with Dwight being so vocal, Kenneth was sure to be alerted if he made that mistake again…
“I—It’s okay,” Dwight said, clasping his hands behind his back so that he wouldn’t grab himself again. “J—Just please hurry, okay? I need to go really, really bad!”
“I know…” Kenneth mumbled, returning to Dwight’s zipper. At least, now that Dwight had started babbling about his urgency, he seemed to be fidgeting around a little less. That made Kenneth’s job easier, made him less likely to accidentally poke his friend’s bladder again.
“Gotta goooo…” Dwight muttered. “Fuckfuckfuck, I need to peeeeeeeee…. I can’t wait, I can’t wait….” Giving a voice to his bladder was helping him calm down a bit, but before long the need to move around was rearing its ugly head again. He began to rock on his heels, very slight and subtle at first, but soon it was rapid, desperate and so frantic Kenneth couldn’t fiddle with the zipper any more.
“H—Hold still…” Kenneth scolded him.
“I’m sorry, Kenneth!” Dwight said, trying to obey. As soon as he ceased rocking, a spurt audibly hissed out and he ground his thighs together to keep anything else from leaking. “I just— I need to go soooo bad! I can’t stay still!”
“Well, TRY to, okay?” Kenneth said. “You’ll be able to pee a lot sooner if you stopped wriggling like this.”
“I’m TRYING!” Dwight protested. He clenched his thighs, tensed his legs, his abdominal muscles went rigid as he tried to fight the tide without moving or grabbing his cock. These attempts were less than successful, dribbles continually rolled down his legs, broken up by loud, hissy leaks as his boxers quickly grew sodden and warm. “Oooooh, hurry! Kenneth, please?”
“I’m TRYING!” Kenneth echoed Dwight’s whine from earlier. “It’s really caught! I can’t get it to move at all!”
That news devastated Dwight, and his bladder cramped even harder. This time, he didn’t just spurt or dribble, he just started PEEING a full-blown stream, and it was gonna get on Kenneth, and— “Ahh!” He gasped, doubling over, clutching himself and crossing his legs tightly.
Kenneth had barely moved his hands out of Dwight’s way as he’d dove to grip his crotch. “I—I can’t help if your hands are in the—“
“I can’t— I can’t hold it!” Dwight cried. “Kenneth, please? I’ve been— I haven’t gone since this morning, I can’t wait anym—“
“I’m fixing your zipper as fast as I—“
“Can’t I just go?” Dwight begged. He looked up from his hunched position, his eyes wide and watering. The pain inside his body was almost making him cry… His bladder didn’t feel like a bladder anymore. It was something else entirely. Like a heavy, leaden orb. Yes, that was it. A heavy, leaden orb, this immense, powerfully crushing weight in his center that was constantly dragging him down, constantly pushing against his sphincters with so much force that they were starting to rip in half. “Please? Please just let me go?”
Kenneth was extremely confused. Did Dwight need a piss so bad that it was making him delirious? He REMEMBERED why he was holding it, right? He still knew his zipper was stuck? “I promise, I’ll get your—“
“N—No,” Dwight shook his head. “I mean… I wanna just… Go. It keeps coming out, and it hurts, and I can’t hold it…” His bladder agreed with him, and another trickle sloshed down his leg. “I wanna go… Just… Not when your hands are over my—“
“Oh…” Kenneth said. He was still fairly perplexed. Dwight WANTED to give up and just have an accident? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing? Wouldn’t that make him feel disgusted, at least a little? A few times, Kenneth had actually tried to deliberately wet his pants to make the pain stop, and his shy bladder had never allowed it.
If Dwight was in pain, and DIDN’T have that same anxiety to deal with, then maybe this WAS the better option? Kenneth couldn’t get that zipper apart with Dwight jumping all over the place, after all. And, he certainly didn’t like knowing that his friend was being hurt… “Are you sure?” he asked.
“Y—Yeah,” Dwight grunted around the bloated ball of tension that seemed to be encompassing his entire lower half. “If I move my hands, I’m gonna pee. And if you’re messing with my zipper, I’ll just piss a—all over you. It’s best if I j—just get it out and then w—worry about everything else.”
Kenneth would definitely prefer to AVOID Dwight peeing on him. “But, you’ll have to… Sit in it until we can get your zipper fixed…”
Dwight hadn’t really been thinking about that part. He’d really only been thinking about the part where he got to GO. The aftermath was certainly going to be awful uncomfortable for him. As he thought about it, he felt his hands growing warm as more urine slid free from his bladder. “I d—don’t have a choice. It’s gonna come out. I wanna get it over with.”
“Okay…” Kenneth said. “Just… Er, sit on the toilet first? Before you… Do it? We won’t have as much to clean up that way.”
Dwight nodded. “Th—Thank you…” he said, shuffling over to the toilet and lowering himself onto the seat. He was still holding his crotch, not quite ready to give in to his body just yet. “Th—This is okay?”
“Yeah,” Kenneth shrugged. “If you’re sure this is what you want to do…”
It wasn’t really what Dwight WANTED to do, it was just that this was the best option he had at the moment. This way, he wouldn’t have to worry about getting Kenneth wet, and the floor would be spared. He let go of himself.
He was shocked, but it took a second for him to start going. It just felt so WEIRD to be sitting on the toilet with his pants still up that his bladder must have gotten confused for a second. But, once it realized Dwight was giving it the signal to release, it well and truly split wide open and he was peeing a heavy, forceful gush into his pants. The liquid jetted into the material, causing it to grow heavy and warm. “Phew… I’m going now, Kenneth…” he said.
Kenneth had spun around to face the opposite direction. “Er, yeah. Thanks for the update, I guess.”
Dwight had released enough now that it was beginning to splash into the bowl, the noise mixing with the hiss of his clothes getting soaked. All things considered, this felt really, really good. Maybe not the warm, sticky feeling coating his crotch and making its way down across his ass, but his poor holding muscles had been straining for so long that finally letting them ease felt almost orgasmic. A small sigh fell from his lips.
Kenneth kept staring at the wall, his back going very stiff. He’d seen and heard Dwight piss lots of times, and had seen him wet his pants on a few occasions as well. What was going on behind him felt completely different though, the guy was peeing himself on purpose, and it sounded like he was enjoying it… All the watery noises of his friend’s pee sloshing out was also making Kenneth sort of need a toilet break himself…
“Mmmm…” Dwight’s eyes drifted shut, and he focused himself entirely on just the sensation of release, trying to blot out the gross feeling of his drenched pants clinging to him. He’d definitely held it too long today, he didn’t know if he’d EVER stop peeing… “Wow, I REALLY had to go…” he mumbled to himself.
“Uh, yeah…” Kenneth said awkwardly. “I— I gathered that…”
The last of Dwight’s pee finally exited his bladder and he at last felt empty. Little streams and drips kept falling from his pants and landing in the bowl, though. His clothes looked like they’d been through a hurricane… “All done, Kenneth.”
Kenneth sucked in a breath and prepared to turn around. How the Hell was HE more embarrassed by all this than Dwight apparently was?! “F—Feeling better?” He asked quickly, forcing a smile as he faced his friend.
“Yeah,” Dwight nodded. “I needed that bad.”
Kenneth gave a small, half-nod. “Alright…” he said. “Glad you’re… more comfortable now.” He knelt down in front of Dwight. “Just—Stay sitting there until I get the zipper apart, in case any more drips come off of you…”
“Okay.”
Kenneth had an easier time fixing Dwight’s zipper issue now. He did cringe at the wet, clammy feeling over his friend’s crotch, but supposed that couldn’t be helped. He didn’t think he’d ever seen or heard Dwight pee that much all at once before, he’d been telling the truth that he couldn’t wait any longer. Kenneth would prefer having to touch Dwight’s pee-soaked clothes over GETTING pee-soaked himself.
At last, he yanked the zipper apart and told Dwight he could stand up. Dwight got off the toilet and started to strip off his wet pants. Truth be told, he didn’t even feel that humiliated by all of this. Only Kenneth had been around to see it, and he’d been looking the other way the whole time. Dwight would just get his stuff washed and no one would ever know that this had happened. It wasn’t a big deal.
Dwight hooked his fingers into the waistband of his utterly drenched boxers and started to lower them.
“O—Oh—!” Kenneth exclaimed, covering his mouth.
Dwight turned around as he let his boxers fall to his ankles. “Hm?”
“N—Nothing…” Kenneth looked away. “W—Wasn’t expecting you to get all naked with me still here, that’s all.”
“You’ve seen me naked before,” Dwight shrugged. “What’s it matter?”
“It doesn’t— I was just surprised,” Kenneth stammered. “And— And I—“ He turned around to face the toilet. “I— Uh… I need to go too now, and—“
“Go ahead, then. Do you need help calming down?”
If Kenneth looked at Dwight again, naked from the waist down, he was gonna need to calm down in an entirely different way! “I d—don’t think so… It’s just us…” He lifted the seat and unzipped. Sure enough, his stream trickled forth quickly and easily. “Ahhh…”
Dwight started to unbutton his shirt as Kenneth relieved himself. He was about to get into the shower when he heard the toilet flush, prompting him to turn back around. “Oh, good job, Kenneth! You were able to go even though you weren’t bursting this time!”
Kenneth blushed and stared at the floor. Being praised for going pee like a little kid, by his best friend who’d just pissed his pants a few minutes ago and was now standing there nude and making him feel all… FUNNY, was making his face flame. “G—Go ahead and… And wash off now…” |
Written for the 12 Days of Omo prompt “In Snow”.
Kenneth’s birthday is December 8th, for anyone who wants to know the exact date.
***
Kenneth thought it was a little ironic that he’d been born in December. He was the sort of person that loved warm weather, the tropics, beaches, swimming— Basically anything to do with Summer. And he was the sort of person who hated feeling cold, hated trudging through snow, REALLY hated SHOVELING snow— Pretty much anything to do with Winter.
He really thought he SHOULD have been born in the Summer, because then he’d have ideas of what he’d want to do to celebrate. What could he even DO when stepping outside made it feel like all his limbs were turning into icicles and just taking a few steps through the stupid snow was enough to exhaust him?
He didn’t really celebrate his Birthday that much anyway. He hadn’t for years. The last time he’d done anything for it had been when his Mother was still alive and she’d knitted him a toy flamingo that he’d named Pinky and treasured with all his heart. Until a few months later when his Father threw it into the fireplace. Kenneth had sobbed as he’d watched his dear friend smolder into ash.
After that, he’d just never done anything for his birthday again. When his Mother was still around, she’d ask if he wanted something special, and he’d just say no, because he knew Father would destroy it, so it was better if he just didn’t have things. Once Kenneth had explained why he didn’t want gifts anymore, Mother had gotten a look on her face that he hadn’t been able to understand.
Of course, Father had never done anything to acknowledge Kenneth’s birthday himself. He told Kenneth time and time again that he was not something that deserved to be celebrated.
Growing up, Dwight had always tried to get Kenneth something for his Birthday, and was only successful one year when he managed to dig an old, worn atlas out of a trash can. He knew Kenneth loved maps, so it was the perfect gift. Kenneth had been grateful for it, even tearing up a little, but he’d insisted that Dwight keep the atlas to himself. “I’ll look at it when I visit you, but it isn’t safe if I bring it home.”
Even when they got older and Kenneth had escaped from his Father, he always told Dwight not to bother acknowledging his birthday. “It’s just another day. It isn’t important.” Dwight thought it was important, though. He didn’t understand why Kenneth disagreed.
Bryce didn’t understand it, either. He’d always enjoyed his birthday, the one day of the year no one could begrudge him for wanting to be the center of attention. At the very least, he made sure to give both Kenneth and Dwight the day off, he figured Kenneth would at least enjoy having some extra free time with his friend.
When the day came, Bryce was surprised to learn that HE had it off as well. And, even more surprised when Dwight approached him to request a favor. “Could you take Kenneth into town for a little while?”
“Huh?” Bryce asked. “I gave you time off so that you two could—“
“I want to surprise him with something,” Dwight explained. “I just need a few hours, okay?”
And that was why Bryce was now walking through town with Kenneth. Which wouldn’t be SO bad if Kenneth would talk to him, but he was being oddly quiet.
“Dwight’s just busy today,” Bryce said. “He’s not trying to avoid you, if you’re worried about that.”
Kenneth managed a nod, but couldn’t talk. He knew Dwight wasn’t mad at him— If Dwight was angry, he always told Kenneth why so that they could talk it out. Dwight didn’t hold grudges or give the silent treatment.
But, Kenneth couldn’t speak in order to tell Bryce that because he’d made a REALLY bad mistake.
Kenneth hated cold weather for a reason. The simple fact of the matter was that his body didn’t HANDLE cold that well. Anything below sixty degrees and he was shivering. Below freezing, like it was today, and he could feel the chill all the way down to the marrow in his bones. His teeth were chattering so much that he literally couldn’t talk.
And he hadn’t properly layered up because when Bryce asked to see him, he’d assumed it would only be for a minute and that he could go straight back inside. So, all he had on was his regular uniform, which felt thick and protective during any other time of the year, but NOW felt like it was made of tissue paper!
“Paulson,” Bryce said. “I don’t like when you’re silent. Say something dumb.”
Kenneth rubbed his arms frantically, but the friction did nothing to bring up his body’s temperature. “I— I’m s—so c—cold, Bryce…” His body shook, going numb in places he didn’t even know it was possible to feel numb.
“Ah,” Bryce said. “Is that all? Let me get you something warm…”
A few minutes later, they were seated in the cafe. Kenneth was still shaking from head to toe, shudders raking through him every few seconds. Bryce handed him a mug filled with hot chocolate and encouraged him to drink it.
Kenneth did, the warm liquid heating his insides a little bit, but not enough. He still twitched and rubbed his legs together in an attempt to get some feeling back into them. His fingers felt like they were going to fall off— God, he wished he’d at least put on some gloves! They stung and burned as sensation returned to them.
To speed the process along, he sucked on the fingers of one hand, hoping the warmth inside his mouth would help.
Bryce watched Kenneth as he fidgeted and moved a hand to his mouth. He looked an awful lot like he did when he really needed to relieve himself. Bryce almost asked him if he had to go, but stopped himself. It had been, at most, an hour since they’d left. Nowhere near enough time for Kenneth to fill up. He’d only embarrass the other man if he asked about his bladder now.
Kenneth guzzled from his mug and felt a little better once he’d emptied it. He’d managed to stop shaking, but he still felt so numb. “Bryce, I’m still cold…”
Bryce sighed and stood up, acting as though getting Kenneth a second drink was an inconvenience on par with being forced to shovel snow using nothing but a rusted frying pan. “Alright, you’re lucky it’s your birthday.”
Kenneth finished his second mug just as quickly as he’d done the first. Now that he had something nice and warm in his body, he was ready to walk around some more. The icy wind hit him in the face as soon as he’d stepped outside, and right away he was shivering just as badly as before.
Bryce watched, shaking his head. Of course the idiot was freezing to death, he hadn’t put on a coat! Granted, Bryce hadn’t exactly TOLD him they’d be spending so much time outdoors… “Is there anything you want to—“
“I— Sh—Should find a Chr—Christmas present for Dwight,” Kenneth decided, wrapping his arms around his body and bending forwards, trying desperately to conserve body heat.
The way he was doubling over ALSO made him look an awful lot like he had to urinate. Bryce shook his head, reminded himself that that WASN’T the problem this time. “You’re buying someone else a gift on YOUR birthday.”
“I keep telling you, my birthday’s just a day. And Christmas is just a couple weeks away, so I need to get him something.”
They kept walking, and before long Kenneth was experiencing another of the effects cold weather had upon him; It made him need to… go… a little more frequently than he usually did. And being cold did not make it easy to HOLD his bladder, either. The shudders and twitches he couldn’t stop from soaring through his body shook his bladder up like a soda can, just BEGGING for it to explode. And, since he lost feeling in so much of his body, it was tricky to tighten up his muscles and react to the spasms as quickly as he would like to.
When Kenneth was a kid, he’d shocked Dwight one frigid Winter afternoon. They’d been playing in the woods, Kenneth dying from the cold but putting up with it in order to spend time with his friend. Suddenly, he was hit with an intense need to urinate, so awful that he’d immediately grabbed himself and exclaimed “D—Dwight, I have to—“
Dwight knew right away, of course, and was already helping Kenneth towards a more secluded bush so that he could help him go, but by the time they were there, Kenneth had stopped shivering. His body had suddenly warmed up a LOT because his bladder had burst and dumped its contents all down his legs.
Kenneth was stunned by it as well, shocked not just that he’d had an accident, but that he’d done it outside and where Dwight could see. He’d cried from the embarrassment, and Dwight had tried to cheer him up. “L—Look on the bright side— This means you’re getting more comfortable going in front of me!”
Cold made it so much harder for Kenneth to control his body. Everything inside of him went numb and slack. He hadn’t had a cold-induced accident since the one he’d had as a kid, and it was unlikely he’d have one TODAY when they were walking by so many strangers, but he still knew he needed to get himself emptied as soon as he could. Cold could make him go from ‘I kind of need the bathroom’ to ‘Ahhh, it hurts, I need to pee so bad!’ within a matter of minutes.
Of course, he had to come up with a place where he COULD go before he did anything else. There were two locations in town where he knew he’d have success; The showers at the bathhouse, and that glass sculpture store that had the toilets with super private stalls. He felt pleased with himself for remembering.
And he could probably get Dwight a present at the sculpture store anyway. He told Bryce that was where he wanted to go, and they were on their way without Kenneth having to say one word about needing to pee! Great, he was going to get to handle this without any embarrassment for once!
The walk to the shop was a lot longer than Kenneth’s bladder would have preferred. It was RAPIDLY filling up from the two big mugs of hot chocolate he’d consumed. He kept squeezing his thighs together against the pressure, but it was hard to get his muscles to even respond. He was walking on stiff legs already, his frozen joints refusing to bend very much. He was moving in such a pained, robotic way and he felt like he had very little control over his strides. His steps were all too wide, all shaking his bladder and the pee trapped inside of it.
He kept walking in front of Bryce so he could grab at himself with his chapped hands. His fingers refused to bend correctly, refused to wrap themselves around his length like he wanted them to. All he could do was mash the flat of his palm against himself, and that did little to quell the loose, floaty feeling within his bladder.
Bryce watched as Kenneth shuddered and jerked along the street. His hands kept going around to his front, and Bryce couldn’t help thinking it looked like he was trying to hold his crotch. He HAD had a lot to drink a bit ago, though it was unusual for him to be full enough to grip himself already.
They got to the shop, which was thankfully open. Kenneth entered, feeling instantly warmer now that the wind wasn’t constantly in his face. Bryce followed him, “Which one do you think Dwight would like?”
“Uh— Actually, I need to go run some water over my hands first— If I try and pick anything up right now, I’ll just drop it,” Kenneth said anxiously. He couldn’t stop bouncing on his feet, shuffling between them. Hopefully, it looked like he was just trying to knock some of the snow from his boots.
Kenneth headed for the back, his abdomen going even LOOSER now that his bladder knew it was close to relief. To his shock and dismay, a squirt of pee soaked into his boxers, even though he knew he couldn’t have been THAT desperate already! He was even more appalled at how it had… Honestly felt good. The brief loss of tension was nice, sure, but beyond that… His crotch was getting nice and warmed up now.
He cringed at the direction of his thoughts as he opened the door to the restroom— A difficult task since his fingers STILL wouldn’t bend to work the knob correctly. Another dribble seeped out of him as he scurried for a stall. Fuck, he knew he wasn’t even THAT full! Just, all his muscles were so desensitized. It was like his sphincters had been given a powerful anesthetic, putting them to sleep and making them forget their task.
Finally, he was in the stall. The toilet was THERE, and the lock was easy enough to pull into place without needing to curl his fingers. At last… He reached for his belt and fumbled it apart. Then, he moved onto his buttons, and found he couldn’t actually work them. His fingers just would NOT pinch against the buttons, he could curl them over partway, but then they just stopped responding.
Kenneth jiggled in place, now trying hard NOT to look at the toilet. He waited for his fingers to defrost and get a LITTLE more feeling back into them, but seconds ticked by, his bladder roiled and spasmed until he was crossing he was crossing his legs, and his fingers STILL felt dead to the world.
He knew one way to resurrect them— He could ACTUALLY go run them under the faucet to warm them up. But… Jeez, could his bladder HANDLE that right now?
It certainly couldn’t handle the continued wait…
Kenneth stumbled out of the stall, a confused and pained burst of pee exiting him as he left the toilet without even TRYING to use it. He made it to the sink and used one trembling, stinging hand to crank it on.
The sound of the water blasting out immediately sent Kenneth’s bladder into spasms of stark need. His eyes latched onto the faucet’s gushing stream, he couldn’t look away no matter how hard he tried. Waves of piss sloshed tyrannically against the engorged walls of his bladder.
He just stood there for a second, then with a moan he shoved his hands beneath the faucet. Immediately, he was doing the most elaborate pee dance he’d done all day. Jumping up and down, crossing his legs, squeezing his thighs and swaying his hips. He was flailing with urgent motion, stomping his feet noisily into the floor, he wanted to grab himself so bad… But he forced his hands to remain under the water.
His bladder cramped up hard, contracting painfully and sending another trickling burst into the material of his boxers. “Nnnnh!!” He whimpered, pushing his crotch into the counter. That helped plug him closed again, and he bucked against it, trying his best to blot out the hiss from the sink, the feeling of lukewarm liquid running against his skin. He groaned, leaning forwards and trying to press himself even more firmly against the counter.
His bladder was just… Flaring. Nonstop. Pulse after pulse after pulse of chaotic, rabid need. He felt heat trailing down his length and sucked in a sharp breath. His piss was literally right at the edge of bursting right out… “Hhhhnnnnngggg…. Ahhhnnnn…” Kenneth mewled, bearing down against the counter as hard as he could.
The worst part was that his hands were taking too long to warm up, the water from the faucet wasn’t hot enough!
Wait, no. The worst part was that he now heard the door opening, and that meant someone was going to walk in and SEE him like this— Squirming, moaning, and basically humping the counter all in an effort not to pee down his legs because he couldn’t work his buttons.
“Paulson…?” Bryce asked, pausing between the door and a stall.
Kenneth wasn’t sure if he was relieved that it wasn’t a stranger or not.
“Your fingers are stinging?” Bryce guessed.
They were, but that wasn’t the problem! “Nnnh, Bryce, I need to… I can’t…” He yanked his hands out from under the water. He couldn’t take it anymore. It was torture. And, somehow, what he was about to ask for seemed LESS painful. “My fingers can’t bend, and I can’t get my… My clothes out of the way…”
Bryce stared for a second, then it dawned on him. “Ohhhh, okay. You know, you look the same when you’re cold as you do when you need a piss…”
Kenneth could have lived without hearing that embarrassing little tidbit about himself… “W—Well… I’m having both of those problems now.” He gritted his teeth, unable to believe what he was about to ask for. “Please, can you unzip me?”
Bryce flushed bright red, flashing hot and cold. He finally felt as chilled as Kenneth must have. He was going to… To have his hands touching overtop of Kenneth’s… He might even have to touch on it directly, skin to skin, no fabric in the way… At the least, he was going to SEE it.
He was still rattled from the last time he’d gotten a good look at Kenneth’s penis. How did someone so tiny have such an… Impressive cock? That had to have been where Kenneth’s missing height had gone to. He’d thought that a few times before, but he was sure of it now. And, that dick being on such a small frame made it look even bigger…
Kenneth was probably some kind of proof that being pee shy didn’t have anything to do with ‘size-anxiety’. If Bryce’s was that big, he’d be proud to whip it out and show it off when he had to go.
Bryce had played with dicks before at his secret club. If Kenneth ever went there, he wouldn’t have the biggest one, but he’d fit in well amongst the most endowed men. Bryce had sucked off a few of the men, with Kenneth’s size, he’d be one of the ones he’d nearly choke o—
Dear fuck, why was he thinking about sucking Kenneth’s dick?! He didn’t want to do that! Kenneth would never want him TO do that!
Kenneth was staring at him now, eyes wide and watering. “Bryce, I know it’s weird. If Dwight was here, I’d ask him, but—“
“Okay,” Bryce sighed, rubbing at his cheeks, as if he could somehow erase his blush. “Come on.” He held open a stall for Kenneth, whom followed him in on wobbly legs.
“Hurry,” Kenneth urged, bouncing on his heels.
Bryce nodded, he reached down to begin working apart Kenneth’s buttons. Beneath the fabric of Kenneth’s uniform, Bryce could feel the distinct lump of his bulge. His hands were… Right on top of Kenneth’s dick right now. He could feel a bit of moisture there as well and realized Kenneth must have been leaking. He was about to make a comment on that, if only to chase away his errant thoughts by starting up an argument, but he couldn’t find the words.
Kenneth’s hips twitched and he jiggled a few more times. “Ohhh, hurrryyyyyyy!”
Bryce was surprised that Kenneth hadn’t seemed to realize WHERE exactly he was touching. The other must have REALLY been desperate, because if Kenneth could think clearly he would be clamming up with embarrassment.
The buttons were out of the way and now Bryce quickly lowered Kenneth’s zipper. Kenneth gasped at the sound, wriggling from side to side. “Nnnnhhh…”
“Th—There,” Bryce managed breathlessly.
Kenneth stumbled to the toilet and fished his cock out, aiming as best as he could. He told himself to pee but, of course, Bryce was still THERE… “Turn around…” he muttered.
Bryce was surprised he hadn’t been asked to just leave altogether, he spun to face the wall, and as soon as he’d removed Kenneth from his field of vision, he heard the powerful, roaring gush of Kenneth’s stream flowing into the toilet, and a fluttery moan of relief.
‘Wow,’ Bryce thought. ‘That was FAST.’ He tried to remember if he’d ever heard Kenneth go that quickly in his presence before, this was definitely the first time. He’d barely even turned around all the way, and then Kenneth was spraying!
The strange feelings touching Kenneth’s clothed dick had brought him intensified. Kenneth had made himself piss so easily— Something that he could only do around a person whom he deeply trusted.
Bryce tried not to grow too impatient as Kenneth kept pouring out his bladder. He HAD come into the restroom for a REASON, after all. And being subjected to the sound of SO much running water and pleased, euphoric moans weren’t helpful!
Of course, there were OTHER stalls Bryce could use, but opening the door to this one just for a second in order to get to one would probably give Kenneth a heart attack— No way was he ready to try peeing with the stall door ajar! Bryce just had to wait for him to finish.
Kenneth kept panting, pushing out all of his urine seemed to be warming him up a bit. A lot of the feeling was returning to his body, which was a good thing because he really wanted to feel every drop of his heavy stream exiting him. His bladder was going looser and looser, and finally the last of his burden had trickled forth from his tip.
He was able to put his dick back away and zip up by himself, which immediately reminded him of how exactly this particular emergency had needed to be resolved. He’d practically begged Bryce to undress him… Embarrassment scorched through his cheeks and all the way down his neck; Now that his bladder was no longer screaming and he didn’t even have the pleasure of relief to focus on anymore, the reality of what had just occurred was settling.
He ducked his head and pushed out of the stall. He returned to the sinks and stared at his flushed face in the mirror. He looked like such a mess, all his frantic bouncing had gotten his hair all out of place, and his face was SO red. There was a certain puffiness in his eyes that told him his desperation must have made him tear up without him noticing it.
He waited by the sinks for a moment, unintentionally listening as Bryce relieved himself inside the stall he’d just left. Once Bryce was done, they went back out into the main area of the shop. They found a sculpture of a chili pepper Kenneth was sure Dwight would like since he loved spicy food.
Then they headed back. After half an hour of walking, Kenneth was grabbing his crotch again. He couldn’t help it, the cold was destroying him once more, and his bladder was worn the Hell out from his earlier ordeal.
Bryce noticed and knit his brow. Thirty minutes wasn’t enough time for Kenneth to get full, except for when he had an infection.“Er…” he lowered his voice, even though no one was around to hear. “You want me to take you to see the medics when we get back…?”
Kenneth shook his head. “I’m fine…” he winced. “Just super cold, and I need to… Um—“
“I— I know,” Bryce said. “That’s why I’m worried, because you JUST went.”
Kenneth looked away from Bryce, blushing hard and unable to move his hands from his crotch. “Being too cold makes me need to go a lot. I don’t know why, I just have to get back now.”
Bryce picked up the pace, hoping Dwight had had enough time to prepare whatever he’d been planning to surprise Kenneth with. The more he thought about that, the more he assumed he ought not follow Kenneth all the way to his room this time. He had a feeling that the ‘surprise’ was of a very private nature.
Kenneth made it back to the barrack and Bryce waved him off as he rushed inside, dying to unload a bursting bladder for the second time in the last hour. He got to his room and flung the door open, smashing his palms against his crotch the whole way.
Dwight was sitting on his bed, but sprang up when he saw Kenneth. “Kenneth, I have—“
“Can’t talk,” Kenneth whimpered, kicking off his snow covered boots, then hopping between his socked feet. “Gotta pee…”
“Oh,” Dwight said. “Well, can you wait a minute? I wanted to—“
Kenneth crossed his legs and shuddered. His bladder was fully aware that he was in his safe place right now, so all bets were off. If it wanted to forcibly drain itself, nothing was going to prevent that from happening. But, his fingers probably DID need a little time to defrost before he could manage with his clothes… “Ah— Okay, but ONLY a minute!”
“Okay,” Dwight said, he went back to his bed and retrieved something from beneath his pillow. He hid it behind his back until he was by Kenneth’s side. “I hope you like it… I worked really hard, and—“
“Nnnh, I’m sure I will. Just show me? I’m kind of in a hurry, remember?”
Dwight held the item out for Kenneth to see, and… It was Pinky! Kenneth’s hands lurched away from his crotch and he grabbed the little flamingo. It really WAS Pinky, same face and everything— He’d come back!
Kenneth was surprised when he felt a trickle of liquid. Wetness rolled down his cheeks and he blinked his eyes to try and prevent more tears from flowing. He didn’t cry. He wasn’t supposed to cry…
“I remembered what you said happened to the one your Mom made you when you were little,” Dwight said. “And, I got some stuff in town, and Elizabeth showed me how to put it together, and I… I hope it came out right.”
Kenneth pulled Dwight into a very, very tight hug, squeezing their bodies together, and… Smooshing the absolute FUCK out of his still VERY irritated bladder. He stumbled backwards, “Ah— I forgot, I still have to—!” He spun around and hurried into the restroom.
Dwight smiled, hoping that Kenneth would give him another, longer hug once he’d relieved himself. He was halfway back to his bed when he heard his friend groan, “D—Dwight? My fingers are frozen stiff, c—can you help me with the zipper?” |
Written for the 12 Days of Omo prompt "Free Choice". So, here's Kenneth needing some help with his coat.
***
Kenneth was wearing an extremely thick coat overtop of his uniform, thermal undergarments beneath it, and warm woolen gloves on his hands. Yet, he was still shivering with cold. It had taken a lot out of him just to get out of bed that morning, he was so reluctant to leave his blanket and plunge into the frigid air beyond it. By the time he’d managed to get up, pee, and bundle himself into all of the Winter clothing he had, he was nearly late, which Bryce was quick to call out when he saw him.
“S—S—Sorry,” Kenneth said, teeth chattering.
Bryce stared at his shuddering body. “How the Hell are you STILL cold with all that on?”
“I d—d—don’t kn—know,” Kenneth sighed, his breath clouding in the frigid air. “Wh—Why d—do I have to be at m—my post on Christmas, an—anyway?” He’d been hoping to spend the holiday cuddled under his blanket, with Dwight wrapped around him and warming him up— He definitely hadn’t wanted to spend it freezing to death outside.
“Someone has to be,” Bryce said. “It’s not like I’m happy about working today, either.” He watched Kenneth twitch and shiver for a few more seconds, then groaned. “Ugh, you’re useless when you’re like this…” he said, holding out his canteen, which he’d filled with hot coffee. “Drink this, alright?”
Kenneth took it into his own hand warily. He sniffed it, confirming that the liquid it was filled with WAS coffee. He was shocked, since Bryce had gone on-record before that Kenneth should never be allowed within fifteen feet of caffeine, lest it make him act even more obnoxious than usual. Kenneth had never actually HAD anything caffeinated before, and had no idea if it would even make him THAT hyperactive… “Y—You want me t—t—to drink coffee?”
“Yeah,” Bryce shrugged. “Just this one time, if it makes you go all crazy and you start irritating me, then I’m banning you from it forever.”
Kenneth frowned. “O—Okay…” he said. He took a sip from the canteen and swallowed it down, immediately feeling a bit warmer. The coffee tasted good too, which surprised him as he’d expected it to be super bitter— He never would have thought Bryce would put sugar in his coffee. He would have assumed that he’d drink it plain, even if he didn’t like it, just to prove how tough he was. “You like sugar…?” Kenneth asked, testing the waters.
“Ah, no,” Bryce said. “When I grabbed it, I mixed it up with someone else’s. That’s the only reason I gave it to you. Because it’s too sweet.”
Kenneth sighed, sipping again. He should have been able to anticipate the denials— Bryce would never admit that he liked sweet things, and he would DEFINITELY never admit that he’d given Kenneth something hot to drink because he wanted to make him feel better. Kenneth shouldn’t have even bothered asking, he should have known better, Bryce was always going to ‘pretend’ like that, Kenneth wishing that he wouldn’t wasn’t going to change a thing.
Kenneth finished all of the coffee in record time, enjoying the flavor and desperate to heat himself up. He started paying very close attention to how his body felt. He was significantly warmer now that he’d filled himself with hot fluid, but that wasn’t the only change he was searching for. With as often as Bryce said that Kenneth should “never, ever, ever, ever” have any caffeine, because it would turn him into an “unstoppable prank machine that’s incapable of shutting up”, Kenneth half-expected the drink to have given him some sort of super-power.
He knew it was supposed to make him feel more energetic, but that wasn’t happening yet. There were some tingles, though. A skittering sensation going up and down his arms, convening in his chest. It felt super weird.
“Um, Paulson, your arm is shaking…” Bryce said. “Are you still cold?”
Kenneth glanced to his side. His arm was twitching, a LOT. But, just his left one. That was weird, he didn’t normally shiver on just ONE side of his body. “I feel strange,” he said, and he could almost hear his own voice echoing in his ear from far away.
Confusing him further, Bryce started to wave his hand around. It looked bizarre, like he’d sprouted extra fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Um… Six?” Kenneth guessed.
Bryce’s brow furrowed. “Wait, have you actually been obeying me and never drinking coffee? Was that your first time?”
Kenneth nodded, the motion making his vision twirl.
“Ah… Fuck, and you just drank a ton of it so fast…” Bryce said. “Well, are you less cold, at least?”
“Y—Yeah, I’m warm now,” Kenneth said. His teeth weren’t chattering anymore, but his mouth seemed to be… Twitching. It was very hard to form words, they seemed to want to come out quicker than he was actually able to say them. “I f—feel fine.”
“You’re jumping around a whole lot…” Bryce said.
Kenneth hadn’t realized he was jiggling. “I’m fine,” he repeated. “I feel g-g-good! Except, I think if I try to stand still, I’ll instantly die.”
Bryce sighed, “Paulson, if you can’t handle caffeine, I will have to continue forbidding you from it. For your health,” he said. “Do try to calm down, and if you really CAN’T, let me know so you can go lay down.”
Kenneth didn’t feel like laying down at ALL. He wanted to run laps, what a pity this wasn’t a day for a fitness exam! He could probably break all of his records! He’d run faster than ever, and he’d even be able to do a whole bunch of push-ups without wearing himself out! Yes, this is what he should do the next time he had to do the fitness test! He’d drink lots and lots of coffee so that he could do more push-ups than ANYONE, even Bryce! Then, he’d run so fast that he’d break the sound barrier, and The Leader would probably award him some kind of medal— Maybe two… He’d get ALL the medals.
Oh, but Bryce wouldn’t let him have any coffee if he kept jumping around like he was now! He had to hold still, behave like energy wasn’t filling him up so thoroughly that it actually kind of hurt. Be still, be still, be still… He managed to restrain himself to just jiggling one leg as his hand tapped against his thigh, but it felt like millions of little ants were running around just beneath his skin and he wanted to hop around and run back and forth, sprinting off to—
Kenneth suddenly found himself able to go still when he realized where exactly he wanted to sprint to. The buzzing energy was no longer the biggest thing on his mind, no longer the most obvious feeling flowing through his body. No, something else was taking center stage now.
His bladder, which he hadn’t even noticed a few seconds ago, now ached with a serious need to be released. Where the Hell had THAT come from? He’d been fine! He hadn’t noticed the need creeping up until he just suddenly had to go super bad! And he’d pissed RIGHT before leaving his room too, which couldn’t have been more than an hour ago! How could he need to pee THIS badly again already? That only happened if he had an infection, and he didn’t THINK he had one. He hadn’t had to endure one of his more ‘extreme’ bouts of desperation recently, why would he have an infection now?!
Whatever the reason, Kenneth had to pee badly, and it was getting worse at such an alarming rate that it sort of scared him. In the mere minutes since he’d first noticed it, his bladder felt like it had already stretched out further. He crossed his legs, reaching a hand to his mouth and accidentally covering his tongue in little bits of fuzz when he bit down on his gloved knuckles. Grimacing, he tore his hand away, shoved it into the pocket of his coat.
He rocked back and forth on his heels. Since his need had taken him completely by surprise, he was having to fight hard to keep up with it. Shifting from foot to foot, he tensed his thighs together and wondered if Bryce would grant him a break this early into the day. His chest tightened, it would sure be embarrassing to say he needed to go so soon after his last toilet break…
Bryce turned to look at him, eyes falling on the rapid shuffling of his feet. “Paulson, if you keep that up, you’re going to slip in the snow,” he said. “THIS is why I’d always been so worried about giving you coffee.”
Oh. Right. That. Kenneth still had to prove to Bryce that he COULD handle the energy boost of a caffeinated beverage. All this jiggling and bouncing that his bladder was forcing him to do wouldn’t help there. In truth, he didn’t even FEEL the hyperactive tickling anymore— He was still dying to move around, but now it was for a completely different reason. “O—Okay,” he said, trying to still himself.
As soon as he’d stopped squirming, his bladder was shrieking. His heavy coat was weighing down upon it, strangling it, adding pounds and pounds of pressure to a load that already felt too big. The waistband of his warm underpants was digging into his bladder as well, and then the belt from his uniform… Everything he had on was making it harder to hold his pee, and not being able to writhe was making it that much worse!
To top it off, when he tried to give his crotch a quick squeeze while Bryce wasn’t looking, the many layers encasing his dick made it impossible to get a decent grip. When his hand pressed between his legs, he didn’t feel ANY relief because he couldn’t make proper contact.
He caught his hand creeping back up to his mouth, and forced that to stop as well. He couldn’t chew his fingers, his gloves were in the way. He couldn’t squirm his legs, Bryce would think he was too hyper. He couldn’t hold himself, his clothes were too thick. All he could do to quell the pangs in his abdomen was tense his thighs up, and that simply wasn’t enough!
Kenneth wanted to tell Bryce that he just needed to go, even if Bryce said he couldn’t leave, at least then he’d be able to move with Bryce knowing the real reason and NOT banning him from coffee for it. But, what if Bryce thought he was lying about needing a piss to excuse the jittery behavior? That was silly, wasn’t it? But, no… Bryce was aware Kenneth USUALLY had an iron bladder that took hours to fill up so thoroughly that he was unable to resist a pee-dance. Kenneth had JUST relieved himself, Bryce wouldn’t believe it if he said that he had to go again now!
Biting his lip and squeezing his thighs together so tightly he felt a bit of a cramp, Kenneth told himself to wait just a little bit longer before he brought it up. Then, after he’d peed, he’d probably ask Bryce if he could go to the medical building, because something was obviously wrong with his bladder since it had filled itself up so much in such a short span of time.
Bryce kept LOOKING at him too, so he struggled to find moments where he could sneak in a foot bounce or a cross of his legs. He was trapped beneath Bryce’s scrutinizing gaze, forcing his body to remain statue still in the face of a thundering pressure that pleaded with him to squirm for all he was worth. His upper body radiated with tension, while his lower half shook uncontrollably. His bladder was cramping painfully, heat searing around the base of his dick and, even in the coldness of Winter, it didn’t feel the least bit pleasant. It felt awful, the precursor to a leak that he was barely able to restrain.
Bryce was paying more attention to Kenneth’s stance than he usually would. He was… Definitely NOT worried about him. The aching pull in his chest was NOT anxiety, it wasn’t anything of the sort! He didn’t care how Kenneth was feeling, or if his body was having a bad reaction to the sudden influx of tons of caffeine after a lifetime without the smallest taste of it. He wasn’t concerned if it was making his head hurt, or his heart beat so rapidly that it was panicking him. He didn’t care. He was only watching for such signs because, if Kenneth didn’t handle caffeine well, he needed to be kept away from it from now on so that it wouldn’t effect his work. That was all. Bryce was ONLY focused on how it affected Kenneth’s performance, nothing else.
Kenneth DID seem to be having trouble, perhaps his body was overly sensitive to caffeine, or maybe he’d had too much for his first try, but he didn’t look like he was doing too well. His eyes kept darting around, and he was sweating profusely in spite of the freezing temperatures. He was obviously trying his best to hold still, but he looked like he was vibrating and every so often he’d give a few quick bounces. He half-wondered if Kenneth was going to need medical attention, for all he knew the guy might be having some kind of allergic reaction.
Bryce watched as Kenneth’s hands fluttered around his body, first moving to his waist and tugging at his coat, then up towards his face before he yanked them back down again. He’d only seen Kenneth look quite this uncomfortable when he badly needed to visit the restroom. But, he was certain Kenneth had done that before he came to his post this morning, so there was no reason to think he’d need to go agai—
Oh.
Bryce had been so worried about Kenneth bouncing off the walls with hyperactivity, that he’d managed to completely forget one of the OTHER effects coffee tended to have on people.
“Paulson, are you alright?”
“F—Fine!” Kenneth insisted. ‘God, please just turn around for a minute?’ He pleaded silently. ‘Just, don’t look at me so I’ll be able to—‘
“Do you know all of the things caffeine can do?” Bryce asked. “Because, it doesn’t only give you extra energy, and you look… VERY uncomfortable right now.”
“I—I’m fine,” Kenneth repeated. His bladder quivered, and finally the heated pressure he’d been feeling at the base of his dick started to move down through it, a squirt of pee hissed into his underclothes and he snapped his legs together, bending forwards. His heart was beating rapidly, face warming as he tried to put a stop to the spill.
“It can also make you need to ‘go’ an awful lot,” Bryce said.
Kenneth struggled back upright, his leak clamped off, but he felt another just on the horizon. He hadn’t heard what Bryce said over the sound of his heart thundering in his ears. What the Hell was wrong with him?! At this rate, he wasn’t going to last another ten minutes! How could he be this close to exploding less than two hours since he’d last peed?! Had he somehow not gotten all of it out earlier?!
“It’s a diuretic,” Bryce said. “Moves straight through you… And you drank the whole canteen REALLY fast, and you’ve never HAD any before, so if you’re needing to… Take care of anything…”
“Bryce, I— I have to— May I please take a break? I think— I don’t know why, but I just NEED—“
“It’s just the coffee,” Bryce reiterated. “Just listen to me, it’s normal to have to go to the bathroom really badly after you’ve drank a lot of that stuff, it runs right through you— Like that tea you tricked Karl into drinking before.”
“O—Oh…” Kenneth exhaled, glad to hear that he probably WASN’T sick, and now that Bryce knew and BELIEVED that he was just desperate to pee, he let himself squirm. He stomped his feet into the snow, digging his heels in before crossing his legs at the ankles. Again, he tried to hold himself, but struggled for purchase through all of his layers. “P—Permission t—to g—“
“Yes,” Bryce said. “Hurry back.”
Kenneth turned and tried to sprint off, tried to RUN at super speed like he’d been so sure the coffee would allow him to do. But, now that it had all filtered through him and stretched out his bladder, the coffee wasn’t letting him move at ALL. He took a few long strides, and then he was leaking so forcefully into his clothes that he had to cross his legs back together and stop short completely to jiggle up and down.
His barrack was SO far…
He didn’t know how he’d ever make it!
He’d barely begun to whimper when Bryce came up to his side. “Is the barrack too long a walk?” He asked quietly.
Kenneth couldn’t bring himself to nod. Nodding would be admitting weakness, admitting weakness to Bryce, admitting to Bryce that he was so desperate to pee after just an hour and a half that he couldn’t handle a twenty minute walk.
“It’s alright, I’ll go get…” Bryce tried to think of where Dwight might be now. He had Christmas off, so he could be anywhere… “I’LL take you to one of the restrooms,” he decided. “And…I’ll try to get you relaxed.”
Kenneth said nothing. He knew there was a restroom nearby, maybe if it was empty…
The walk to the restroom only took a few minutes, but that was long enough for Kenneth’s bladder to force out three more spills. Each one heated up his crotch in a way that felt entirely unpleasant even with the frigid weather. Bryce opened the bathroom door for him and he stumbled in out of the snow. He felt warmer now that he was indoors, but even though the restroom was thankfully empty, it looked intimidating to him.
He heard Bryce behind him, messing with the door. “I locked it,” he informed. “It’s just us in here… Can you try a urinal so there’s more room for us both? The door is LOCKED,” he reiterated, slapping a hand against it.
The urinals looked far more daunting than the stalls— The knowledge that no one could come in here barely helped. But, they ALSO looked like relief, and his bladder was shuddering as he stared at them, urging him to use one. He didn’t understand why his bladder throbbed so furiously at the sight of urinals, when it was ITS fault that he was so seldom able to use one.
“O—Okay,” he said, reaching to his zipp— Fuck, that’s right… He had a LOT of layers to fight through before he could even TRY to pee into a urinal. Frustrated, he started to work the button of his coat, but couldn’t DO it with the gloves on, so he tried to yank one of them off, growling when it wouldn’t come loose.
He jumped from foot to foot, just biting his glove off with his teeth and then ripping off the other one. He held them in his mouth, cringing at the feeling of the material on his tongue. Then, he was fighting with the coat buttons again, and— A dribble of urine was gliding down his leg, tickling his skin, and he hadn’t even felt it coming out, and— “Nnnnhhhh….”
Bryce sighed, feeling nothing more than irritation at Kenneth’s absolutely pathetic behavior— Fighting so furiously with his own clothing, his motor skills obliterated by an urgent need for the toilet— Nothing about that was the least bit sympathetic, and it didn’t make Bryce want to help him out at all. No, it just made him want to deal with Kenneth’s clothes himself so that he could show the idiot how it was done.
He stood beside Kenneth and made quick work of the coat buttons, “There,” he groaned. “Was that so hard?”
Kenneth said nothing, just moved on to dealing with his uniform. He got his zipper down, and then he had to deal with the buttons on his thermal underwear, which proved as tricky as the ones on his coat. It didn’t help that, now that he COULD, he kept instinctively grabbing at his dick every few seconds.
“Do you need MORE help?” Bryce asked, rolling his eyes. “I swear, you are so incompetent…”
Kenneth looked away. “Um… Y—You can, but… it’s…”
Right… Bryce was going to have his hands over Kenneth’s dick AGAIN, just like the day a couple weeks ago at the shop. That certainly didn’t make him feel… ANY way at all. Just annoyed. He was certain that no one else had to come into contact with their subordinate’s cock so often. All of THEM were so lucky, not needing to feel their annoying, stupid subordinate’s bulge as he made all of those… needy… little… whimpering noises and shook so violently beneath the touch.
Bryce HATED it!
Those buttons out of the way, Kenneth finally hobbled to a urinal and aimed himself at it. As expected, his stream stayed locked inside his bladder. Bryce was behind him a second later, though, rubbing his shoulders without needing to be asked, without needing to be told that Kenneth was having trouble getting started on his own.
Kenneth had never noticed it before, but Bryce sure was warm… Leaning back against him, Kenneth felt even more heated than he had just after he’d finished that coffee. It was a little like how he felt when he snuggled Dwight on a cold day, except Dwight’s feet always got icy cold and he thought it was funny to press them into Kenneth’s back sometimes to watch him jump. Now, in Bryce’s arms, he was ALL warm.
Warmth beaded up in his opening, and then a stream was pouring out of him, splattering the porcelain of the urinal. His eyes widened, he was actually managing to use a urinal again! Behind a locked door and with someone there trying to soothe him, sure, but still— He was peeing in a urinal! And, he’d gotten it started pretty fast this time, too!
“Ahhhhh….” Kenneth groaned, loud enough that it echoed and overpowered the (already ear-splitting) hiss of his stream.
Bryce’s face tinted red at the noise. God dammit, when was he EVER going to get used to all those weird sounds Kenneth made when he pissed? When were they going to stop making him feel… Making him… feel… Fuck, Kenneth moaned like he was having the most incredible sex imaginable when he took a leak, it wasn’t Bryce’s fault if THAT sometimes made his mind wander to… Things. Things that… That didn’t really involve Kenneth! Not really! Not—
Kenneth started to shudder, shivers going up his spine as the pleasure of his relief kept intensifying. His body was going so loose, so relaxed, tension faded from every nerve he had. He leaned more against Bryce, legs going wobbly from how good it felt, and he kept shaking with euphoria…
Oh… Oh God… Blood drained from Bryce’s face, from Bryce’s… EVERYTHING, as Kenneth sagged into him and SHUDDERED like that. Kenneth’s twitching and the vocalizations of pleasure that kept flowing from his mouth were having a PROFOUND effect on Bryce, one he was beginning to fear Kenneth would FEEL and REACT to, and—
‘Fuck, fuck, just… Just focus on rubbing his shoulders still, in case he locks up again,’ Bryce ordered himself, and he kneaded Kenneth with more force than was probably necessary, trying to distract himself from the INSANITY currently gripping his mind and body.
Kenneth felt Bryce digging more deeply into the tense muscles in his shoulders, it felt good to be… Basically massaged as he urinated so copiously. He wasn’t sure why Bryce was doing that so intensely, he wasn’t going to complain but… Okay, now Bryce’s hands were moving? And… Over his chest for some reason, rubbing his— “Br—Bryce?” Kenneth asked, his stream faltering but not ceasing. “What are you doing that for?”
Bryce’s eyes, which he hadn’t even realized he’d shut, opened wide. “Huh? Doing wha—“ He stopped, sucked in a breath. He’d let himself act on auto-pilot, and had ended up caressing Kenneth’s nipples through his uniform shirt. “Ah—“ he dragged his hands back up over Kenneth’s shoulders. “I— I don’t know— I’m so sorry, I— Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that, I shouldn’t have— I’m sorry!“
The last of Kenneth’s pee seeped out and he tucked his dick back into his pants, zipping them closed. “Um… Th— Uh, yeah… It’s… It’s always just the shoulders… Sometimes part of my back or neck, but… That’s… It.”
Bryce forced himself to meet Kenneth’s eyes. It seemed the other just thought he’d messed up the calm-down-routine because he wasn’t the one who usually DID it. Bryce was tempted to let him KEEP assuming that, but something in him wouldn’t allow it. Something in him told him that would be wrong. “I… I am so sorry,” he repeated. “I… I just… I behaved very inappropriately just now, I stepped WAY out of line, I… Crossed a boundary, and… I’m very sorry…”
“It’s oka—“
“It’s not,” Bryce said. “I… I don’t know what came over me, I’ve been… Confused as of late, but that doesn’t excuse what I just did. If you’d like the rest of today off, if you’d like a new supervisor, or—“
“Bryce…?” Kenneth asked. “I don’t think I understand.”
Fuck… It was WORSE that Kenneth didn’t even understand what had happened! It was SO much worse! “I… Have been… Experiencing certain ‘thoughts’ lately,” Bryce said. “And, they seem to have gotten out of hand, they are affecting my behavior, and I think it would be in the best interest of… Everyone, if you and Dwight both transferred to—“
“I— I thought we’d been getting along better now!” Kenneth said. “I’m sorry if we made you mad! W—We won’t prank you ever again, or anything! We’ll stop teasing you!”
Bryce’s chest clenched. Everything Kenneth said was making him feel worse. “I just don’t think it’s good for any of us to be… Together in the way we are. Especially not when I am in a position of authority, and I’ve just proven that I can’t control myself.”
“Because you accidentally touched my chest? It felt weird, but it’s—“
“It wasn’t an accident!” Bryce snapped. “That’s the issue! Don’t you get it? I— I just— I TOUCHED you in a DEEPLY inappropriate way, because I’m— I—“
“It’s fine, just don’t do it again next time, and we can—“
“There won’t BE a next time,” Bryce said. “There CAN’T be, I’m not— I shouldn’t— God, you’re so dense!”
“Bryce—“
“I’m attracted to you, alright?” Bryce said. “Do you get it now? Have I spelled it out clearly enough for you? I don’t know why the fuck I am, but I AM. Y—You, and Dwight, and Elizabeth— CHRIST, Paulson, I’ve… I’ve had so many dreams where the four of us are… I CAN’T just keep being involved with you, we’ve gotten too close— I HOLD you while you piss, Paulson! That’s too intimate, it’s too close, this thing we have going on is not appropriate, it’s—“
“You like me?” Kenneth asked.
Of course that was all he’d focus on… “‘Like’ is a strong word…”
“I didn’t realize you liked men at all,” Kenneth said. “You’re always staring at Elizabeth, so I figured—“
“I— I think I kind of just… Like everyone. If someone looks good, then they just DO. And I’ve been with… lots of people, but only in a specific setting that’s SUPPOSED to stay separate from the rest of my life. Those feelings are supposed to just switch off other times, but lately they WON’T, and they keep coming up for… For people I work with and talk to, and—“
“It’s okay if you like me,” Kenneth said. “I’m not going to tell anybody if that’s why you’re worried.”
“I’m not SUPPOSED to think about you that way! You—You drive me crazy! I’m supposed to HATE you, and— And— Whatever I feel about you, it’s nothing like hate, and— God, last week when you hid that stupid rubber snake in my bed again, I SHOULD have wanted to smack you, but I DIDN’T, I just— I thought about how boring my life would be if you weren’t around, and… And that day at the store, when you didn’t make me leave the stall before you pissed, it made me feel… Weird, that you trusted me so much— And I shouldn’t—“
“It’s alright,” Kenneth promised. “I mean, I can tell that you like it when I mess with you, that’s WHY I still do it. At first, I was only doing it to make you mad since you were always being a dick, but then I saw you start laughing at the pranks too, and I thought… You’re always so stiff, you need to be able to laugh… And, I— I do trust you more now, that’s not a BAD thing. You remember that night in the tent when I had that bad dream and you—“
“Yes,” Bryce said. He didn’t want to remember. He didn’t want to remember how soft Kenneth had felt, how good it had made him feel to protect him…
“I think that’s when I started to trust you for real,” Kenneth said. “I don’t want you to put distance between us, I like you too.”
“But… I… I touched you, I shouldn’t have—“
“You shouldn’t have,” Kenneth agreed. “If you can promise not to do it again without asking, then we can try to forget about it.”
“I— I won’t!” Bryce said. “I’m really sorry that I did it at all.”
“Okay,” Kenneth said. “Thank you. Thank you for… Helping me again, and everything.”
“Y—You’re welcome,” Bryce said. “Any time…” He moved to unlock the door so they could leave. “Er… Merry Christmas, I guess. Making you piss is a weird gift, but—“
“I… Uh… I did appreciate it, yeah,” Kenneth said. |
I am so sorry for how long it's been. I had trouble with this chapter. I knew how I wanted it to end, and that it would set up the next arc, but for whatever reason I had a difficult time getting there.
Content warning for a short mention of sexual abuse/exploitation.
***
Kenneth had requested the day off. It wasn’t because he had made any big plans, or because he was too sick to get out of bed. He wasn’t planning to have any fun today whatsoever. Today was not a day that was meant to be enjoyed.
Today was the anniversary of the worst day of Kenneth’s life; The day he lost his Mother. He’d promised himself that he would never do anything on this date apart from taking the time to remember her. He thought maybe her spirit was a little more ‘present’ today than it usually was. Like, maybe she came down from Heaven every year to watch over him and see how he’d grown.
He liked to think that she’d be proud of him.
When Dwight gave him a long, deep kiss before leaving for the day, Kenneth worried that she might not be proud of him at all. What would she think of Dwight? Would she think he was cute and funny? Would she appreciate how much Dwight looked after Kenneth? Would she be happy that he made Kenneth so happy?
Or would she just get stuck on the fact that Dwight happened to be another man?
While Kenneth’s Father had made his views on homosexuality very clear, his Mother had never said anything about it. Of course she hadn’t. It wasn’t a topic people were supposed to discuss. But, that left Kenneth with a lot of questions. He wanted to believe that Mother would love Dwight just as much as he did, and that it wouldn’t matter to her what parts he had. He could never be sure, though.
Every year, Kenneth would pull a small box out from beneath his bed and remove its contents. They were the last things he had from his Mother, the few things Father had never destroyed. First, he took out the small black and white photograph of her. She looked exactly like he remembered her and, in a way, that made him sad. He’d grown and changed so much in the years since her death, but Mother would never get any older.
He spoke in a hushed tone. “Um… Hello, Mother… It’s… It’s been another year.” He felt embarrassed talking to a picture. If anyone heard him, they wouldn’t understand why he needed to do this. “A lot has happened, I guess. Some things have changed. Y—You know my best friend, Dwight? Of course you do, I tell you about him every year. Well, um, THIS year, he’s become… He’s… I— I know you used to talk about wanting to be a grandmother, and how you hoped I would find a nice wife, but…” He sighed. “I wish I could talk to you for real… I WANT to believe you’d be happy, I wish you could tell me…”
Next, he took out her wedding ring. He gazed at it, once more unsure how he was supposed to feel. He’d never understood why his Mother had married his Father. He thought maybe he used to ask her about it, but couldn’t quite remember if he’d ever gotten an answer. The ring made his insides twist in a funny way. It symbolized Mother’s tether to the man whom would eventually end her life, but it was still something she’d worn every day, it was still a part of HER. He couldn’t bear to get rid of it.
After that, there was her apron, her earrings, the songbook she used when she played piano. And then there was the envelope. It was an envelope Kenneth had never opened, though it was addressed to him in Mother’s handwriting. He’d found it in Father’s study the day he’d shot him. He’d never been able to bring himself to open it.
Once he opened it, once he read whatever was inside it, those would be the last words his Mother ever said to him. He didn’t think he was ready for that level of finality. Knowing that there was more, that the letter was still un-read and waiting, made it feel less like she was gone for good.
The final item was the framed photo of himself and Mother, and he was dismayed by the sight of it. The issue was the frame, one side of it had come apart, and the glass was cracked.
That wouldn’t do.
He supposed Mother wouldn’t be disappointed in him for going out shopping today, just so long as it was only for THIS. She’d be pleased that he was trying to keep their photo safe.
He left the barrack right away, wanting to get a new frame as quickly as possible.
Halfway to town, he received an angry scolding from his body, snapping at him that he’d forgotten to do something very important. He had neglected to relieve himself before heading out. He could still turn back around and pee, then leave again… But, he’d already walked all this way, his errand wouldn’t take THAT long, and his bladder wasn’t THAT full.
He could hold it.
If it got bad, he knew two places he could go for a piss.
He’d be fine.
He wasn’t fine.
He managed to get to town while his bladder was still merely tingling, he bought a new frame, left the shop, and thought that MAYBE he was starting to really feel the urge… But, not enough to mess with going to either of his ‘safe’ restrooms. He headed back, returned to his barrack, and by THEN he was pretty eager to use the toilet, swaying very slightly on his feet as he reached for the key to his room.
And that was when he realized he wasn’t fine.
Instead of coming into contact with the cold metal of his key, Kenneth’s fingers went straight through a hole in the bottom of his pocket. A shot of ice rolling down his spine, he frantically checked his other one, hoping against hope that IT was the one he’d stuck the key in.
Nope.
He was locked out until Dwight finished with his tasks for the day.
And his bladder suddenly felt a LOT fuller. Just LOOKING at the door to his room, the easiest place for him to relieve himself, made him desire to go more strongly. Standing beside it seemed to make his body work at lightning speed, increasing the blood-flow to his kidneys, the pump of urine to his bladder, the pulsing at his opening.
He turned away, the sight of the locked door wasn’t helping him at all. He cursed himself for not using the toilet before he’d left. What the Hell could he do now? He could see if any of the other rooms were unlocked and if they had toilets. Not all of the bedrooms had attached restrooms, Kenneth had needed to shine the boots of a LOT of his superiors back when he’d been in training to ensure they’d give HIM one that did.
Some of the guards were careless about locking their doors, one was probably open, and hopefully had a restroom. However, entering someone else’s room without permission was NOT permitted for someone of Kenneth’s rank. If he was caught, he WOULD be disciplined. And, since the reason for his misbehavior was related to his bladder, Kenneth was sure that his punishment would consist of marching drills plus a ‘disciplinary liter’ of water. Unless Bryce was the person put in charge of overseeing his punishment, Kenneth would be put through Hell.
He would not risk sneaking into an empty room.
He could instead KNOCK on someone else’s door. Maybe he wasn’t the only one with the day off, maybe someone was resting in bed. Maybe he could… Ask, out loud, to please, please use their toilet. Then, he’d have to explain why he needed that person to leave their room entirely until he was through urinating. “I—It’s just, I can’t go if you’re able to hear it…”
Kenneth blushed, he didn’t like THAT idea very much, either.
He could use one of the more ‘public’ facilities set aside for the guards. Except, he’d never successfully DONE that by himself before. He knew Dwight and Bryce were both at their posts and, upon checking his watch, he confirmed that their mid-day breaks had passed while he’d still been in town. He couldn’t request any assistance. He was on his own.
But, if he found one that was empty, and then he locked the door, he just might be able to pee. This was probably his best option…
His mind made up, Kenneth left the barrack and headed in the direction of the nearest restroom. Kenneth’s bladder had been teased mercilessly by the sight of the locked door, and wasn’t about to let its owner forget about the displeasure it had been caused. It throbbed harder with every step, his opening stung when he moved his legs too far away from one another.
He pushed open the door to the restroom, praying that it would be empty.
It wasn’t.
Three of the urinals were in-use, and the stall was locked as well. Kenneth’s chest clenched in on itself, and he knew better than to even TRY urinating here. The only stall was already taken, and the mere thought of trying to use a urinal NEXT to someone made his throat go dry and constrict. His bladder constricted along with it, because Kenneth could hear streams gushing out. His own body so badly wanted to join. Aching throbs buzzed sharply in his lower abdomen, prompting him to cross his ankles for a second.
It had been a while since Kenneth had last been in this scenario. Since he so rarely bothered even CHECKING multi-stall public toilets to determine if they’d be usable, he didn’t often have to deal with this; The awkwardness of entering a restroom, finding it too crowded, and then turning right back around and leaving. Certainly, anybody who saw him do that immediately became aware of his problem. They instantly just… Knew that he was broken, and that his bladder didn’t work right.
So, when this happened, he was always forced to improvise; He was going to have to pretend that he’d just come in here to wash off his hands. Yep. That was all. He drank four big glasses of water this morning and hadn’t peed all day, so of course now he URGENTLY needed to wash his hands!
He hated it, but he went to the sink and turned it on. Immediately, the hiss penetrated his ear-drums and made him wriggle his hips. ‘Ohhh, that hurts,’ he thought, miserable. ‘Just do it really fast!’ Everything about being in here was toying with his bladder. The pee-streams splashing, the faucet running, the knowledge that if he was just NORMAL, then HE’D be getting relief now too!
He finally realized he was still holding the picture frame and stuck it into his mouth, trying not to clamp his teeth down around it and damage the material. He ran his hands beneath the water for a couple seconds, then frantically shut the faucet off, and rushed out the door, insides still knotting up with continued tension, pee-hole still burning with the desire to open up and unleash a spray. He wished his bladder would stop searing, it was its OWN fault that it was still full! If it would just LISTEN to him and empty no matter how crowded the restroom was—
He crossed his legs tightly for a second, trying to take in a stabilizing breath. Even THINKING about using that bathroom was making him anxious, AND it was making his need intensify! Dammit, when did his bladder get so freaking suggestible? The sound of water didn’t used to bother him this much! Now, when he heard too much at once, something in him felt like it was coming un-glued, loosening up and trying to fall downwards.
He waited beside the restroom door for a few minutes, trying to make all his shifting look ‘casual’. He’d… He’d just WAIT for it to be empty. There had been four people in there, after they’d all come out, he’d have privacy. He could go then. He was VERY aware of how he must have looked; Fidgeting around next to a bathroom, the CAUSE of his restlessness would be obvious. And, anyone who saw would think ‘Uh, why doesn’t he just go in?’
Three people came out, but two more went in… And this continued. Men would exit, but even more would enter. It got to the point that Kenneth lost track of how many he was waiting on to leave.
He moved a hand to his mouth under the guise of checking his watch. Dwight’s shift still wasn’t over, going back to the barrack would be pointless. The other restrooms would probably be busy, too.
Kenneth HAD successfully ducked behind bushes around here for relief before. If he found one of THOSE that was private enough…
All the ones around here were too scraggly though. They didn’t provide enough cover. He’d feel exposed, and then he’d end up just standing there with his pants unzipped like a moron. He started to pace, looking for something better.
He did not find anything better. In fact, he found something that was a great deal worse; Oliver.
Oliver was another one of the guards. One whom Kenneth just so happened to loathe with the intense, fiery passion of ten billion suns. Kenneth liked to think of Oliver as being the greatest evidence that evolution could actually work in reverse. Oliver was more irritating than thousands of mosquitos and the human equivalent of an uneven table leg. Kenneth found him so annoying that he’d rather hold his bladder for an entire year than spend three minutes talking to him.
What made Oliver annoying was very simple; Oliver was supposed to be one of their informants. He was supposed to notify them about important things, such as trespassers, or dwindling supplies. Oliver DID inform others of these things, but he had a very lax definition of ‘important’. He liked to alert people to just about everything— No matter how obvious it was. He’d state that the sky was blue as if this was newly discovered information that could not go unnoticed.
The worst thing about him was that Kenneth really couldn’t tell if he was being serious or if he was deliberately messing with everyone. Oliver spoke with a blunt tone, and his expressions were always blank. No matter how another person talked TO him, he never reacted in any meaningful way. He was constantly stoic, making it impossible to work out if he actually believed he was supposed to inform people of every, little thing, or if he just thought it was funny to irritate everybody.
So, when Oliver stopped Kenneth and decided to notify him that “You need to relieve yourself very badly”, Kenneth didn’t know how angry he should be. Because, if Oliver really WAS constantly stating the obvious to goad people into reacting, then this current situation was a lot more embarrassing than Oliver genuinely thinking that Kenneth was somehow UNAWARE of the fact that he really had to pee.
If it was the first thing, then Oliver was deliberately making fun of him for his desperation. If it was the second, then Oliver was just an idiot.
Either way, Kenneth didn’t particularly like being around him right now. “I know that, Oliver…” he muttered. “You don’t need to tell me.”
“You shouldn’t hold it,” Oliver said. “You might wet yourself, and that would be embarrassing.”
Kenneth’s jaw clenched against the urge to shout. He was aware of THAT as well— Although he knew that his odds of actually wetting himself in public were basically nonexistent. Far more likely he’d just hurt himself again. Oliver did NOT need to know about that, however. Kenneth was thankful that, so far, the only other guards who knew of his bladder issue were Dwight and Bryce. If Oliver found out, he’d decide to ‘inform’ everyone in the country about it.
“You need to urinate very urgently,” Oliver added. “I will show you where the restrooms are.”
“I’ve been here longer than you…” Kenneth mumbled, thinking he should have savored those months before Oliver’s arrival a little more.
“I have to go as well, I’ll come with you,” Oliver said.
Kenneth had no intention of finding out what trying to take a piss near Oliver would be like. Torture, most likely. “I can wait,” Kenneth said. “I was just about to head back to the barrack, I’ll be fine until then.” His bladder gave a brief, panicked throb, reminding him that he wasn’t fine, and that the barrack held no promise of relief.
“That’s a long walk,” Oliver stated. “Look, there’s a restroom right over here…” He led Kenneth a little further, and they came to a different bathroom. This one was more unusable to Kenneth than the first one had been! There was a HUGE line, indicating that several of the guards must have just been granted breaks.
Kenneth would not get out one drop here. There was no point in even trying. He’d only make himself feel more desperate and frustrated. He turned on his heel, and was jerked back when Oliver took his wrist. “Part of my job is to keep the rest of you out of danger,” he reminded. “You will hurt your bladder if you don’t go soon. You’re squirming so much.”
Kenneth… actually HADN’T noticed that he’d begun to fidget. But, when he looked down he confirmed that he indeed was. His knees were close together, and his thighs clenching as he rocked slightly from side to side. His bladder felt extremely heavy, and the urge to let it relax was strong.
He just knew that he couldn’t DO that here!
“I’m fine, Oliver,” Kenneth insisted. “Just—“
“We should get in line before it gets any longer,” Oliver said. “You can go first, since you’re dancing around.”
Kenneth was NOT ‘dancing around’, he was just a little wriggly, that was all… So long as he kept his legs pressed against one another, he could handle the internal pressure. What he COULDN’T handle was the external pressure. Right now, when he WASN’T in line for the toilet, it was possible that people who saw him could write off his tension and anxious bouncing as something else. If Oliver forced him to get in line, and he couldn’t make himself stop moving around, then it would be OBVIOUS that he really had to go.
Then when he got to the front and couldn’t get his stream started, the room would be crowded enough for at least one person to notice THAT, too.
The line was off-limits. It would reward him with no relief, just an enormous amount of embarrassment.
Oliver wouldn’t allow him to leave, though. So, he was STUCK in the line, trying to think of what he should do. He didn’t even allow himself to hope that he might actually PEE here, he knew he had a better chance of winning the lottery on the same day he got struck by lightning twice. But, to avoid catastrophic humiliation, he was going to have to PRETEND to go, and to make it convincing.
He’d have to lock himself into a stall, unzip, and stay in there JUST long enough for an urgent pee to take place. He couldn’t remain there for too long, or it would be obvious that he was struggling. He couldn’t leave too soon or no one would think he’d actually peed. He’d have to hope that there would be enough watery noises in the room to cover up the fact that he wasn’t producing one. Then, he’d have to flush the toilet— A sound that always made his bladder cramp— to make it more convincing. After that, he’d be forced to leave the stall and wash his hands, all without squirming around and making it clear that his bladder hadn’t actually been emptied.
And, all of that was going to waste time he could have been spending on finding somewhere that he actually COULD relieve himself.
First thing’s first, he had to endure the line. It was partially out the door, and in the time since he and Oliver had joined it, a few more men had gotten in behind them. Kenneth was wary of them, they had a clear view of him, they could see that he was bouncing up and down. He tried to stop, but he just couldn’t. If he went still for longer than a second, his bladder started to shudder and squeeze in on itself, walls spasming with the need to push out his liquids.
He was being so obvious about it… Squirming and bobbing up and down as he waited for a toilet that he KNEW he wouldn’t be able to use.
The line was moving quickly, at least. So, hopefully he wouldn’t waste TOO much time here. He’d endure this Hell of awkwardness, put up with his bladder stretching out even further, and then go find a spot where his body would actually be willing to cooperate. Somewhere that wasn’t crowded, somewhere that people wouldn’t be waiting on him to finish, somewhere that—
“You’re dancing a LOT,” Oliver said. “You’re about ready to go right here!”
Somewhere… Somewhere without Oliver!
“I— I wouldn’t do that!” Kenneth cried, horrified at the suggestion. His midsection felt bloated, and he attempted to use the picture frame as some kind of ‘shield’ to hide the hand that had gone to his crotch. Honestly, he WISHED he could go right here. If his bladder didn’t freeze up and refuse to empty out, he needed relief so badly that he’d just unzip and let go into the dirt between his feet. Screw the line. He was done waiting.
But, his body just didn’t WORK that way, and no amount of desperation would change that. “B—Be quiet, Oliver!”
“You’re holding yourself,” Oliver said. “You’re close to bursting. You should ask if you can cut ahead.”
Well. That would get all of this over with faster… But, it would be humiliating. He was crossing his legs now, jiggling in place, gripping his dick as he tried pathetically to hide that fact with a picture frame. Begging to skip the line would make it even worse.
The line kept moving, and eventually Kenneth could actually get through the door of the restroom, his ears immediately being assaulted by an onslaught of water. Streams gushing into toilets, hissing into urinals, sink faucets running. Occasionally, one of the men peeing would let out a sigh, making Kenneth bounce faster and blush harder. It was like they were showing off. ‘Oh, look at me, I can piss wherever I want! I don’t have to hold it in all day, every day!’
It annoyed him to no end. Didn’t they realize that SOME people didn’t have that luxury, and that being forced to stand there and listen to them vocalize how good it felt to piss was torturous? Kenneth was so irritated, his bladder scorching and flaring within him. He needed to get OUT of here, he couldn’t stand the sounds, every drop of fluid being ejected in that room was adding to his burden, and if he didn’t find some freaking silence and privacy—
“The sounds here are driving you crazy,” Oliver said. “I can tell. Only a few more minutes. Try not to listen, that will make it worse.”
Kenneth felt one of his eyelids spasm. ‘Yes, Oliver,’ he thought. ‘I’m AWARE of that. I KNOW that if I listen to people piss, I’ll need to piss even worse! Thank you for that astute observation! Please never speak to me again!’
Finally, he was next in line. Not that it really mattered. He’d be leaving this room as full as he’d entered it. Maybe— Maybe he should go to the medical building after this. Elizabeth knew of his… ‘condition’, if he explained he was locked out of his room, she’d let him use the private restroom there. Or maybe he should—
He felt Oliver nudging him and looked up to see that—
All of the stalls were still locked, but one urinal was available. If he were NORMAL, then he’d scramble in front of it and release his pent-up stream. Since he wasn’t normal, his heart just started to pound loudly in his ears. The urinals didn’t have dividers, it was going to be WAY harder to fake a pee there than it would be in a stall…
Oliver poked him once more, and Kenneth forced himself over to the urinal, if only to get AWAY from him. His insides churned once he was in front of it. One of the most frustrating aspects of his problem was that his bladder still reacted to the sight of the urinal, lurching and spasming and pushing hard against his strained holding muscles, as if it really WAS about to empty.
Then, of course, when he unzipped and aimed at the thing, everything immediately came to a screeching stop. His bladder just kept throbbing, twisting up on itself, refusing to give out for even a second— Ohhh, just one second of relief would be amazing. But, it was utterly unobtainable for him. He was actually SHAKING from how nervous he felt.
With the bathroom being so crowded, and with everyone in it bursting to go, nobody bothered with leaving ‘gaps’ between the urinals. Every one of them was taken and in use, so Kenneth was shoulder to shoulder with two people as he tried to go, all too aware of the noise their streams were making. For a moment, he tried to shut his eyes and just FOCUS on the sound, thinking that it might coax his OWN bladder into releasing. It didn’t work, of course. The hissing was less a prompt to start peeing, and more a reminder of his complete lack of privacy.
The two beside him both left and Kenneth knew he’d been standing there for way too long now. But, for some reason, he couldn’t make himself LEAVE. He couldn’t handle the finality of tucking himself back into his pants and zipping them up. He needed to go so freaking badly, he was AT a toilet, he should have been peeing! He WANTED to pee, he wanted to unclench and let it all come flowing out, in the middle of this crowded room. He wanted to piss so loudly and furiously that it drowned out everyone else. He wanted to… He just wanted to go! This was so unfair!
Oliver took one of the urinals beside him and he felt the back of his neck prickle. He had a sneaking suspicion that Oliver NEVER shut the fuck up when he was peeing next to someone else.
Sure enough… “You’ve been here a while.”
‘I KNOW that!’ Kenneth seethed. ‘I’ve been trying to—‘
“You aren’t peeing.”
Kenneth panicked and tried to cover his dick. “Are you looking?!”
“No,” Oliver said. “But, I have ears… Normally people start urinating after a second or two— Especially if they’re desperate like you are. But, some people are pee-shy, which is the inability to urinate in the presence of—“
“That’s it!” Kenneth snapped, furiously tucking his cock back into his pants and zipping them. Oliver was… He was fucking with him. He HAD to be fucking with him. No one could be that oblivious unless they were TRYING. Kenneth stormed out of the restroom, not bothering with the sinks. He couldn’t handle having water touch his hands now, and needed to be as far away from Oliver as possible.
In his anger, he’d started to take harsh, stomping steps that shook the contents of his bloated bladder. It hurt, but he was reaching that level of rage where everything else tended to fall away for him, and the only thing that mattered was finding someone to scream at and something to break.
Since Oliver was not here to shout at, Kenneth just angrily muttered to himself as he went back to the barrack. “Stupid… Annoying… Who the Hell DOES shit like that?! I’m gonna… I’m gonna staple his god damned urethra shut, see how he likes it— I’ll—“ He was trembling, it was getting hard to see straight, his breaths were getting more and more shallow with each passing second.
One hand was gripping his crotch, the other held onto the picture frame. The frame for the photo of his Mother…
When Kenneth was really little, when Mother had still been alive, he didn’t get angry like this. He didn’t get so mad that he felt like his chest was going to blow up, and like he’d die if he didn’t scream himself hoarse. He’d get a LITTLE frustrated sometimes, and Mother would just hold his hand and tell him to focus on his breathing.
He squeezed the picture frame in his hand almost as tightly as he was holding his aching member, and he tried to breathe. Slowly, the heat and rage dwindled, and he could see clearly again. He could see that he’d made it back to the barrack.
He’d just wait by the door to his room. He’d wait for Dwight to come back. Kenneth was done with people for the day. If the next one to speak to him WASN’T the one he was in love with, he was liable to yell at them until they went deaf.
He gingerly sat next to the door, setting the frame down beside himself, finally freeing up his other hand so it could give his dick a nice, firm grip. He was alone here. He could writhe as much as he wanted here. So, he did. He curled over on himself and squeezed his member as hard as he could. Sweat rolled down his back, and he did his best not to think about how close he was to his restroom. It was just on the other side of the door! If he just had something he could pick the lock with…
But, a picture frame was incapable of such a task, and no part of his uniform could be used for it, either.
He just had to wait, he had to deal with the rippling pangs of urgency that worsened every time he inhaled.
Kenneth didn’t have to wait TOO much longer, thankfully. Dwight had finished his work for the day. Kenneth didn’t notice him approaching until his hand was suddenly on his shoulder. “Kenneth, what are you doing out here? What’s the matter?”
“M—My pocket had a hole in it, I lost my key and locked myself out,” Kenneth said. “And I haven’t… I haven’t peed all day!”
Dwight noticed where Kenneth’s hands were… “Oh, poor thing…” he said gently. He stood to unlock the door, his chest aching with sympathy. He knew what day this was, he knew what it meant to Kenneth, that he’d ALREADY been in a fragile emotional state BEFORE he’d gotten desperate with no means of release. He hoped nothing too upsetting had happened to him as a result…
Dwight opened the door and stepped aside so Kenneth could go in first, he tried not to pay attention to how wobbly Kenneth’s legs were as he walked. He was really bursting…
Kenneth swayed from foot to foot as he unzipped in front of the toilet, and started to pee before he’d aimed properly, a strong tidal wave of a stream slamming into the water within the toilet bowl, creating an echoing hiss. He blushed as he corrected himself so it would make less noise. There was little he could do about what poured from his mouth, though; A guttural moan that made it VERY clear how badly he’d needed to do this. “Ahhhh….”
Outside, Dwight blushed at the noise. It had been a while since the two of them had explored one another, and that euphoric, panting groan sounded enough like the exclamations of pleasure Kenneth made in bed to get Dwight a little excited.
He turned to Kenneth’s bed, seeing the items still laid out on it. This was not the right day to resume their experimentations. Dwight’s eyes stilled on the sealed envelope. Why hadn’t Kenneth ever opened that?
Kenneth returned a couple minutes later, pink in the face and looking utterly relieved.
“Better?” Dwight asked.
Kenneth nodded, then looked away.
“Something bothering you still?”
Kenneth explained the incident with Oliver to him, and how furious he’d gotten. “I swear, he WAS trying to mess with me this time!”
“It’s so hard to tell with him,” Dwight said. “But, it’s okay you got mad about it.”
“I wish I didn’t…” Kenneth said. “When I get mad it… Sometimes it literally HURTS, physically. Is that normal?”
Dwight paused. He’d never gotten so angry that it caused him pain before. “I don’t know,” he said.
“Today was supposed to be about… You know, my Mother,” Kenneth said. “Not about how pissed Oliver could make me feel.”
“It’s alright,” Dwight said. “I’m sure she doesn’t want you to spend all your time grieving…”
Kenneth sighed. “It feels wrong if I don’t,” he said. “I… I miss her so much.”
Dwight sat down on the bed and gestured for Kenneth to join him. He pulled him into a hug. “I know you do… You shouldn’t have lost her so young, especially not… Not in the WAY you did.”
“I wish she was still here,” Kenneth said. “She’d be able to calm me down when I get mad… She’d probably even be able to fix my stupid piss-thing.”
Dwight wasn’t so sure about that. He figured Kenneth’s Mother would TRY to fix it, but would she succeed in getting rid of it for good?
“What’s in the envelope?” Dwight asked, trying to change the subject.
“It’s… It’s her last letter to me,” Kenneth said.
“You’ve never read it?”
Kenneth shook his head. “Once I read it… That’s… ‘It’. You know?”
Dwight could understand that, but… “She must have really WANTED you to read whatever’s in there. She wouldn’t have left it for you otherwise.”
“I— I know, but… What if it’s something bad?”
“What could be bad in it?”
She could have written about what she wanted for Kenneth’s future; A wife, a family with children… She could be disappointed in what had actually happened.
Kenneth shrugged.
“I bet it’s something good,” Dwight said. “Your Mother loved you. I think you should read what she had to say.”
Kenneth picked up the envelope. He hesitated, hands shaking, then he forced himself to peel it open. He started to read it quietly, but then his breath started to hitch, his eyes watering.
‘To my darling Kenny,
I’m writing this now because I fear there may come a day when I will no longer be beside you. Truth be told, Kenny, I’ve been reflecting on a lot of things. A lot of regrets, mostly. Throughout my life, I’ve never been much more than a doormat. I’ve always been too focused on what my own Mother wanted me to be than on who I wanted me to be.
I’ve not yet told you about several things that happened to me, but when I was a child, I was hurt very badly by several men. My Mother knew, and was happy to accept money from these men in exchange for time with me. You will understand when you are older. I felt it was my duty to allow these things to be done to me. Those feelings are ones I never managed to run away from.
I don’t know if you remember, but you used to ask me why I married your Father. Over and over again. Back then, I was pretty shaken up by this, but I never once thought you were wrong to ask.
Years ago, my Mother and I had just moved to town. I played piano every night in a small bar to help make ends meet. This is where I encountered your Father for the first time. From the start, I did not feel comfortable in his company, but the word ‘no’ had long-since been removed from my vocabulary, ‘yes’ had been saturated into me. I never told him ‘go away’, I never told him ‘I want to be left alone’. Obediently, I played the part that had been written for me from as far back as I can remember.
At the same time, I’d begun to attend the local church— The one I’ve brought you to a few times. It was there that I met Ann; you and she met once when you were very small, but I’m unsure if you’d remember her now. For a time, Ann was my everything. I know it’s not proper for a woman to view another woman in these terms, but her beauty captivated me. She had the most delightful singing voice. When she spoke to me, her words filled me with elation and hope. Every moment I was beside her, I was able to feel happy, I was able to feel that I may someday become the sort of person that could stand up for herself and be heard.
But then, there was my Mother. I spent my entire life trying to please her, everything I did was done at her beck and call. When the moment came where I did truly need to stand up for myself, when I was made to choose between Mother and Ann, I faltered. I made the wrong choice. I failed myself, but worse, I failed Ann.
After that night, the worst night of my life, my Mother reminded me of your Father. “He’s a nice man. Why don’t you spend more time with him?” And, like the well-trained dog I’d become, I obeyed her. I spoke to your Father more and more, ignoring the ill feelings he gave me. It wasn’t long before he managed to coax me into laying with him. He did so by telling me a lie; He told me I was smart, and only Ann had ever said that before. I thought, perhaps, I could pretend he was Ann. I thought, perhaps, that he could cure me of my feelings for her.
He didn’t. He instead had left me with child. Becoming pregnant out of wedlock was the final straw for my Mother, and your Father’s Father hauled him out in front of everyone in town and beat him in broad daylight until he agreed to do the proper thing and make me into his wife. Those nine months were some of the hardest of my life. Every second of every day, I lied to myself. I told myself that it would be okay, that I could learn to love your Father. I tried to ignore his constant drinking, his aggression. When he hit me, I thought only of what I must have done to provoke it— I am sure you know this feeling, please don’t listen to it. Your Father’s mistreatment of you isn’t your fault.
But, I also was thinking of you, of how I couldn’t wait to meet you. When you were born, I learned how to smile again. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. When your Father allowed you and I to go outside, everyone loved you. Everyone wanted to take you home. You were always polite, always with manners. Oh, I remember whenever you couldn’t sleep, you’d crawl up into my lap and beg me to play piano for you. Whenever I was hurt, I could always count on you to hug me.
I am overwhelmed with the wish that I had been able to do more for you. I have done everything in my power to protect you from you Father. I have been up half of tonight trying to think of some way out of this madhouse, and I have nothing. Without your Father, we will be without money or shelter. The bar sent me away as soon as my pregnancy became noticeable, they won’t welcome me back now, and your Father would always be there nevertheless. My Mother is so overwhelmed by the shame I brought to her, she would not be willing to help.
The only person I may be able to rely on is Ann. I haven’t had a true conversation with her since you were two. It has been five years. I can’t ask such a tremendous favor of the girl whose heart I broke.
I have accepted that someday, your Father may cause something to happen to me. I don’t think I’m that afraid for myself, but I am for you. You are the most precious thing in my world and, if I ever leave you, I will continue to watch over you from wherever I end up.
Do you remember when you were learning to tie your shoes? It took you a while. But, you never gave up. I’d find you in a corner of the room trying to tie knots. That’s one thing about you, Kenny, you never give up. I hope you never, ever lose that spirit I see in you. Don’t be like me. Don’t allow your Father to dictate your life. Don’t let him win.
I love you. I’ll always love you. And I hope you find happiness in your life. You deserve only the best.
Meeting you has been the greatest gift of my life, and I’m so grateful to have had this opportunity. I never got to be the person I wanted to be, but I wouldn’t give you up for anything.
However, I do have one final, selfish request. If you ever have the chance, please tell Ann that I never stopped loving her.’
Kenneth didn’t think he’d ever cried harder at anything in his life. |
The first thing Kenneth did the next day was go to Bryce with Dwight and request more time off. He explained the letter to him. “I think I do remember Ann,” he said. “She was in the choir. She may still live in the same town, and it’s a really small place, so I can probably—“
“Paulson,” Bryce interrupted. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up too much. That letter only listed this woman’s first name, and the name ‘Ann’ is extremely common. I’ll bet there are several women with that name living in your hometown.”
“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t at least try to find her,” Kenneth insisted. He didn’t care what Bryce said, he was going to look. And he was GOING to find Ann. His Mother had said he ‘never gave up’, he didn’t want to prove her wrong now. Certainly not about her dying wish.
Bryce sighed. He could tell this was deeply important to Kenneth, and he understood it. He really did. He just didn’t think traveling to the other end of the country in the hopes of locating a woman who may not even be there anymore was such a great idea.
“Kenneth…” Dwight said. “I know this means a lot, but the one time you saw her you were, what— Two?”
“Yeah.”
“So, that’s over twenty years ago,” Dwight said. “She could be anywhere by now. Like you said, it’s a small town. If you ONLY ever saw her once—“
“That’s just the only time I REMEMBER seeing her,” Kenneth remarked. “I could have seen her fifty other times after that, but I just didn’t realize because I didn’t know that she was important!”
Dwight understood Kenneth’s determination as well. He too just didn’t think the odds were in favor of finding Ann. He also didn’t believe Kenneth had quite thought all of this out yet.
After Kenneth had killed his Father and staged a false suicide, he and Dwight had fled from their town as fast as they could. They had never, EVER gone back. That place was filled to the gills with memories. Some of them were good, like the day they met, the games they’d played together… But the vast majority were just awful. Dwight’s skin was itching a little at the thought of going back— And the worst things HE’D suffered as a kid were loneliness, hunger and a bit of bullying.
Kenneth had been utterly tortured in that place.
He didn’t seem to be thinking over how it would feel to go BACK there at all.
“Besides, maybe the church kept records of everyone that was ever in the choir.”
“I guess that’s possible, if unlikely,” Bryce said. “But, we have work to do HERE. At the very least, it will take us several days to GET there and locate this person, and we may not find her at all.”
“Y—Yeah,” Dwight said. “Maybe we can try this someday, but not right n—“
“You two don’t have to come with me,” Kenneth said abruptly, turning and walking away.
Dwight was rooted to his spot. He was certain about only one thing; Kenneth could NOT return to his childhood home alone. Just the idea of Kenneth seeing all those places again with no one there to hold him…
“Hey, wait,” Dwight rushed after him. “I’ll go with you.” He took Kenneth’s hand. “Bryce can probably pull some strings and get us time off, and I know this means a lot to you. I was just—“
“Besides,” Bryce said, startling Dwight whom hadn’t noticed him following. “The second you need to piss during your trip, and you realize Dwight and I aren’t there to help you, you’re gonna freak out.”
“I— I would not!” Kenneth scoffed, knowing that he definitely WOULD. The journey to his hometown would be extremely long. Even if he didn’t drink even one drop of water during it, he’d be beyond full by the time it was over, and would be incapable of emptying. He was instantly hit with the mental image of himself hobbling into town with his hands between his legs and trying to remember where he may be able to find decent privacy. The search for Ann would transform into a search for relief REALLY fast and he’d probably get so overwhelmed by the pressure that he’d forget the ACTUAL reason he’d gone there!
“We’ll go with you,” Dwight said. “It’s just… I don’t want you to get your hopes up too high. We might not find her.”
Kenneth nodded, but inside he thought ‘I WILL find her, whatever it takes.’
***
A few days later, the three of them were waiting at the train station. “We’re going to have to walk for a while too,” Dwight warned Bryce. “The town Kenneth and I grew up in doesn’t have its own station, the closest one isn’t TOO far though.”
Bryce shrugged, “Walking’s fine,” he said. “But, there really isn’t a station there? How small is this place?”
“Tiny,” Dwight said. “I mean, there are probably only a couple hundred people living there. You can’t even really call it a town, more like a village. A train station isn’t the only thing it’s missing.”
Bryce had grown up in one of the country’s largest towns, it had multiple train stations just to get from one part of it to another. Over a million people had lived there, at least. Growing up, Bryce was always among strangers when he went out, encountering new people and exploring places he’d never been before— Despite living there his whole life.
Kenneth and Dwight probably knew every bit of their hometown forwards and backwards. And, Bryce doubted many of the people there had been strangers to them for long. Everybody would have known everybody.
Something about that was tugging at the back of Bryce’s mind. He wasn’t sure what, just that it was making him uncomfortable.
“What else is it missing?” Bryce asked, trying to will the unsettling sensation away.
“You know how you went to school in a specific building with a bunch of other kids?” Kenneth asked. “Our village didn’t have a place like that. You either sent your kids to a neighboring town, which was expensive, or you taught them at home. Most kids were taught at home. Like I said, the schools were far away and it cost money to go to them if you didn’t live close enough. Lots of people couldn’t afford that.”
“The nuns at the orphanage taught me and the other boys I lived with,” Dwight said. “So, it was kind of like going to school, I just didn’t have to walk anywhere new.”
“My mother was my teacher,” Kenneth said. “But after… Well, Father didn’t bother continuing with it.”
The uncomfortable feeling grew as Bryce recalled all the times he’d told Kenneth that he was an idiot. Kenneth had ceased receiving any form of education after his Mother died, when he’d only been seven. That meant anything Kenneth DID know, he’d had to learn it by himself. He’d had to teach himself how to read and write without any guidance, and with someone torturing him the whole time.
Kenneth could even speak a foreign language— It was one Bryce didn’t understand, but when they’d visited neighboring countries, Kenneth had been the only one that was able to read signs, ask for directions, hold conversations with people. Kenneth had somehow managed to become fluent in a new language without anyone else’s instruction.
An idiot wouldn’t be able to do that.
“How’d you learn how to speak a new language?” Bryce asked. “You’re able to do it so well, you must have started young.”
“I did,” Kenneth said. “When I was little, I always thought that one day I’d be able to grow up and leave Father, and I’d go live on the beach where everything’s bright and warm and calm. So, I couldn’t let him… I… I had to make sure I DID grow up, because otherwise I’d never go. But, this country doesn’t have a coast so I’d have to go somewhere else. And I thought ‘I probably won’t be able to FIND the beach if I can’t talk to anyone,’ so I got a translation dictionary from the library— We did have one of those, it was just really small— and a lot of the time, once Father was asleep, I’d just read a page over and over again until I’d memorized it, then I’d hide the book so Father wouldn’t take it.”
Bryce couldn’t imagine reading the same page of a book multiple times— Especially not something as boring as a dictionary. He really couldn’t imagine doing that when a person who’d repeatedly left him at death’s door was asleep in the other room. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate.
Kenneth did ALL that just so he could see the beach?
“You’ve still never GONE to a beach, have you?” Bryce asked.
Kenneth shook his head. “I’m sure it will happen one day,” he said.
Bryce hoped so. The unpleasant feeling in his head was still there. What Kenneth wanted, what he’d spent his life dreaming about, was something so simple. ‘I had to make sure I did grow up’. Had this wish been one of the things that kept him alive, kept him from succumbing to his own despair, kept his body pressing forwards in the face of extreme dehydration and severe injuries?
Kenneth deserved to go to the beach…
Bryce wished THAT was where they were headed now. Not to the tiny village where Kenneth had nearly died several times.
‘Only a couple hundred people…’
That kept nagging at Bryce, and he still couldn’t figure out why.
He cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the lump that had suddenly formed there. He didn’t know why THAT had appeared, either. The sensation had no business being there. “S—So, how long are we gonna be on the train for?”
“At least twelve hours,” Dwight replied. “Possibly longer. There will be stops, of c—“
“Has Kenneth… Um…” Bryce straightened his throat once more. He was annoyed with himself, he was feeling… ‘protective’ of Kenneth. Scared about the myriad of things that could make this excursion even MORE uncomfortable for him. “S—Smith, I order you to assist Paulson with his ‘personal matters’ now, before the train comes!”
Kenneth’s face immediately flamed red. “Wh—Why are you being so loud!?” He snapped. “And I already— I handled it before we CAME h—“
Dwight touched Kenneth’s back gently, whispering to him, “It probably IS a good idea to try and do it again…” he said. “Just in case.”
He led Kenneth towards the restrooms, relieved to see no one milling around near them. Once inside, Dwight held onto Kenneth like he usually did, kneading his shoulders.
Kenneth tried to use the toilet, but he didn’t really need to go. He could feel, perhaps, a small bit of pressure tingling within him, but hardly enough to convince his muscles to cede. He shut his eyes, attempting to relax. He knew it really WOULD be for the best if he boarded the train completely empty, not even a drop locked away in his bladder, he just couldn’t DO it, though.
“Mmmf,” Kenneth bit down on his lip, straining against himself. He felt some heat at the base of his length and thought MAYBE something else would follow, but it didn’t. The thought of letting out a short trickle of liquid didn’t make him feel anxious like he usually did, he wasn’t fretting about the time wasted, about how he SHOULD be holding it in longer, about Father scolding him for peeing when he barely needed it.
His bladder just… Wasn’t used to emptying this frequently. He didn’t even feel its walls trying to squeeze like they did when he was truly locked up. If anything, those muscles felt kind of numb, like they didn’t know what was expected of them.
Kenneth DID worry when he realized that, thinking that there was a chance him constantly holding to his limit had rendered his bladder INCAPABLE of draining unless it was uncomfortably full…
“It’s alright, Kenneth,” Dwight said. “You’re safe, no one’s near the door, it’s alri—“
“I just don’t have to pee right now,” Kenneth interrupted.
“You’re sure?”
“I KNOW when I need to pee, Dwight…” Kenneth said.
So, they left. Dwight could tell Kenneth really WAS fine. He hadn’t been gnawing on his hands or shuffling around. And, it had only been an hour or so since he’d last urinated. It was reasonable to think he wouldn’t need it again so soon.
Dwight was just a little bit more concerned about Kenneth than usual today. Kenneth was ACTING like nothing in the world was bothering him, but Dwight didn’t think that would last. He didn’t see how it COULD last. As soon as they reached their hometown, as soon as all the memories were dumped on top of him at once, there was no telling what that would do to him.
The train arrived, and the three boarded it. The first few hours were uneventful. More boring than anything. Kenneth and Dwight talked while Bryce read. But, eventually they ran out of conversation topics, since the single biggest thing on both of their minds was being steadfastly ignored. Bryce couldn’t concentrate on his book so well either, the nagging feeling in the back of his mind taking precedence over everything else.
‘Only a couple hundred people…’ Why was that sticking with him so mu—
In a village so small, everyone KNEW everyone.
In a village so small, secrets couldn’t stay secret forever.
Someone had to have KNOWN.
Bryce had never seen photos of Kenneth as a child, but the injuries he’d received would have been visible. He would have been constantly bruised. His complexion would have been sallow. He would not have LOOKED like a healthy, well cared for child.
And, everyone in that town would have seen him. He was not kept locked inside twenty-four seven. He went outside, he MUST have gone outside in order to meet Dwight and become such close friends with him.
People would have noticed him.
They would have noticed and, for it to have continued like it did, they would have done absolutely nothing.
***
Kenneth looked out the window of the train. The view didn’t give him much idea of how close they were getting. Nothing to see except for long stretches of trees. Dread was churning in his chest the longer the journey went on, however. His skin felt tingly, and he was terribly itchy just below the surface. Since the feeling was underneath his skin, he wasn’t able to scratch it away. It just kept worsening.
Something else was worsening too. The longer he sat, lost in thoughts about where he was about to go, the more his bladder ached. Kenneth wasn’t used to the need getting this strong so fast. He knew the stress he was under must have been the cause of it, but that didn’t make it any less irritating.
He shifted his legs, crossing them at the ankles and rubbing them together. The pressure eased slightly, but not enough. He was going to have to pee soon, otherwise this might get painful.
This train did have a toilet. If he were normal, he could get up right now and use it. He wasn’t normal, though. And he was very self-conscious about how it would look if he entered the small bathroom with Dwight. He’d done that a couple times before, but today felt… Different. His back was twitching, nerves jittering through his entire body. He was fully alert to everything. It was like when he’d had coffee for the first time, but instead of making him feel excited and powerful, now the increased awareness and overflow of energy only set him on edge.
They weren’t even in town yet, but Kenneth could already hear memories of his Father’s voice shouting into his ears.
“You need to stop spending all your time clinging to that orphan boy. People are going to think you’re a fairy. And, if you think I treat you badly, just wait and see how EVERYONE ELSE will treat you for THAT.”
Kenneth would hold it until the next stop. It was far less likely anyone would notice him and Dwight going to the toilet together there.
He just hoped the next stop came soon. The anxious trills moving through him were convening around his bladder, squeezing against it roughly. He was shifting with discomfort, trying his best to keep his hands away from his mouth. If he started to chew on them, Bryce and Dwight would know what was bothering him.
In a weird way, Kenneth was kind of grateful for the need to pee. It served as a distraction from everything else that had been on his mind. His fears about returning ‘home’ were pushed aside in favor of thoughts like ‘I hope we stop soon’, and ‘It’s getting harder to hold it.’
In any other scenario, Kenneth would be trying NOT to focus his mind on his ever growing urge for relief, but when the only other things he could think of were even more unpleasant, he allowed himself to concentrate on the throbbing of his bladder. He knew it was a bad idea, giving the frantic tingles encircling the base of his cock his undivided attention would certainly make them worse. But, he was sure a stop WOULD be coming soon. He’d have a chance to empty his bladder before it got too agonizing.
Sure enough, the train arrived at a station only half an hour later. Kenneth had been subtly squeezing his thighs together that entire time, and tightened his muscles up even further as his bladder gave a stronger lurch. He bounced a knee before moving to stand up.
He’d been sitting in one position for such a long time that his nerve-endings all sprang to life from the sudden motion. The liquid that had been pressing itself against his opening surged against it, and the sensitive walls of his bladders contracted sharply. “Dwight,” Kenneth said. “Can we go outside for a minute? I— I really want to stretch my legs.”
Dwight stood and came to Kenneth’s side. He knew what Kenneth ACTUALLY wanted to do, and he was sure Bryce knew as well. It made him a little uneasy that Kenneth hadn’t told the truth this time— He’d been doing well at confessing his needs when only his friends were there to hear him. He hoped the pressure Kenneth was no doubt feeling wasn’t causing him to back-slide a little…
Bryce got up, “Guess I’ll go too,” he said. “Have to make sure you idiots make it back before the train leaves again.”
Dwight could tell that Bryce wasn’t telling the truth, either. Bryce’s ankles had been crossing quite a bit the last several minutes.
Dwight led them both off the train and towards the restroom. However, a sign notified them that it was out of order.
Kenneth finally started to worry. His need had become rather insistent, and his bladder had gone loose anticipating some relief. His sore holding muscles pulled taut, prompting him to bounce uncomfortably on his toes.
Dwight easily sensed Kenneth’s panic. He knew Kenneth wouldn’t be able to use the toilet that was ON the train— Hell, HE could barely manage that himself! He knew Kenneth had been holding it a while already, he knew the next stop wouldn’t come for a long time. But, there was a solution— A very easy one. The station was surrounded by trees. Kenneth would be able to water one if Dwight kept him calm. They’d done that plenty of times, and Dwight saw no reason that THIS one would be any different.
Kenneth gave Dwight a grateful look as he was ushered towards the trees. Bryce followed after them, then moved a few paces away once they’d stopped. Bryce’s stream began to flow easily a second later, managing to force a jealous whimper from Kenneth’s mouth.
Dwight sighed, annoyed. Whenever he and Kenneth both needed to pee, he ALWAYS held his own bladder until Kenneth had managed to get himself started. Urinating right in front of Kenneth when he was still fighting his body would just be cruel.
Maybe the hiss of Bryce’s release would help coax Kenneth’s bladder into unclamping, though. Dwight HOPED that would work.
He stood behind Kenneth and, once he’d heard the other’s zipper coming down, he placed his hands atop his shoulders. He began to rub, gently at first, and then putting more of his strength into it. Kenneth shuddered, jiggling in place. Not a drop had emerged from him.
“It’s alright, Kenneth,” Dwight said. “It’s just the three of us back here. You’re okay.” He continued to whisper into his friend’s ear, awaiting the moment Kenneth came apart and melted into his arms, shaking and letting out those delirious moans of thankful relief.
Nothing happened for several more seconds. This was taking a lot longer than usual. Dwight searched for any of the ‘signs’ that sometimes appeared right before Kenneth started to pee. But, Kenneth’s breathing wasn’t evening out, the tension Dwight could feel in his shoulders hadn’t let up at all.
“I’ve got you…” Dwight assured, trying not to let any of his own panic show. Why wasn’t this working? This morning, before they’d left the barrack, Kenneth had peed with no issue! And he was alone now, only near people he trusted…
Maybe he just didn’t want Bryce here now. Maybe that was all it was. After Bryce had finished, Dwight asked him to go wait back by the train, then he repeated to Kenneth that they were COMPLETELY by themselves. “Bryce left,” he said. “It’s just us now.”
Kenneth wriggled, stomping his feet in obvious frustration. “I—It won’t work,” he said. “And I… I really DO have to go now,” he admitted.
“I know,” Dwight told him. It was hard to keep a calm tone now. They were running out of time. The train was going to leave soon, and if Kenneth didn’t manage to relax… “You need to let it out, you’ll feel so much better… Just shut your eyes. Shut your eyes, and just focus on my voice, focus on the feeling of my hands.”
Kenneth clamped his eyes closed, and his jaw clenched up as well. He WAS focusing on Dwight’s voice. It and the aggravating waves of piss scorching in his midsection were the only things that EXISTED to Kenneth anymore. Ah, he had to pee so bad, but it was as though he’d been GLUED shut, no liquid able to make it out.
“Nnnh,” Kenneth whined in the back of his throat as his bladder swelled, convulsed, and then knotted up. He couldn’t go, he couldn’t go, he couldn’t go…
How close were they to his hometown, anyway? How close were they to—
They weren’t close to Father at all. They could NEVER be close to that man, because he was DEAD. At most, they may have been getting near his rotting corpse buried six feet underground. But they were NOT near HIM.
Ghosts didn’t exist. Kenneth had NEVER believed in such things. Father’s spirit wasn’t haunting that town, roaming through it just in case Kenneth ever visited it again. He was NOT going to see his Father when they arrived. It was impossible.
But, he’d see his Father’s house. He’d see the bar Father always went to. He’d see the streets he’d run down every time he’d attempted to escape from Father. He may see some of Father’s friends.
Father was dead, but the town was stained with him. He leaked into every crevice, he coated every surface.
Kenneth couldn’t pee. He desperately, DESPERATELY needed to, but he couldn’t. Everything was twisting up within him, everything ached, everything was so heavy. His bladder’s fullness was just one more discomfort he needed to endure.
Dwight’s chest clenched when he spoke; “The train is going to leave in a minute or so…”
Kenneth made a strangled sound as he forced himself to zip his pants back up. His bladder thrashed against the finality of that action, which was already frustrating as Hell since it had had PLENTY of time to actually release. But, when it released a protesting spurt into his boxers the INSTANT his clothing was all back in place, a fire lit deep inside Kenneth’s body.
Barely aware of himself, he kicked a foot against the tree he’d failed to make use of. He hadn’t been thinking, he was just so fucking mad, so when his bladder responded to the impact by spasming more harshly than ever he hadn’t even prepared himself for it. Another drizzle of pee burst forth, warming the material encasing his dick. His hands darted to crotch, first squeezing and then trying to unzip again— If he was leaking, maybe that meant he could go! That had never worked before, but he just NEEDED—
Dwight was rubbing his arm, “Shhh…” he said. “I know, I’m really sorry. You want to find your Mother’s friend, right?”
Right. Yes. That was what this was ALL about. Kenneth couldn’t pee now. Even if, by some miracle, he managed to start gushing furiously the millisecond he’d yanked his cock back out, he was FULL. By the time he was done, the train would have left.
“There’s… There IS a toilet on the train,” Dwight reminded as he walked Kenneth back towards it. “If it gets… Really bad for you, we can try it again there.”
It already WAS really bad for him… “But, someone will see us go in together…”
“I’ll act like I’m about to burst,” Dwight said. “They’ll just think we can’t wait on each other. It will be okay.”
They boarded the train again. Bryce could tell Kenneth hadn’t been successful, it was obvious in the way he moved, and the way he sat. He was jittery, his knees bouncing and rubbing, his hands going to his mouth. It made Bryce feel…
Okay, fine. It made him feel concerned. It made him feel genuinely fucking concerned for Kenneth, because he had a pretty good idea of why he hadn’t been able to pee while they’d been stopped. If Bryce was right, and Kenneth was so stressed about returning ‘home’ that it had kept him from peeing, then Bryce didn’t think relief was waiting for him once they’d reached their destination. He was imagining Kenneth not being able to go AT ALL the entire time they were there, having to just leave and give up on his quest for Ann in the hope that he’d FINALLY be able to urinate once he got far enough away.
Bryce wanted to try assisting Kenneth now. Bryce wanted to hold Kenneth the same way Dwight did, try to convince his body to let it out. But, if Dwight had failed, then Bryce was sure he had no chance of managing it.
He was also sort of guilty now. He’d emptied his bladder while they’d been stopped, just ASSUMING Kenneth would be doing the same thing in a few seconds. He should have waited. He should still be holding it too…
Kenneth now tried to IGNORE the pulsating of his bladder. He couldn’t believe he’d been ‘grateful’ for it earlier. It was really starting to hurt, and having no clue as to when he might RID himself of it was making the torment nearly unbearable. He was starting to feel the pangs in his back, severe enough that they were making him dizzy. His back pounded sharply at regular intervals, almost like he was being struck there over and over agai—
He actually WAS being struck there over and over again! They hadn’t gone back to their same spots from earlier, and now there was a small child behind them, repeatedly kicking the back of their seat.
Kenneth’s back was already aching from the severity of his desperation, he didn’t need to have the area jabbed, too! He tensed himself up, one hand gripping his trembling knee and the other occasionally pinning itself between his thighs. Anger had been surging through him since the first second his bladder had leaked back at the station, THIS was making it build up to a crescendo. He felt so much enraged heat flaring through him that he had to squirm even MORE to try to get rid of it.
He knew he had to tell the kid to knock it off, or say something to the boy’s father whom was sitting next to him. But, unless he managed to cool off first, he was guaranteed to just yell if he opened his mouth.
Dwight caught sight of Kenneth’s eyelid twitching, which was generally a precursor to one of his fits. “I know, I feel it too,” he whispered. “Let me handle it, okay?” He turned and addressed the father; “Could you tell your son to stop kicking?” He asked.
The father shrugged, and repeated Dwight’s request to the boy.
The kicking stopped. Kenneth’s back still felt like it was full of needles, the space beneath his ribcage flooded with stings, but at least it wasn’t getting clobbered into every couple seconds anymore.
That lasted about two minutes.
Then the child started up again.
Kenneth was startled by a ferocious jolt to his back, all of his muscles revolting at once and a few drops of pee getting pumped out into his boxers. He doubled forwards, both hands moving between his legs. A pained yelp fell from his lips before he could stop it. Then, still reeling from that, he was struck AGAIN.
Dwight patted his shoulder softly. “Do you want me to try taking you to the toilet?” He asked as quietly as he could.
The thought of standing up right now… He wasn’t even able to pry himself out of his hunched over position. Standing would probably kill him. He shook his head, eyes burning.
Bryce watched Kenneth coiling up, watching his body spasming each time he was kicked. The impacts certainly didn’t feel pleasant to Bryce, either, but HE wasn’t also desperate to pee. This must have been torturing Kenneth…
Bryce turned, “Can you give that kid something else to do?” He asked the father. Simultaneously, he was glancing around the train. There didn’t seem to be any other available seats they could move to.
The father, again, told his son to stop.
Again, it only lasted for about a minute.
Then, the boy landed a kick that hit directly beneath Kenneth’s ribs, colliding with the soft, vulnerable flesh there and making him jump out of his seat before doubling over, hissing through his teeth as he clutched at himself frantically with both hands. Holding himself, obviously desperate, his back igniting and flooding him with equal parts rage and agony. Endorphins flared through him, blurring his vision, and then—
“God dammit!” Kenneth exploded, just not in the way his body so desperately needed for him to. He whirled around, glaring down at the kid.“Can’t you just knock that off?! I’ve had enough! Stop kicking me!”
The little boy shrank back, his eyes welling. As the tears started to glide smoothly down his cheeks, an immense weight settled onto Kenneth. The child was terrified of him. The child thought he was going to hurt him. And, worst of all, for a brief second there, Kenneth had sort of WANTED to make him cry.
“I… I’m sorry…”
The father stood up, and at his full height he dwarfed Kenneth, “You’ve got no business talking to my son that way!” He yelled. “He’s just a kid, he doesn’t know any better!”
Kenneth shook, his lungs felt like they’d just stopped working. He couldn’t breathe. His bladder was broiling, his urethra stinging as though it had been lined with chili flakes. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He wanted to be back in his room, where he could pee, and where he was away from other people. He didn’t belong around other people, he couldn’t control himself. He was dangerous. He was just like his Father.
That was probably the real reason his bladder behaved the way it did. His body recognized that he wasn’t fit for human interaction, so it made certain that he couldn’t BE in public for very long without pain. His body knew that he belonged locked away somewhere by himself, forever. It was the only way to keep others safe from him.
“Get a grip,” the boy’s father snarled. “You psychopath.”
The little boy’s frown vanished immediately, replaced with snickering laughs.
Bryce and Dwight got up as well. Dwight gripped Kenneth’s arm, wishing he could take his hand instead. Bryce tried to speak; “I’m sorry, he… He gets motion sickness really easily, and the kicking—“
“That’s not an excuse,” the father interrupted. “You know, a person like him isn’t even fit to wear that uniform, it’s disgusting they’d even give him one. There are other places that are a better fit for him, like a padded cell in a lunatic asylum.”
Kenneth nodded. He did belong there. He thought of the story Elizabeth had told about her neighbor that had been sent to one of those places. When he’d come back, he hadn’t been any better off, he’d just been hurt. Kenneth knew there really WAS no ‘fixing’ what was wrong with him though. He couldn’t get better. He was a psychopath. He deserved to be hurt. He deserved to be held down and shocked. He deserved to have his head cut open and parts of his brain removed. Even though it wouldn’t make him better, it would at least keep him away from others.
“He’s not feeling well,” Bryce said. “C—Come on, Kenneth, I brought anti-nausea medicine. It will be okay…” He and Dwight led Kenneth down the aisle. Bryce wasn’t sure where to take him, but when they reached the door to the toilet, he said “E—Even if you can’t go, let’s get you a few minutes of quiet, okay?”
Dwight was shaking. He wanted to go into the restroom with Kenneth, to try again to get him relief from at least ONE of the things that was upsetting him so badly. But, Dwight wasn’t calm at all now. He couldn’t make Kenneth calm if he didn’t first feel that way himself. That man had said such horrid things, way worse than what Kenneth had said to the kid…
Bryce noticed how jittery Dwight was. “I’ll… Come on, Kenneth,” he said once more, taking him into the restroom. It was tiny, super cramped especially with two people inside it. He knew Kenneth got scared in tight spaces… “It’s okay,” Bryce told him. “Nice and quiet in here, just—“ He stopped abruptly, realizing that Kenneth had been silently crying, tears rolling down his face as he shook soundlessly. “Kenneth, it’s okay…” he repeated. “You’re under a lot of stress right now, I understand why you got angry…”
Kenneth didn’t respond.
“It’s alright…” Bryce gave him an awkward hug, wary of pushing boundaries again like he had on Christmas. Kenneth didn’t push him away, so he kept going, rubbing his twitching back, knotted with tension all down his spine. He wanted to try to get rid of at least a PIECE of it. “Okay, let’s try to pee,” he said.
“I can’t…” Kenneth croaked out. Most likely, when he went to the asylum, he wouldn’t have much privacy. He’d be monitored most of the time. He’d never be able to go. He didn’t deserve to be able to go.
“Shhh… You can,” Bryce encouraged. “You need to.”
“I— I NEED to go to an asylum,” Kenneth said.
“No,” Bryce said. “You don’t… We talked to Elizabeth about that, they try to help, but I don’t think they know what to do. Maybe one day they’ll figure it out, but right now—“
“I kn—know it won’t help me, but I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t be near people,” Kenneth said. “I should be locked up.”
“No, Kenneth…” Bryce said. “Dwight would be really sad if that happened… Come on, let’s see if you can pee now, okay?”
Sniffling, Kenneth unzipped himself and aimed. Nothing happened, but he didn’t feel any frustration or disappointment. He didn’t even feel any real increase in his desperation, either. He just felt dim acceptance. This was what happened. This was what always would happen. This was what he deserved. His punishment for turning into Father.
“I’m like him,” Kenneth said after a moment of Bryce trying to soothe tension from his shoulders.
“Hm?”
“I’m just like my Father.”
“You aren’t…” Bryce insisted. “If you were, you wouldn’t feel so bad right now.”
“I’m a psychopath.”
“You got mad because someone wouldn’t stop kicking you while you were desperate to pee,” Bryce said. “That doesn’t make you a psychopath, that makes you a human. It’s alright… Just let it out…” He kept stroking Kenneth’s neck, back and shoulders until finally a slow, dismal stream started to patter out. “There you go…” he said. “That’s good. Keep doing that.”
Kenneth pushed, trying to make it come out faster so that he might actually FEEL some relief, but it took several more seconds before he was able to manage that, then he started to shake in a much more contented manner. “Ahhhhh….”
“That’s better…” Bryce encouraged, feeling Kenneth going limp. He had to hold onto him a little tighter, worried that the release was making his legs go a little too weak to actually support himself. It felt weird gripping him so firmly, but not in a bad way. “All better…”
Kenneth allowed himself to get lost in the bliss of letting go, trying not to think about that man’s words, his angry outburst, his upcoming destination. He tried to think only of peeing, and of how good it felt to finally do it.
That worked, but when he was completely drained out a minute later, all the bad feelings came back. He zipped himself up and turned around to hug Bryce again, burying his face into the taller man’s chest.
Bryce kept holding him, stroking his back up and down. He knew he needed to stop. Dwight was probably already feeling some jealousy over the fact that Bryce had gotten Kenneth to pee instead of HIM. If he started cuddling with Kenneth, even if it was only because Kenneth BADLY needed comfort, Dwight would feel worse.
Kenneth pulled away a moment later, “Thank you…” he said.
Bryce stared at Kenneth’s chapped lips, which were raw and bitten thanks to his desperation. In spite of that, Bryce yearned to press his own lips against them. Even if just for a second, just so that Kenneth would know that there were two people in the world who loved him and didn’t think he deserved to be ‘locked up’.
Bryce didn’t, though. Kenneth belonged to Dwight, and Bryce… He loved Dwight, too. It was so confusing. He loved Kenneth, he loved Dwight, and he loved Elizabeth. He loved them all equally, and in a perfect world, they’d all be together. But, that wasn’t how it worked in real life. People didn’t do things like that.
Dwight took Kenneth’s wrist once they were out of the restroom. “Did you manage to go?”
“Yes,” Kenneth said.
Bryce waited for that jealous look to come over Dwight’s face, but it didn’t. Instead, he just looked relieved. “Good… Thank you, Bryce. I couldn’t have done it that time.”
They managed to find some vacant seats away from that man and his son, and the rest of the trip passed by calmly. When they arrived at the station closest to Kenneth and Dwight’s village, it was dark out. They still had quite a way left to walk, so they decided to wait until morning.
They checked into an inn in the closest town. There was just one room left available, and it only had a single bed. Bryce said “We’re all exhausted, two of us can just sleep on the floor,” and took the key.
But, assuming Kenneth and Dwight didn’t mind it, he thought it would be okay if they all shared the bed. They’d done it before, after all.
In their room, Bryce and Kenneth took turns relieving their bladders and showering. But, Dwight was so tired that he passed out almost immediately, laying in the center of the bed. Once Kenneth and Bryce were ready to go to sleep, Kenneth was the one to say it was alright if Bryce joined him and Dwight in the bed.
Kenneth climbed in and nuzzled up to Dwight, snuggling close. Bryce got in on Dwight’s other side. Hesitantly, he reached over Dwight’s body to squeeze Kenneth’s hand gently, and before long they were all asleep. |
Dwight wished he could remember what had led up to this. Even if these new regulations he was supposed to follow had apparently never been put up to a vote, he thought he should have been able to recall some kind of announcement about them.
But, he couldn’t.
He also couldn’t remember when The Leader had stepped down from his position, something he was certain should have been big news. Nor could he remember how in the world Karl, of all people, had taken his place.
Dwight did know that all of these things were true, he just lacked a memory of why. But, maybe he had a good reason to be suffering from a bout of amnesia— He was in so much pain that he could barely think.
“Smith,” a stiff, higher-ranking guard said as he glowered down at Dwight, staring straight at the feet Dwight was trying not to bounce. “I’m giving you one last warning, you are in violation of almost every public decency regulation.”
Dwight balled his hands into fists, clenching and un-clenching them at his sides. He managed to make his feet go still, and very nearly even got himself to uncurl from his hunched over posture. But, not quite, and before he knew it, one leg was inching atop the other. “S—Sir,” he pleaded, his expression filled with urgency. “I need—“
“You NEED to familiarize yourself with the law again,” the other guard cut him off. “Your Urination License was revoked.” He displayed the card he’d ripped from Dwight’s hand a moment ago.
“But, but, it’s not supposed to—“
“REVOKED,” the guard repeated. “Meaning GONE, FORBIDDEN. You’re not permitted to access ANY facilities in this country since your track-record of obeying the law has been so abysmal.”
Dwight’s whole body shook and his eyes began to burn painfully.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?! You’re an adult, don’t you dare cry— And stop crossing your god damned legs! Hey, you know what? You can just come with me.”
***
Dwight had little memory of the walk to the jailhouse. He knew it must have been very painful, going such a long distance with such a full bladder. It must have been so awful that he’d blocked it all out. Just, one second, that guard was shouting at him and, the next, he was being shoved through the door of the jailhouse.
Perhaps the main reason he blotted it out was because he was almost HAPPY when he got through the doorway. Kenneth was there, sitting behind a desk… But, gnawing the absolute FUCK out of his hands. He was desperate— Of course he was desperate, the regulations had been absolute Hell for him— but since most people didn’t realize that for Kenneth, hand-chewing was a SIGN of desperation, no matter how much he did it he never got in trouble for violating the rules.
“Sir,” Kenneth said to the unknown, superior guard. “What is happening now?” He bit down on his lip. Dwight could tell he wanted to say something different, wanted to demand the guard let Dwight go— In more ways than one.
“Paulson,” the other guard said. “Smith here was caught engaging in multiple violations of the law— Public displays of desperation being a big one.”
Dwight fought not to start stomping his feet and committing ANOTHER violation of that rule. He had to grind his teeth together to keep from vocalizing his need. That had been the toughest habit of his to break; Voicing aloud that he needed to pee had always been so helpful, but now it wasn’t allowed. He instead just kept screaming it inside his mind. ‘Gotta peeee! Need to peeeeeeee! Please, please, please, I wanna pee! Now!’
It didn’t help.
Kenneth wrote something down, his teeth sinking even more firmly into one of his knuckles. His eyes were big and watery as he looked at Dwight. Dwight wished he could go to him, wished he could hold him, cuddle him, the way they used to do before the regulations had barred them from having any contact.
“T—Take him through…” Kenneth managed, blinking hard, but not fast enough to stop one tear from going down his cheek.
The other guard started to drag Dwight to a door in the back of the room. “Stop your squirming!” He barked.
Dwight started to cry in earnest, “I can’t help it! I need to—“
“You don’t need to do jack shit, aside from holding yourself fucking still and going through that god damned door!” The guard snapped, forcing Dwight through the next doorway.
Suddenly, Dwight was in a small court-room, and already standing in front of the judge. Being shouted at like that must have upset him so much that it had clouded up his vision for the last couple minutes.
He must have already been here for a bit, too, because the judge already knew his name. “Smith,” he said. “If you don’t hold still, we won’t be able to continue with this trial. If I see your legs cross one more time, I swear…”
Dwight cringed, forced his legs apart, and felt an awful heat right at the base of his dick. Fuck, he couldn’t keep it in, not without at least SOMETHING to ease the pain… Maybe— Maybe Kenneth’s thing would work for him too this time! He stuffed a finger into his mouth and bit it. His sharp teeth digging into the skin hurt a lot, but the pain actually served as a distraction.
“Very well…” the judge said. “Now, what are the charges?”
The guard who’d brought Dwight here spoke next. “Smith is charged with attempted unlawful urination, public displays of desperation, and— STOP CROSSING YOUR FUCKING LEGS!”
“Smith!” The judge shouted. “You have consistently violated the law since you set foot inside this courtroom, keep it up and see what happens!”
Dwight tried to go still, managed it for the most part, but his body continued to violently vibrate from painful levels of tension. “C—Can I have a lawyer?”
“A lawyer?” The judge repeated with a laugh. “Where the Hell do you think you are right now? Defense Attorneys were made illegal when Grand King Emperor Lord Karl came to power three years ago!”
It had really been THAT long…? Why couldn’t Dwight remember—
“Now, can we continue with this trial?” The judge asked.
“We can continue once Smith STOPS bouncing up and down like that,” said the guard.
The judge banged his gavel several times, angrily. The sound was sharp and piercing enough that it nearly made Dwight pee. “Alright! Fine!” The judge snapped. “Clearly we can’t do this tonight. Maybe a night in the cell will sort him out!”
The next thing Dwight knew, he was locked into a tiny room. It was a bit like the holding cells they’d kept enemies in back when… Back when he’d worked with Kenneth and Bryce and Karl hadn’t been in charge of everybody. Except, this one didn’t have a bed— and it definitely didn’t have a toilet. Instead, it just housed a chair, with thick, tight straps that went right over the occupants lap— Directly over their bladder. There were gears in the floor, and every few minutes, those gears would move to yank the straps down even tighter.
It was Hell.
Dwight was supposed to stay here all night.
To make it worse, a massive bottle of water was hanging down from the ceiling— Similar in appearance to the ones used for pet rodents, except WAY bigger. The spout was positioned at-level with Dwight’s mouth, and if morning came and he hadn’t managed to finish it, it would be re-filled and he’d have until the next day to try again.
As Dwight forced himself to guzzle the water, he wriggled painfully in the confining chair, and let the tears roll down his cheeks every time the straps squeezed more sharply into his bladder. He tried to guess how much water was IN the bottle. Looking at it, it was at least as big as his entire body was— Maybe even bigger! He had no idea how it would be physically possible for him to fit it all into himself.
But, he didn’t have a choice other than to try. If he didn’t get it all down by morning, he wouldn’t even have a CHANCE to urinate for at least one more day. And, if he had an accident… What happened if he had an accident? He tried to remember…
Right… Right… The NEW rule, now that Karl ran the country, was if someone had an accident, then they got a plug shoved into themselves so that they could never, ever pee again. Dwight shuddered with fear and continued to drink. How in the world had he forgotten THAT?
At some point in the night, as Dwight sucked on the bottle, he was finally getting nothing more out of it. He’d drained the thing in time, and now it was all going through his body, all rushing down to a container that was already so, so painfully full… A moment later, he heard the sickening grind of the gears, felt the strap digging in more, felt his bladder sob.
He sobbed with it.
***
Dwight must have somehow managed to get to sleep, because all of the sudden he was back in front of the judge again, staring up at him blearily. His bladder must have been making him delirious, strange shapes were appearing in the corners of his vision, and when the judge spoke he sounded very, very far away.
“Smith,” the judge began. “I hope your time in the holding cell taught you a bit of a lesson. Are you ready to cooperate with us this morning?”
Dwight said nothing. The only thing he wanted to say was “Please, please let me use the toilet now, please!” But, such a phrase was against the law. He’d be sent back to the cell, strapped to the chair again, given another enormous water bottle to shove into his overburdened body.
“Now, of course, we’ve had to upgrade your charges, since yesterday’s behavior delayed court proceedings…” the judge continued. “Your charges are now attempted unlawful urination, public displays of desperation, and contempt of court…”
When Dwight looked down at himself, he was stunned by what he saw. His middle was swollen. It was BEYOND swollen. The hard, round lump in his core was bigger even than anything he’d ever seen in Kenneth’s abdomen! He looked like he had swallowed a volleyball…
“Now, how do you plead?” The judge asked him.
“N—Not guilty, due to… um… circumstances?” Dwight asked. He wished that he was allowed to have a lawyer… He had no idea what he was even doing! He thought what he’d just said SOUNDED lawyer-y though. Maybe it would work!
“Hmmm,” the judge said. “Guard?”
The guard from the previous day stepped forward. “Yesterday, it was reported that a man matching Smith’s description was publicly displaying signs that he desperately desired to relieve his bladder, and that he was using various inappropriate methods to assuage the discomfort. I went to check out the scene, and found Smith in the process of unzipping his pants beside a tree. His intentions were clear, and in obvious violation of the law.”
Dwight’s eyes watered again. If only that guard had taken a few extra minutes to show up, then Dwight could have used that tree, he could have freed himself from the Hell of his need…
“Later investigation showed that there were various attempts to pass off a revoked urination permit card at numerous male restrooms in the surrounding area.”
Dwight could sort of remember that now, too. He’d showed his card to a bunch of different shop owners, and they’d all told him it had been suspended and so he wasn’t allowed to go, but none of them had explained why…
The judge looked back at Dwight. “Did you squirm or hold your genitalia in public?”
“Y—Yes…”
“Did you attempt to relieve yourself onto a tree?”
“Yes…”
“And, when you attempted to gain access to urination facilities, were you informed that your permit had been revoked?”
“Yes.”
“So, what ‘circumstances’ lead you to believe you aren’t guilty?”
“I— I— When I tried to go on the tree… I hadn’t… I hadn’t peed in thr—three days…” Dwight sniveled, feeling every hour, every minute, every SECOND of that time weighing down on his aching, tortured urethra. “A—And I wasn’t told why my per—permit was revoked.”
“The reason is unimportant,” the judge said. “You should have gone through the proper process to acquire a new one, and then you would have received it within the next two-to-four months.”
Dwight’s bladder rolled inside of him, doing cartwheels, kicking all of his other organs and making him feel like he was about to vomit. He leaned forward, legs wobbling, trying to keep them from crossing. “Y—You can’t expect a person to— To hold it for months and not ev—even tell them why…”
“The guard you saw when you came in?” The judge asked. “His name’s Paulson.”
Dwight fought not to say that he knew that. Fought not to say that he loved that guard with all his heart. Fought not to say that he could have put up with everything, every last one of the new urination rules, if he’d just been allowed to keep Kenneth in his life.
“He hasn’t relieved himself in a year,” the judge said. “He was caught voiding into bottles in his private quarters, came in here and gave a pathetic sob story about how ‘can’t go’ in the public facilities since they are always monitored. His permit was immediately revoked for four years, and if he lets out even a drop before then, he’ll be plugged for the rest of his life. That’s why he’s working here, he’s trying to get his sentence reduced.”
Kenneth… Kenneth hadn’t peed in over a year? He still wasn’t going to for a few more? How was Kenneth even still alive? How was he able to handle just— just SITTING there all day, unable to do anything to control his need apart from biting his hands? The judge must have been lying, even if the REASON for Kenneth’s punishment sounded plausible.
“So, yes,” the judge said. “We DO expect people not to void for a few months if that’s how long it takes for their new permit to get approved. You aren’t special, you don’t deserve ‘special’ rights that no one else gets to have. Your ‘circumstances’ are not worth this court’s time.”
“But, but I should be allowed to—“
“Nope,” the judge said. “No one is just ‘allowed’ to urinate. What’s next? Are you going to insist you have a ‘right’ to food, shelter, or medical care? No, of course not. These things are meant to be earned, and you haven’t earned them.”
“But, it’s been four days, I—“
“Four days should be nothing to a man who’s in good health. If you cannot manage such a short hold, then I barely even know WHAT to say to you. Your entitlement is disgusting.”
“But— I’m— I’m not weak, it’s just— I need to go, please!”
“I don’t care what you think you ‘need’. And if you keep talking like that, your sentence is going to be worse, so I’d shut up if I were you. Or would you like to be plugged?”
Dwight went quiet, he tensed up his thighs. It felt like something inside of his body was slipping down… His leg started to twitch, and he nearly allowed to cross over the other one, he was just barely able to restrain the urge.
“Okay then,” the judge said. “Your sentence is as follows; You will be required to drink a minimum of ten liters of water per day, and you are now only allowed to void once a fortnight. But, these rules will only be put into place after you have served your sentence here in the jailhouse, which will consist of six months of retention. Releasing one drop of urine before the sentence is up will result in your fluid intake doubling and your voiding being limited to once per month. Any further infractions will earn you a plug and a permanent ban from urination for the remainder of your life.”
Dwight didn’t understand. The judge said all of that as if it were normal! As if it were physically possible! He couldn’t go two weeks without peeing, especially if he drank TEN liters of water every day! And… And now he was supposed to keep holding it for six more months, or else his punishment would be DOUBLED? He looked at the guard who’d brought him in. He TOO was behaving like all of that was just expected and okay.
How— How the fuck was he supposed to— He needed to go NOW, he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t peed his pants yet already! He wanted to go talk to Kenneth! Kenneth must have figured something out, because there was no WAY he’d seriously been holding it for an entire year, he wanted Kenneth, he wanted—
Suddenly, Dwight found himself inside another jail cell. This one was more normal looking. It had a bunk bed and a sink, but no toilet of course. He, again, couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here. He must have just freaked out so badly when he’d heard his sentence that he blacked out again.
Now, he was sitting on the lower bunk, gripping his crotch and flailing all over the place. At least, he was permitted to squirm and do anything else he had to do when he was in the cell, it was considered a ‘private space’, so the rules against public displays of desperation didn’t apply. He was free to jump around, grasp his dick, cross his legs, sob, and babble incomprehensible strings of desperate begging. “Please, please, please, I need to go nooowwwwww… I can’t wait, I can’t wait… I need to peeeeeee….”
From the other side of the cell, he heard Bryce’s voice. “Would you be quiet, Smith?” He hissed. “Listening to you doesn’t make it any easier on ME, you know!?”
Dwight jumped, and nearly let loose a spurt. He clamped his hand around his shaft painfully. If he let out even a drop, he’d be punished more… “Bryce?” He asked.
“Uh, yeah,” Bryce said, bobbing up and down, turning in circles and holding onto his dick with both hands. “We’ve been cellmates for three fucking days, idiot.”
O…kay… So, Dwight had already gone through three days of his sentence somehow. He’d just blacked them out. Thank goodness he hadn’t peed during that time! “Right… Right… I forgot because— Because I’m so—“
“I know…” Bryce grumbled. “And you have NO right to be— You only gotta wait six more months! They aren’t letting me go for ten more years!”
“Wh—What—“
“Yeah, halfway through my sentence now,” Bryce said.
What. The. Fuck. Bryce had ALREADY been holding it for ten god damned years?! From the size of the melon bloating out his abdomen, he looked like he might have been… But, he ALSO didn’t look ten years older from the last time Dwight had seen him. And… Wait… Hadn’t it ONLY been three years since the regulations were put in, anyway?!
Ughhhh, Dwight was so confused! And he just wanted to pee! He might be able to understand this stuff better if his middle didn’t hurt so badly!
There followed a whole lot of monotony. Dwight was led from his cell to a lunchroom three times every day. He wouldn’t be given any food, but for some reason he never got hungry, even as the days turned into weeks. He was only served huge bottles of water, most of them larger than his entire torso. He’d be forced to guzzle them all down fast. His bladder kept stretching, and becoming more painful, but somehow he didn’t ever spring a leak.
Eventually, the guards started to weigh him each morning and, in spite of the fact that he hadn’t eaten anything in over three months by then, he continued to gain weight. He knew all of the weight was just in his bladder, and it really scared him. He didn’t understand what was happening to his body, or how he was even still alive. Either the starvation should have killed him, or his bladder should have ruptured and murdered him by now.
During the fourth month, Dwight ceased to feel the severity of his need increasing. Which, he supposed, was how Kenneth and Bryce had been managing THEIR punishments. There was, apparently, just a point at which a bladder couldn’t FEEL any more full. It was still blazingly painful, and Dwight cried almost 24/7 from how much it hurt, but it had finally plateaued.
Partway through month five, Dwight realized that his sentence had passed a whole lot faster than he’d thought it would. He actually couldn’t remember most of it, just brief flashes of being forced to drink huge quantities of water, being weighed, and watching his bladder bulge grow. It was like the last few months had gone by in just the blink of an eye.
Near the end of the sixth month, Dwight was forced into the holding cell again for his final test. If he could handle another night in there, AND drink the enormous, human-sized water bottle again, he would be allowed to have his first pee in half a year. He was determined to do it, overcome by fantasies of how good it was going to feel to finally let it all out.
He sat down in the chair, and it was tricky for the guards to tie the straps around him this time, because he’d swelled up to such a ridiculous degree. When the belts were finally in place, the gears turned immediately and tightened them down over Dwight’s body. He whimpered and kicked his legs out, coiled them together, since that was all he could do to quell the urge. He was amazed that his pee dance maneuvers were still working, but they WERE; He still hadn’t let out a single drop in all this time!
He set to work chugging the water, reminding himself again and again that, if he got it down, he’d finally be able to let it all out…
He thought he managed to finish this bottle off a little faster than he’d handled the first one six months ago. All the guzzling he’d been forced to do in jail must have trained his throat muscles or something, because he was done with the massive bottle in what must have been just five minutes!
Except… Now he had to make it through the night. Just one more, awful, awful night. And nights went by slowly when a person had nothing to do. And even MORE slowly when that person had nothing to think about apart from a really, REALLY full bladder— and the fact that emptiness was at last on its way…
Dwight began to hear the sound of a dripping faucet, but was unable to figure out WHERE it was coming from. The noise drove him crazy anyway, made him shake and shudder in the chair. He was sweating profusely, his hair limply clinging to his forehead. The throbbing, burning, wailing pain was all consuming, encompassing his entire body, worse than anything he’d ever felt before in his life.
Finally, his back started to hurt. The awful, fiery scorch that Kenneth had so often sobbed to him about in the past. It was actually even WORSE than the ache in his bladder, making Dwight’s tears flow faster and faster. He hoped that at least some of his tears were actually piss finding an alternate route of escape from the Hell of his body.
His stomach hurt badly too. He was glad he hadn’t been fed in half a year, since it meant he had nothing to vomit out. Unless, maybe the piss was filling his stomach now too. And, maybe it was. Every nook and cranny inside of him was probably being flooded by his ocean of hot, boiling pee, all of it trying to blast out past his exhausted sphincters, shoot out his urethra and turn him into a human fire-hose.
Everything hurt… Everything hurt… He just wanted to go… Please, please, just let him—
The door to the cell opened, and two guards stepped in. “What do you know, he’s still dry!” One of them said.
“You owe me a coffee now,” the other said.
Dwight shut his eyes against the mention of liquid. It didn’t FEEL like he’d been in here for an entire night already, but he wasn’t going to protest. He was going to get to pee now, right? Please, please let him pee now… He needed a toilet, a urinal, a bowl… ANYTHING.
They released him from the chair, helped him to his feet, and told him they were taking him to a urination facility now. For the first time, Dwight DIDN’T black out as he was moved to a new location. As a result, he was forced to feel every horrific contraction that accompanied each step of his feet.
Luckily, the walk wasn’t that far, however. They’d brought him to a door beside all the jail cells, which he somehow hadn’t noticed in the months before. Good thing, too, because it was very, VERY clearly marked as a men’s restroom. It had a blue stick-figure, and below it was a super detailed diagram of a bladder emptying, which made Dwight hold onto his dick even tighter.
The guards opened the door and ushered him in. Inside, there was just a single toilet in the middle of a huge room. He was scrambling for it, but the guards ordered him to stop, reminding him that after a prison sentence, the first pee needed to be closely monitored.
Of course… How could he have forgotten that part!
Well, he didn’t mind…
“Stand beside the toilet,” the first guard told him.
Dwight did, bouncing in place and stomping his feet against the floor.
“Lift the lid.”
Dwight obeyed, the first drop of his burden finally leaking out at the sight of the open bowl.
“Pants down.”
Dwight was too desperate to hesitate. He didn’t even blush that hard as he unzipped his pants and pulled them down to his knees.
“Sit. But don’t go yet.”
Dwight lowered himself onto the toilet seat, stunned by how ridiculously comfortable it felt beneath him. Too comfortable… He was almost peeing… “Nnnnnhhhhh….”
“Request permission.”
“M—May I please go pee now?” Dwight begged. He was dying. He had never needed to go so much before. Being on the toilet just made it hurt so, so bad… “Please?”
“Yes.”
Before the word had even finished passing through the guard’s lips, it was swallowed up by what sounded like the most massive thunder storm to ever happen on planet Earth. There was no slow build up to Dwight’s release, it was coming out at full strength the instant it was finally allowed to exit his body. Dwight couldn’t help it, he moaned orgasmically, even louder and more intensely than Kenneth ever had! “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….!!!!!”
Relief… Beautiful, glorious relief at long, long last…. It felt so good… So good… So warm… So cozy…
Dwight snuggled against his pillow, pulling the blanket up more, and—
Dwight woke up, still basking in the warmth, in the relief, in the beautiful, beautiful looseness of his emptying bladder…
It took him a few seconds to put together that that was actually a PROBLEM. He was pissing like crazy, and it felt absolutely fucking amazing, but he was ALSO currently laying in bed. He was laying in bed with Kenneth to his left and… And Bryce on his right…
To make it worse, Dwight was FACING to the right, so a lot of the urine blasting from his spout was soaking into the back of Bryce’s pajamas.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! The consequences NOW were going to be even worse than the ones in his dream had been! Bryce was going to skin him alive, rip off his legs, and beat him to death with them! Dwight tried and tried to STOP going, even though SO much damage had already been done. But, he couldn’t, he couldn’t cork up his opening, couldn’t even restrain the flood back down to a dribble. It just kept coming and coming, drenching everything, and Dwight was paralyzed by the panic.
After another minute of uncontrollable, heavy spraying, Dwight was done. Weighed down by dismay, he struggled to sit up and assess the damage. His pants were absolutely soaked through, clinging stickily to his thighs. The blanket wasn’t much better off. The sheet below him was a mess. Bryce’s entire backside was coated in liquid, and some of it had managed to flow over to Kenneth’s side of the bed and get HIM pretty damp, too.
God dammit! He remembered what Kenneth had said the LAST time he’d gone through a bed-wetting phase, telling him NOT to pee if something felt too strange about his surroundings. And absolutely EVERYTHING about that dream had felt strange! The weird regulations, the unusual way time moved, the fact that he and everyone around him was going months or years on-end without peeing, all the little contradictions that kept cropping up… IN the dream he’d KNOWN those things were all weird yet, when he was told to sit down on the toilet and pee, he’d done it without a moment’s consideration. Nope, all he’d thought was ‘Oh, yay! I can pee now! Ahhh, that’s better!’
And now he’d drenched himself, the bed, Bryce, and Kenneth!
What… What could he do now? Kenneth didn’t usually get than angry over this, but Bryce…? No way would Bryce be alright with it. Dwight half wondered if, maybe, he could manage to change Bryce out of his wet pajamas and put new ones on him without waking him up. That could prevent Bryce from finding out, right?!
But, Bryce WOULD wake up. And he’d be WAY more upset if he woke to find Dwight trying to STRIP him immediately after he’d coated him in urine.
Ooooh, or maybe he could put Bryce’s hand in warm water, then Bryce would think it was just his OWN pee, and—
Then he’d be mad because Dwight had put his hand in warm water. Probably even ANGRIER since wetting the bed was an accident, but pranking someone else was a choice.
Dwight was just going to have to lay there and wait for Bryce to get up and punish him. Unless all the piss somehow magically evaporated before morning came.
Dwight couldn’t get back to sleep that night. He was so uncomfortable laying in his own bodily fluids, and the fear of the reactions that were sure to come didn’t help.
Eventually, Kenneth and Bryce woke up. Kenneth’s nose crinkled as the smell hit him. “Dwight,” he said groggily. “Did you—“ His eyes flickered wide open as he recalled what had happened last night. He lowered his voice to a whispering hiss “N—Not tonight… Please, tell me—“
Dwight was tearing up, “I didn’t mean to!” He said.
“Shh… Shhh…” Kenneth hugged him close, rubbed his back. “I know you didn’t… It’s—“
“Wha— What’s…” Bryce’s voice muttered out. “Why’m I all…”
“I’m sorry!” Dwight cried. “I— I had to go bad last night, and then I just fell asleep while Kenneth was— I’m sorry!”
Bryce blinked up at him blearily for several seconds, and then he figured it out. “Smith! Oh my God!” He sprang out of the bed and began to strip his shirt from his body. “Gross, gross, gross! If you piss the bed, you could have at least WARNED me!”
“I—It hadn’t happened in a long time! I thought it was—“
Bryce pealed the sodden pants down his legs, cringing hard. “Fucking Hell… How much did you— You soaked through all the way down to my boxers!” He turned. “And look at the bed, and you— You got Paulson wet, too?! How did you even…”
Kenneth had spun around the instant Bryce had started disrobing, and now called over his shoulder to him. “He didn’t mean to do this!”
“I— I get that!” Bryce said. “Nobody INTENDS to piss the bed, but if you’re gonna sleep WITH somebody—“
“I really thought I’d gotten past this!” Dwight protested. “It’s been months since the last time!”
“Only MONTHS?” Bryce repeated, he grabbed some clean clothes and stormed into the restroom, slamming the door closed.
Kenneth glared at the locked door. “Asshole…”
Dwight sighed, “He actually reacted a little better than I’d expecte—“
Kenneth paced up and down the length of the room. “And now he’s gone and locked himself in there when I haven’t yet… Done certain things that I need to do when I wake up…”
“…Oh,” Dwight said. “If… If you pee yourself, it won’t even be obvious since I already got your crotch all—“
“Dwight, please…” Kenneth interrupted, spinning around and tapping his feet harshly. “I know you’re trying to make me laugh, but if I laugh BEFORE I’ve had a turn in that room, it will not end well.”
Dwight went quiet. He’d just been trying to make this all less awkward, and joking around was generally how he accomplished that… “I’m… I’m really, really sorry. I was having this— This nightmare where Karl was in charge of the country. He put in all these rules about peeing, and we also weren’t allowed to talk to each other anymore for some reason.”
Kenneth frowned. THAT part sounded terrifying…
“And, I got arrested because I tried to pee on a tree, which was illegal in my dream. You were at the jailhouse, and they said you hadn’t peed in a year, and Bryce hadn’t peed in ten years… Then they didn’t let ME pee for six months, but then they finally let me, and—“
“Dwight,” Kenneth interrupted. “When you were LAST having trouble with bedwetting, what did I tell you?”
Dwight lowered his head shamefully. “That, if I’m about to go pee and something really weird is going on, I should pinch myself to make sure I’m awake first…”
“Yes, did you forget tha—“
“I—It’s not like I’m ever completely in control of what I do in a dream!” Dwight said. “I— I kept thinking the stuff was strange, but I never figured it out! I’m sorry!”
“I— I guess that IS true,” Kenneth admitted. “It’s not like I can always make myself wake up when I dream about Father…”
Bryce emerged from the restroom, now wearing nice, DRY clothes. “Smith, I would like to talk t—“ He was interrupted when Kenneth suddenly bolted past him and into the restroom. He heard the door slam and lock, some rustling, and then a bit of hissing and a LOT of sighing. “…Alright then… Guess I took his turn, huh?”
“Yeah…”
“I apologize for yelling at you,” Bryce said. “It’s just not a very pleasant surprise to wake up covered in piss, trust me. And especially not someone ELSE’S.
Dwight turned that over in his mind. “Trust y— Bryce, do you wet the bed, too?”
“NO!” Bryce snapped, enraged once more. “Of course I don’t!” With a huff, he turned away from Dwight. “But… I…USED to. When I was a kid. Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“Okay, so it wasn’t like I just didn’t wake up in time,” Bryce explained. “But, my parents and I— We sorta lived in this huge, SUPER old place. I think it maybe used to be a castle, or something. I swear it was built back when the Plague was still going around. And, my room was at one end of this real long, narrow hallway, and the restroom was ALL the way at the other end. And, during the day, I didn’t mind the corridor that much. It was kind of tight, but that was fine. At night though, when it was DARK, and I already REALLY can’t see when it’s dark…”
“Were you scared to go down the hall?”
“I— Um— Maybe a little!” Bryce said. “O—Or maybe I just didn’t feel like taking such a long walk, or—“ He groaned. “Okay, fine. I was scared of how it looked at night. And, if I woke up wanting to use the toilet, then I’d sort of… Peek out my door, and maybe make it a few steps before a shadow or a creak made me go back. Then I’d try to go back to sleep and hold it until morning. Sometimes I DIDN’T hold it until morning…”
“Heh… Awwww… That’s almost kind of—“
“I—It’s not cute!” Bryce protested.
“It is,” Dwight said. “Poor little Bryce…”
Bryce grumbled to himself. “If you EVER tell Paulson, I swear to God…”
“I won’t,” Dwight said.
“Tell me what?” Kenneth asked, coming out of the restroom.
“NOTHING!” Bryce barked. “I order you to forget about—“
“Oh, did Bryce pee the bed once, too?” Kenneth guessed.
“NO!” Bryce yelled. “I’ve never peed the bed in my life, and I’m never GOING to!” |
The walk to his home village was an hour long, but Kenneth wished it had been even longer. It was as though cold, ghostly hands wrapped themselves around each of his limbs the closer he got to it. When, suddenly he was back inside of it, something weird was happening in his body. It felt like his hand was being squeezed tightly in someone’s fist. It thundered, pounding so hard that it hurt, slamming around in the prison of his chest.
Dwight took his hand and squeezed it upon noticing his shakes and shortness of breath. “You okay…?”
“I’m as okay as I can be,” Kenneth managed to say. This place hadn’t changed a bit since he’d left it. As far as he could see, everything looked the same. No new buildings, no fresh coats of paint. It was still the same drab, dilapidated place in which he’d grown up, doubtless populated by the same people he’d walked by as a child. People who surely must have assumed something was wrong, when he always appeared so sallow and battered. They must have known. They all must have known.
They did nothing.
In fact, a lot of them did worse than nothing. Father’s lie about bravely trying to save Mother from an armed burglar had cast him as a hero. And that was exactly how some people around here viewed him. He was a poor, unfortunate man who’d tried his best to rescue his wife from an unknown attacker, and then was left on his own to bring up a child.
But, people must have noticed.
They DID notice.
There was a day where Father had been preparing to lock him inside the box again. Kenneth barely even fit into it by that point. His legs had to bend in a way that felt unnatural, like his joints were being moved out of place, his arms too. The thought of spending another several days confined in that cramped, dark place, unable to move any of his limbs, had sent a shockwave of terror through him. And, he did something he’d never done before, he tried to escape the house before Father could enact the punishment.
For a second it seemed like he might get away. Though he was weak and mutilated, he ran really fast, powered by the terror growing steadily in his heart. Father didn’t try to stop him until he’d reached the front door and yanked it open. The bright light of the sun had engulfed the room, and he was going to escape.
Hope had surged inside of him for the briefest of moments, he flung himself through the door and onto the porch before collapsing down the front steps. Father was on him in an instant. Kenneth screamed, thrashing madly against Father’s tight hold. Kenneth saw windows opening in other houses, front doors as well. Neighbors stepping out to stare at the spectacle. Kenneth shouted and begged for help, as Father yanked him back inside.
“Help!” Kenneth begged at the top of his voice, wishing that just ONE of the on-lookers would do something. Even if they just SAID anything, any acknowledgement that they saw what was happening and knew it was wrong.
He didn’t even receive THAT much. Just more gawking. He swore one of the on-lookers was even smiling, like he was just a silly child who didn’t want to sit in time-out, or something. Like, his ghostly white complexion wasn’t there, like he wasn’t covered in bruises from his forehead down to his toes. Like, the terror in his eyes wasn’t real.
Father slammed the door shut as soon as they were through it. “You stupid fuck!” Father shouted, tossing Kenneth to the ground and beginning to wail on him. “You’re just gonna run away? After all I’ve done for you!” His fists kept crashing down, over and over. Kenneth couldn’t even tell where they were landing, because his entire body already hurt so badly. “What was that?! You— You fucking humiliated me! Out there, screeching like a psychopath in front of everyone! What is WRONG with you?!”
Minutes later, Kenneth was being shoved into the box prison he already knew so well.
He was left in it for three days. No toilet breaks, but no water either, so in the end it didn’t matter so much. He couldn’t move at all. At one point, he felt gravity changing suddenly, then like the world had fallen out from under him, before a brutal slam shook the walls of his cell. Pain erupted all through one of his sides, and Kenneth knew he’d just been thrown against a wall.
When he was let out, he couldn’t stand up properly. He walked with a hunch for the next few weeks. Some of the neighbors who’d witnessed him being dragged inside that day also later got to see his awkward, stooped walk. He noticed them staring. They said nothing.
No one ever said anything.
No one ever did anything.
Now, Kenneth walked with his head down. He was scared of what he would do if he saw someone that he recognized. He pictured himself grabbing them, shaking them and just screaming, demanding to know what it was that had made them think he was so worthless.
What if he found Ann, and it turned out she was one of those people?
Dwight squeezed his hand again. “H—Hang on,” he said.
“Where do we start looking?” Bryce asked.
Kenneth shrugged. “Sh—She was at the church a lot,” he said. “Maybe there.”
“Alright,” Dwight said. “That’s where we’ll go.” He was struggling to think of how to get there, though. He remembered exactly where it was, in a place this small it was hard to get lost. But, to get to it, there weren’t any routes that would allow them to bypass one particular street. He was about to suggest they check a different location first, but the only thing he could think of was to return to the orphanage where he’d been raised, ask the nuns if they had ever known Ann.
And, to get to the orphanage, they’d still have to go down that same street.
“Kenneth, you remember where the church is, right?” Dwight asked.
“Y—Yeah, I’m…” Kenneth nibbled his lip, still staring down at his feet. “I’m g—good with directions.” He tried to smile. “I can tell left from right, unlike you.”
Dwight attempted a smile as well. “And… To get there, we have to…”
“I know…” Kenneth said. “Maybe… Maybe they tore it down. By the time I— By the time I left, it was falling apart…”
Bryce had a good idea of what the ‘it’ Kenneth was referring to may have been. “Paulson— Kenneth… You don’t have to do this. Dwight and I, we can look for Ann. You go back to the inn, we’ll find h—“
“No,” Kenneth shook his head. “I want to meet her… If… If my Mother loved her, then that has to mean there were SOME people in this town that weren’t monsters.”
Bryce nodded. “But, if you can’t do this—“
“I have to,” Kenneth said.
They walked on. They passed the main street, where all the shops were. Kenneth tried not to look at them. He remembered some of the shopkeepers, he remembered seeing them act all friendly with his Father, he’d seen them trying not to glance in his direction as he timidly stood at the man’s side. They didn’t care, and they had to actively TRY not to care, to pretend that they didn’t notice.
One of the doors opened, and a man stepped out. A man Kenneth recognized. He could recall that he’d caught Kenneth trying to steal a glass bottle of juice after not being given any water for two days. Father had apologized to him, explaining that Kenneth’s behavior had been out of control, and that he only responded to a certain kind of discipline. “Oh, I understand,” the man had agreed, shaking Father’s hand. “Kids can be little terrors at that age.”
It took everything in his power not to literally growl at that man now.
“Hey,” the shopkeeper waved to him, smiling. He was fucking smiling, like he hadn’t knowingly stood beside Kenneth’s abuser every week, treating him like he was his best friend. “I remember you, you were Francis’s kid, right?”
Kenneth flinched at the sound of his Father’s name. “Yes…” he said. He wanted to keep moving, but he felt like he was stuck.
“I was surprised you left town,” the shopkeeper said. “Most people born here end up staying their whole lives.”
His jaw set, Kenneth said; “I needed a change of scenery.”
“I understand,” the shopkeeper nodded, just like he had the day Kenneth had tried to steal the juice. “After your Father… Did what he did, I’d want to leave too.”
Kenneth felt even more frozen up. So, he knew PRECISELY why Kenneth hadn’t wanted to stay here. Why did he even BOTHER—
“Do you think you knew… I mean, were there any signs before it happened?” The shopkeeper asked. “A lot of us were surprised when we heard, but I guess he did start drinking more after he lost his— Well, after what happened with your Mother.”
Oh. He was referring to Father’s ‘suicide’. Kenneth was relieved to learn everyone apparently believed that that HAD been his cause of death. The day Kenneth had shot his Father, he’d painstakingly searched through Father’s journals until he found an entry that sounded appropriately depressed. With the melancholic page scrawled out in Father’s handwriting left near the body, and the gun carefully rested beneath his hand, it would be easiest for everyone to assume he’d shot himself.
Kenneth tried to imagine how he SHOULD react in this situation. If, like he wanted everyone to believe, he’d gone out to spend time with his best friend and returned home to find his Father had ended his own life, leaving behind nothing but a vague note. “I… Wish I had noticed the signs,” he said. “Maybe I could have talked him out of it.”
“Oh, don’t blame yourself,” the shopkeeper said. “Sometimes these things happen.” His smile disappearing, he looked directly into Kenneth’s eyes as he continued; “Sometimes, we wish we could go back and do something differently, but all we can do is accept that it’s too late to change it.”
Kenneth tried not to meet his gaze. “I don’t have any regrets about how I left this place— If I had the chance, I’d do the same thing over again.”
The shopkeeper stared at him for a second, then he gave a slight, barely perceptible nod of his head. He was about to head back into his store when he stopped himself. “You want to know something? Your Father had this… I don’t know what you’d call it, an aura, I guess. It was very cold. When he came into the store, it was always like the temperature dropped a few degrees. Whatever happened to— Whatever made him do what he did, you’re probably better off forgetting him.”
‘You knew,’ Kenneth thought as he watched the shopkeeper retreat back inside. ‘You knew, and I hope YOU never forget. If you ever get another chance, you’d better stay true to your word and actually do something differently.’
They kept walking. “Did you know that guy very well?” Bryce asked.
Kenneth shook his head. “No. But, he knew Father. Everyone here knew Father. And… I look like him. I REALLY look like him. If my hair was black, I’d basically be his clone. People are going to recognize me.”
Bryce wanted to grab Kenneth’s hand, but even Dwight had let go of him now that they were more likely to be seen. He hoped Kenneth didn’t see his Father staring back at him whenever he looked in a mirror.
When they passed the bar Father had frequented— The place his parents had met— Kenneth picked up the pace. He half-expected Father to actually be inside the thing, logic and the rules of human mortality be damned.
A group of three men were on their way in, but one of them stopped abruptly and nudged his companions. “I think that’s—“
Another of the men called over, “Are you Francis’s son?”
Kenneth ignored them.
“Hey!” The man shouted. “Wait up—“
Kenneth made himself stop and turn to face the group. “What?” He demanded. He’d never met Father’s bar friends, but judging by how old these guys looked, he assumed that was who they were.
“I’m Steve,” one of the men said. “These are Wayne and Ralph. We used to—“
“You drank with my Father,” Kenneth finished.
“More like he drank next to us and we tried to pretend he wasn’t there,” Ralph said. “Or, we’d try to piss him off so he’d leave. No offense, but your dad was a dick once he had enough to drink.”
“He’s dead now, you know,” Kenneth wasn’t sure why he was informing them of that. There was no way they DIDN’T already know, and it wasn’t like he cared if they honored his memory or not.
“Yeah,” Wayne said. “We know. And… Uh…”
“We kinda always hoped we’d see you at the bar someday,” Steve said.
“I don’t drink,” Kenneth said. “And I left town right after my Father died.”
“Yeah, we kinda figured you were gone ‘cause we stopped seeing you,” Steve said. “But… Well, the only reason we wanted to see you is we… Sort of want to apologize.”
“What?”
“Gotta be honest,” Steve said. “We couldn’t stand your Father. He was always starting fights over stupid shit and ruining everyone’s fun. We came here to relax, he came here to be obnoxious. And, no one would ever say anything because he was going through a hard time after that thing with your Mom.”
“So,” Wayne said. “We kept trying to get him to screw off, by just messing with him. And, he’d leave us alone if we made him feel embarrassed, and… We sort of…”
“We… Saw you playing with your friend sometimes,” Ralph said. “And we saw that it made Francis uncomfortable that you were so close, so… We’d say stuff to him about it. We said things about you that were— Well, there’s no way around it, we were assholes. We were a lot younger then, but we were still assholes. And we’ve always felt bad about it.”
“Oh…” Kenneth said. “Father told me some of the stuff you said, it made him…”
“We’re sorry,” Steve promised. “We all really regret it, I’d take back everything I said if I could.”
Kenneth lowered his voice. Again, he wasn’t sure why he was doing this. He didn’t have to worry about Father punishing him for acknowledging their shared, ‘open secret’ anymore. “Did you know what Father was doing to me at home?”
“You looked kinda bashed up a lot of the time,” Ralph said. “Was that because of him?”
“Yes,” Kenneth said. “And… And every time he went out to drink, and you said stuff like that to him, he came home and he did it even worse than usual.”
The three men fell quiet.
“We… Didn’t mean for that to happen…” Steve said.
“Well, it did,” Kenneth said. “If… If you noticed I was being hurt, why didn’t you do anything?” He felt like he was going to cry all of the sudden. This question had been on his mind for most of his life, and now that he was finally in a position to get an answer, he couldn’t hold in his feelings.
None of the three responded, and an awkward silence gripped the group.
“Well…” Steve said. “Uh…”
“I thought maybe Francis was hurting you, but then I thought maybe you just fell or something,” Wayne offered. “I didn’t want to say anything, and then it turns out nothing was going on.”
“I was worried about what Francis would do,” Ralph said. “He was… Really awful whenever he came to the bar, if he got in trouble and he found out I was the one that said something…”
“I… I honestly…” Steve struggled. “I just… I thought someone else would do it…”
None of the answers were particularly satisfying, but they were still answers. Kenneth didn’t think there WERE any good answers to a question like this. “Well…” he said. “Sorry you had to put up with my Father.” He wasn’t really. At least they’d had the ability to just leave the bar whenever they wanted to. Kenneth had never had such a luxury.
“Sounds like your Dad didn’t have many friends,” Bryce said as they walked off.
“He didn’t deserve any,” Kenneth said, biting back against a hitch in his throat.
“Kenneth, are you okay?” Dwight asked.
“I’m… I’m fine… It’s just… Everyone’s suddenly SO sorry NOW,” Kenneth heaved out a heavy breath. “Now that it barely even MATTERS.”
“It does matter,” Dwight said gently. “I think, if these folks ever see anything like that happening again, they’ll try to fix it.”
They passed by the jailhouse. Kenneth tried his best not to look at IT, either. The police had spoken to Father ONE time regarding Kenneth, and the memory of that was one of the worst Kenneth had.
Finally, they had to turn onto a new street.
Dwight started to walk a little faster, but he didn’t know why. No matter how quickly they went past these homes, Kenneth still knew exactly where they were.
Besides, Kenneth had already frozen completely. He stood ramrod straight, staring at one of the buildings. His fingers twitched at his sides, and his face was paling. His expression didn’t convey any emotion at all, Dwight swore his eyes had suddenly dulled.
“Paulson,” Bryce said, noticing Kenneth dithering. “The church IS this way, righ—“
Dwight held a hand up. “Bryce, this is… This WAS Kenneth’s Father’s house.”
Bryce now looked more closely at the building that Kenneth was staring at so intently. It looked like a perfectly ordinary home, nothing sinister about it. It was almost hard to believe anything evil had ever taken place within it, but Bryce knew that it had.
The last time Kenneth had seen that house, he’d noticed how worn and lifeless the grass had become and how overgrown and unkempt all of the bushes were. Among the other houses on the street, the gloomy, run-down place had looked bizarre. The area around it had smelled awful, too. The steps that led up to the front door were all worn down so much that nothing remained apart from bare, moldy bits of wood. The walls had been coated in dark yellow and brown stains that were the result of Father’s constant smoking.
Today, the smell was gone. The bushes had been tended to. The steps had been replaced. The walls had been given a fresh coat of paint. But, in spite of all the polish, it still looked gloomy to him. It looked haunted. No matter how neat the bushes looked, how shiny the steps were, or how cleanly it was painted, it would always look like a prison. It just had an aura about it, one that iced Kenneth’s bones, as if the house itself was trying to tell him that he wasn’t welcome here.
Since the house was being taken care of, that meant someone new must have been living inside it. Kenneth tried to picture that; A normal family spending their days doing normal things, pacing through the rooms that had once been torture chambers, completely unaware of what this place used to be.
The hall closet, which had served as Kenneth’s ‘bedroom’, was probably now full of clothes. The owners not realizing that a child had once needed to cry himself to sleep there every night, trying to warm himself as he laid on the floor without the comfort of a blanket or pillow. The hallway where his Mother had been killed was walked through several times a day by people who had no idea they were stepping through the sight of a murder.
The new owners probably couldn’t feel the sinister aura of that building like Kenneth could. They didn’t know that this was an evil place, filled with the ghosts of screams. They couldn’t smell the odor of terror that Kenneth was sure had seeped into every crevice. They couldn’t—
“Hi-hi!” Said a small voice. “Are you a soldier?”
Kenneth jumped, startled. He looked down to see a little girl beside him. She was staring up at him with a wide smile. “Um—“
“Iris,” another, much deeper voice called from a little further down the road. “Don’t talk to strangers.”
“But, he’s a soldier, Daddy!” The little girl said. “That means he’s a good guy.”
Kenneth didn’t think he qualified as a ‘good guy’. His temper was too volatile for that. He yelled at people, he scared children…
Iris wasn’t scared of him, though.
Dwight crouched down a little and waved at her. “Hi there,” he said. “Yes, we’re all soldiers. But, your dad’s right, you shouldn’t talk to people you’ve never met before.”
“How’m I supposed to meet new people to talk to, then?” Iris asked. “If I never talk to anybody, then everyone’s a stranger.”
Her father caught up and took her hand. “Sorry about that,” he said.
“It’s fine,” Bryce assured.
Kenneth looked at the girl’s father. He didn’t recognize him at all, he must have been a new arrival. He wondered who would actually CHOOSE to move here. He glanced back at Father’s house. Even if it belonged to somebody else, it would always be Father’s house…
“Haven’t seen you guys around here,” the man said. “Nice to meet you, I’m Lucas. I doubt the military is sending you on a mission here, so are you moving in, or—“
“These two used to live here,” Bryce filled in, pointing to Kenneth and Dwight. “Back when they were kids. We’re trying to find this person they used to know. Do you know anyone named Ann?”
“Ann…?” Lucas repeated. “Nope, I’m afraid I’ve never met an Ann. But, we haven’t been here for that long, we just might not know her yet.” He smiled, continuing to exude a friendly air that felt completely out of place around Father’s house. “So, what part of town did you grow up in?”
Dwight shuffled uncomfortably. He didn’t like talking about how he’d been orphaned, how he didn’t actually KNOW where he’d come from. Sometimes, people treated him differently once they found that out.
Kenneth wasn’t eager to say where HE’D been brought up, either, but to save Dwight the trouble, he admitted it. “Um… Right here…” he said.
“This house?” Lucas’s smile widened. “Ah, I see why you were staring at it, then. Must bring back a lot of memories.”
Kenneth glanced away. It did, but they were all memories he wished he could erase.
“Mister soldier,” Iris said. “Did you ever find the secret room?”
Kenneth looked down at her. He shrugged, unsure what she was talking about.
“You didn’t?” Iris gathered. “It’s fun! It’s my clubhouse now! Daddy! I wanna show Mister Solider the secret room!” She grabbed Kenneth’s hand. “I’m gonna show you all my drawings!”
“Alright,” Lucas said. “You guys look kind of tired, you want to have lunch with us?”
“Uhhh…” Bryce glanced at Kenneth. He was so pale that he looked almost translucent. Even his lips had turned white.
Dwight was staring at his friend as well. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Kenneth shake that much before. “Well, we wouldn’t want to impose…”
“Nonsense,” Lucas said. “We don’t mind at all. Especially if one of you grew up right here!”
And that was how Kenneth found himself re-entering his childhood home for the first time since the day he’d ended his Father’s rancid life. The sound of the front door opening was just like any other front door, but it sent a shiver down his spine. When it was shut behind them a second later, Kenneth felt his heart drop down to his knees. He heard the bolt moving into place, trapping him here. Trapping him in Hell, forever.
It took a second for his foggy vision to clear enough for him to look around. He didn’t WANT to look around, but he did anyway. The interior had not changed as much as the exterior had. Same wallpaper, just patched over in a few places. He spotted light stains in the wooden flooring, likely imperceptible to the new occupants, but Kenneth knew the darker brown tinges were from where his blood had once dried and seeped into the floorboards. Against his will, a high pitched whimper bubbled in his throat.
“Hm?” Lucas asked.
“N—Nothing!” Kenneth squeaked. He tried not to look at the hall-closet, now most likely full of shoes and coats and NORMAL closet things. In the past, that had been his ‘bedroom’.
They reached the living room, and Kenneth started to shake even harder.
“Sue’s getting lunch ready,” Lucas gestured towards the kitchen. “So, I’ll give you guys a tour— I guess one of you doesn’t really need that, but—“
“I wanna show him my clubhouse!” Iris whined.
“Okay, okay…” Lucas said. “Go show him, then.”
Iris took Kenneth’s wrist and started to drag him off.
***
Dwight had never actually BEEN in Kenneth’s old home before. He’d visited it only once, and had just gotten a quick glimpse at the front hallway after he’d knocked on the door. Kenneth’s Father had answered, and Dwight asked if Kenneth could come out to play.
Kenneth’s Father had just frowned and stated “Kenneth doesn’t have any friends,” before slamming the door in Dwight’s face.
Now, the house looked pretty normal. It was hard to imagine what had once taken place inside it, but then Dwight started to notice little details, there were odd stains in the lower parts of the wallpaper, some scuff marks and indents in the floor that hadn’t been repaired. Signs that something violent had happened in here once before.
Bryce didn’t notice any of those things, but he felt that the house had a weird atmosphere. He doubted he would have noticed it if he hadn’t already heard the stories from Kenneth, but the rooms all felt colder than he’d expected them to.
***
When Iris started to lead him through Father’s old study Kenneth realized he DID know what the ‘secret room’ was. In the back of Father’s old study, there was a false bookcase that was actually a door. He should have KNOWN that was the ‘secret room’, because in a NORMAL house, that’s what it WOULD have been.
But, when this had been Father’s house, that room had just been another of Kenneth’s prison cells, Father’s go-to once he was too big for the box. The room was very small, and when Kenneth had been little, it had contained nothing but a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling and a pole that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Father had gotten a leash meant for dogs, and he’d wrap one end of it around the pole, then put the other around Kenneth’s ankle, so that when he was locked in there he didn’t even have the luxury of being able to move around the entire cell.
Kenneth had almost died in that room, Father leaving him there without water for so long that he’d actually started to hallucinate, hearing and seeing things that weren’t there.
If he had his way, that room would be pumped full of concrete and sealed off forever.
It wasn’t supposed to be anyone’s ‘clubhouse’.
Iris reached for the fake-book case and swung it open “Ta-da!” She cried, gesturing proudly to what had once been Kenneth’s personal Hell.
Kenneth stayed where he was.
“Come on!” Iris said, reaching for his hand again and tugging him forwards. He had to fight NOT to struggle, not to freak out, to instead pretend like everything was fine, and he didn’t mind playing inside a torture chamber with this kid. Like, this room WASN’T a torture chamber, because he knew that it wasn’t one to her. She’d be scared if she knew what the room actually was. She’d be terrified, and it would be his fault.
Inside, the room had changed a little. There was still a lightbulb swinging from the ceiling, and the pole was still there. But, the pole had been covered in stickers, and the wall was decorated with tons of Iris’s crayon drawings.
“Secret room!” Iris proclaimed proudly. She shut the door and Kenneth’s breathing immediately went into rapid-fire mode, his chest heaving and his vision blurring as he huffed through his mouth and nose.
“Huh…?” Iris asked. “Mister Soldier, do you have… Do you have Asthma, like Daddy?”
“N—No,” Kenneth said, reaching for the door. “Can we… Please, just keep the door open, okay? I need… I just really need it to be open.”
Iris shrugged, “Well… Okay!” She grabbed onto the pole and started to wriggle her way up it. “I’m gonna pretend I’m a fireman! Did you ever do that— Oh, right, you never found this room…”
“I… I did find it,” Kenneth confessed. “But, I didn’t ever play here. This used to be my Father’s study. I… Uh… I wasn’t supposed to play in it.”
“Aw,” Iris frowned, sliding back down. “Do you like my pictures?”
Kenneth looked them over. Seeing the walls plastered over with something new kind of helped him forget where he was, but then he noticed the little scratches in the floorboards that he’d made when he’d gotten delirious and thought that he could somehow dig his way to freedom. He wondered if Iris had ever noticed them.
“You’re not looking!” Iris pouted. “What’s on the floor,” she knelt down beside him and stared. “Oh, there’s claw marks… Did your family have a puppy when you lived here? I want a puppy, but Daddy won’t let me.”
Kenneth shook his head, continuing to stare. Gently, he laid his hand against the marks, curling his nails and trying to fit them directly into the minuscule scuffs he’d made so long ago.
“Let’s pretend we’re puppies!” Iris decided, getting onto all fours and rubbing her fingertips against the ground, like a dog asking to be let out.
Like… Like Kenneth begging for—
“STOP!” Kenneth blurted out.
Iris did, but she frowned. “What’s the matter?”
“Sorry, sorry…” Kenneth said, sitting up more. “I’m— I just— I’m sorry, I— Uh— I can’t— I can’t be in here, I’m sorry.” He stood and walked out of the room, but now he was in Father’s study, where the man had stayed up drinking so many nights, sometimes screaming for Kenneth to come in just so he could beat him for whatever nonsensical reason he’d been able to conjure.
Iris followed him. “Mister Soldier, are you scared of something?”
“Huh?” He turned and looked down at her. “No, I— I just… I’m thirsty. REALLY thirsty.” That wasn’t a lie, being in that room… Remembering the FOUR days he’d been made to go without a drink in there, how he’d nearly died… His throat hurt, it burned. He needed water, he needed it now, he was going to die—
“Okay,” Iris said.
He followed her dully into the kitchen. With shaking hands, he grabbed a glass and began to fill it with water from the sink. He spilled some of it trying to get it into his mouth, and had swallowed the rest in under a minute. He quickly re-filled the glass and did the same thing again. Repeat.
“You ARE thirsty,” Iris said. “Is it ‘cause they make you do those marches so much?”
“Y—Yeah,” Kenneth said, once he was at last able to pull himself away from the sink. “That’s… That’s it…” His shakes were dying down, but he was still— He was still fucking HERE, and he needed to be ANYWHERE else.
Dwight came to his side and, without thinking, he immediately leaned into him, hugging him tightly.
Dwight didn’t push him away, even though Iris was still there. She was too young to think anything of it, he hoped. He just rubbed Kenneth’s back and whispered to him, “It’s okay. I’m here… And HE’S not… Nothing can hurt you, it’s just a building…”
“Are you married?” Iris blurted.
Dwight and Kenneth backed away from each other. “What?” Dwight asked.
“Mommy and Daddy hug like that because they’re married. So, are you married?”
Dwight shook his head, forcing a laugh. “No, we’re just friends,” he said. “Me and Kenneth, and the other soldier Bryce, we’re all friends.”
“Oh,” Iris said. “Okay. Wanna see my bedroom?”
“Uh—“
A woman, most likely Lucas’s wife Sue, poked her head into the kitchen and informed them that lunch was ready in the dining room.
Kenneth followed Iris that way, and his eyes immediately became fixated on part of the dining room’s wall. Lucas was beside it, talking to Bryce, gesturing to the gash. The gash that was STILL there, from the time Father had thrown him so hard into the wall that he’d damaged it. Father had been so furious with him for that, and had started to kick him around on the floor, screaming, shouting, calling him every awful name he could think of.
And it was STILL there, just as obvious as the day it had been made—
“I’ve been wanting to patch this part up,” Lucas was saying. “Not sure how to do it, or what happened h—“ He turned. “Oh, Kenneth, do you remember what happened to this bit of the wall?”
“Wha— I—“ Kenneth stammered. “I don’t— I don’t kn— I— I have to— I need to lea— I really have to go to the bathroom, sorry. I’ll be right back!” He hurried from the room, down the hall and into the restroom. When he shakily latched the door’s lock into place, he was met with the unfortunate realization that his excuse to leave hadn’t been much of an excuse. He actually DID really need to use the bathroom. Suddenly, he felt like he was going to pee his pants if he didn’t have his zipper down in the next three seconds.
His hands flew to his crotch for a tight squeeze and he hobbled in front of the toilet, the same one Father had always— Had always stood behind him at while he tried to use, screaming at him, pulling his hair, all before beating him for his failure to conjure up the stream he needed so badly to let loose.
He unzipped his pants and aimed. His bladder convulsed sharply, and— And for some reason he felt more desperate to piss than he could ever recall feeling in his life. He felt like he was being stretched wide open, his skin tearing as his bladder ripped through it. He felt like piss was going to start gushing out his ears, flowing from his nostrils, streaming from his eyes, pushing itself through every opening it could find in him.
But, it DIDN’T gush out through the one hole it actually COULD move through. It wouldn’t come out at all, and he— It HURT, he needed to go so badly that it HURT, and he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to beg, just BEG—
“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” He heard Father’s voice. He physically HEARD his voice, just as clearly as if the man was actually THERE beside him. “Stop whining to me about needing to piss when you OBVIOUSLY don’t have to go!”
‘I do,’ Kenneth thought, shuddering miserably as his opening burned. ‘Please, I can’t take it…’
He couldn’t go. Everything hurt so bad. His bladder was spasming out of control, his length ached, his urethra felt like it had been rubbed with salt and lemon juice. His lungs were collapsing, his head throbbed, his vision blurred, and the wallpaper in front of him was the very same pattern he’d stared at every time Father had screamed at him to piss.
Kenneth could hear Father counting down now. “If you don’t start pissing in the next five seconds, I’m going to make sure you can’t sit down for the next month! Five… Four…”
Kenneth ticked off the final three seconds in his head, then forced himself to tuck his dick back into his pants and zip them. He still needed to pee unfathomably badly, the walls of his bladder seeming to contract and squeeze in. The sudden urge that had slammed into him just minutes before already felt like it was going to turn into an accident But, he knew that if he tried to use the toilet again, the same thing would happen. He’d just hold it, like always. He didn’t have a choice.
He left the restroom on stiff, shaking legs, trying very hard to strain his thighs in such a way that his opening remained pinched closed between them. His need wasn’t quite as agonizing now that he’d left the bathroom, but it was still very prominent and annoying. He found everyone still in the dining room, eating. Iris was talking to Dwight now, but when she saw Kenneth she waved to him.
Kenneth just sat down beside Dwight and didn’t move, apart from using the cover the table provided to hold his crotch. His heart just wouldn’t settle down, and now he was worried about where he WOULD go to pee once he finally got out of here. Obviously, he couldn’t relieve himself in this house, he needed to be somewhere that he actually felt comfortable. Did such a place even exist in this town?
The orphanage…
Yeah, the only time he’d ever felt safe as a child was when he was with Dwight. So, the orphanage where Dwight had lived had been safe too. They had to go THERE as soon as possible…
“Mister Soldier?” Iris said, and Kenneth tried to make himself listen to her. He didn’t mean to ignore her, everything was just… Too much.
“I finished eating, can you play with me more?”
Kenneth didn’t want to… He didn’t want to let her drag him through more awful rooms in this awful house.
“I wanna show you my room,” Iris said. “It used to be yours, right?”
Kenneth said nothing, just stood and followed after her.
Iris’s room HAD once been Kenneth’s, up until the death of his Mother, anyway. After that, Father took it away, he had Kenneth sleep underneath the dining room table instead. But, that only lasted about a month, then Father decided Kenneth was unworthy of sleeping somewhere Father would have to SEE him, so he was banished to the hall closet. Father had left this bedroom empty, he mainly used it as just another place to beat Kenneth in, taking advantage of all the vacant space to freely bash him around.
It was weird to see actual furniture in here.
“Are you cold?” Iris asked. “Why are you shaking?”
Kenneth didn’t know if his shivers were from how raw his emotions were, or from how awful his need to pee was. He noticed he’d crossed his legs, but didn’t bother untangling them. He needed to allow SOMETHING to give himself a bit of comfort.
Iris sat down at a small, child-sized desk, starting to color. “Do you want to draw with me?”
Kenneth shrugged.
“You’re quiet,” Iris remarked. “Are you shy?”
Another shrug. Kenneth supposed he was kind of shy. One part of his body sure was, anyway. And it was adding to his current misery. He made himself crouch down beside Iris and immediately regretted it when his bladder sent a sharp, painfully hot twinge through him. His brow creasing and his eyes squeezing closed, he was unable to stop his hands from going to his crotch.
“You have to go pee again…?”
“It’s— It’s noth— Nothing,” Kenneth insisted. “I just— I’m going to have to leave soon, I—“
“Is it ‘cause of me?”
“No,” Kenneth said. “It’s— It’s… It’s just this house, okay?” He knew she wouldn’t understand it, but he couldn’t think through anything he was saying anymore. His brain felt mushy, overwhelmed by caustic emotions and a brutal need to relieve himself.
Iris suddenly looked frightened. “Is it haunted?” She asked. “I told Daddy I heard noises in the hallway at night, and he wouldn’t believe me! You have to tell him!”
Kenneth shook his head. This house absolutely WAS haunted to him, but not in the way she was thinking. “It’s not… There aren’t any ghosts, don’t worry. Just… A long time ago… A… A very bad man lived here.” He didn’t know what he was doing, he shouldn’t be talking about this to her— To any member of her family. They didn’t need to know they were living in the lair of a monster.
“Was he evil? Like, a wicked witch?”
“He— He was evil,” Kenneth said. He wriggled, trying to sit more comfortably on the floor. He’d gotten his hands out from between his thighs, but now he had to lean backwards to give his bladder some room, legs crossed in front of him. “A male witch is called a warlock, and… Yeah, a warlock used to live here.”
Iris looked more frightened. “Does he still—“
“No,” Kenneth said. “He’s gone now. But, um… The warlock had a prisoner. And he put lots of curses on his prisoner, so that even though he’s gone now, his prisoner still can’t be free.”
“That’s sad…” Iris said. “Is the prisoner still here?”
Kenneth paused. “K—Kind of…” He looked around. “He left, but… But, sometimes it feels like he never did.”
“I wanna hear the story,” Iris told him.
Kenneth didn’t meet her gaze, he instead glanced down at his own body, all the knots it was tied into. He’d grabbed at himself again, and now he couldn’t let go. But, talking was taking his mind off of the horrid ache in his bladder, and helping his heart-rate calm down a little too.
“O—Okay… Well, at the beginning of the story… There was… Um… There was a princess. She was the nicest princess to ever live, she cared about ev—everyone and only ever wanted to do the right thing. The princess’s best friend was… Er, a servant girl. They did everything together. But, the princess’s mom was a really evil queen with nothing but ice in her heart. The queen didn’t want the princess and the servant to be friends, so she forbid them from talking and sent the princess to the warlock.
“The warlock… Um… He… Uh…. He gave the princess a potion, and the potion made her have a baby. And, because she had a baby, the queen decided she needed to stay with the warlock forever. The princess loved her baby, and that made the warlock angry, because he hated babies. He eventually… Locked the princess in a dungeon, so that she and the baby couldn’t see each other anymore. The baby became the warlock’s prisoner.
“The warlock cast a bunch of spells on his prisoner. The spells hurt a lot, but there was nothing the prisoner could do to make it stop. He cried a lot, but no one ever came. Until… Until, one day, a brave knight heard the prisoner crying and tried to free him. But, the knight couldn’t do it. The prisoner had to help. So, the prisoner took… uh… He took the warlock’s magic wand, and zapped him away. But, even after that, none of the spells he’d put on his prisoner were broken.
“The prisoner went to go live with the knight, and the knight keeps trying to break all of the spells. But, it’s really hard because the knight doesn’t know any magic, so the curses are always kind of there… The knight makes the prisoner very happy, though, and they can have lots of fun together even though one of them still hurts sometimes.”
“What about the princess?” Iris asked. “Is she still in the dungeon?”
Kenneth hesitated. “I… I think so…” he said. “Um… Before she got locked up, she wrote a spell of her own that would set her free. But, only the servant girl that had been her friend can cast it, and no one knows where the servant went, so she needs to be found before the princess can be free.”
“Oh…” Iris said. “I thought fairy tales were supposed to have happy endings?”
“This one doesn’t…”
“Were you the prisoner?”
“I think I still am,” Kenneth said. He sat up more, flinching as his bladder churned and reminded him of its fullness. “Like, you can tell I have to go to the bathroom really bad?”
Iris giggled, and Kenneth tried not to blush.
“Well, I can’t because of one of the spells from the warlock,” Kenneth explained. “Sometimes the knight can break that spell, but I have to be in the right place, or it doesn’t work. And… You see how much I’m shaking? That’s because, this is where all the spells were cast, so they’re more powerful here than anywhere else. I can feel myself being hurt again, even though the warlock is gone.”
“So, my house is scary for you?”
“Yeah,” Kenneth admitted. “Lots of bad things happened in it. I don’t have many good memories here.”
“You have some, though?”
“Yeah, I guess…” Kenneth said.
“What’s one?”
“There used to be a piano,” Kenneth explained. “My Mother— The princess in the story, she was really good at playing it. I liked to sit on her lap while she did that. That was nice.” He fidgeted, crossing his legs around in the other direction.
“Does the curse mean you can’t go into the bathroom here?”
Kenneth shook his head. “No, the curse is… It’s hard to explain. When people who aren’t cursed go to pee, they get to the toilet and it just… Happens, right? But, because of the curse, I have to try really hard. It doesn’t come out.”
“Does it hurt?”
Kenneth nodded. “Sometimes… It’s one of the ones that still hurts the most. The knight should be able to help me break it again today if we go to the place where he grew up.”
“Which one of your soldier friends is the knight?”
“Dwight— The one with the dark red hair. Bryce, the other one, kind of is too, I guess. They should be finished eating soon, so I’ll be okay.”
“You’re leaving soon?” Iris gathered, frowning. “Will you come back?”
Kenneth doubted it. He had no intention of ever returning to this town once his task was complete, especially not to this house. “We’ll see… But, could you make me a promise?”
“What?”
“Well… A couple promises, actually,” Kenneth said. “First, I want you to keep decorating your clubhouse, alright? I want you to put up lots more stickers and drawings, and anything else you can think of to make it look nice. Can you keep doing that, even when you start getting older?”
“Okay.”
“Also… Um…” Kenneth felt like he was going to cry again, and tried to stop himself from doing so. “I think the house is sad because of all the bad things the warlock did inside it. Pretty much all it has are painful memories. Do you think you and your family can make lots of new, happy memories here?”
“Yeah,” Iris said. “We have fun here.”
“Good,” Kenneth nodded.
A few minutes later, Dwight and Bryce appeared in the doorway. “Kenneth…” Dwight said gently. “Ready to go?”
Kenneth sprang up like a rubber-band and hurried to Dwight’s side. The sudden movement really annoyed his bladder, waking it back up and causing a surge of heat to begin working its way down his length. He tensed his thighs and prevented the leak from ebbing out, but he really had to get to a usable toilet soon. “Yes!” He said.
“Alright…” Dwight said. “Come on…” He worked to get Kenneth out the front door as quickly as he could, allowing Bryce to handle all the ‘goodbyes’ to Iris and her parents.
Once outside, and after a few more paces down the street, Kenneth blurted out “I want to relieve myself soon, okay?”
Dwight nibbled his lip. He’d been worried that Kenneth’s earlier exclamation about ‘really needing the bathroom’ hadn’t just been an excuse. “Uhhh… Okay…” he said, turning around a few times, trying to think of ANY place where Kenneth might be able to go.
“Think you can do it at the church when we get there?” Bryce asked.
Kenneth shook his head, “I—It will be easiest if we go to the orphanage…” he admitted. “I felt comfortable there when I was little.”
“That’s where we’ll go then,” Bryce said.
The orphanage wasn’t far away. Kenneth could recall hurriedly running there many times as a child, desperate to be beside the one person that could make him feel safe. On a good day, it only took him ten minutes to get from his house to the orphanage.
On a bad day, where something was impeding his ability to walk, it could take longer. That could be anything from an injury, to exhaustion, to the need to relieve himself, like now. The heaviness of his bladder was slowing him down quite a bit. His toes pointed inwards, and his knees shook. He had to take very careful, very slow little steps.
“Hey,” Dwight said. “A few times when we were little, if it was an emergency, I’d keep watch for you while you went behind a building, is that—“
Kenneth shook his head, “N—Not… It won’t work now.”
He sounded so certain of it that Dwight didn’t press. Kenneth was in such a fragile state that he was worried if being back at a ‘safe’ place would even do him much good.
They made it to the orphanage, and Dwight awkwardly knocked on the door. He realized now that it would look odd for them all to show up here unannounced just to pee. Of course, he had intended to ask them about Ann too, but from all the squirming Kenneth was doing, it was obvious which would have to happen first.
The door was opened a moment later. Thankfully, Dwight recognized the woman on the other side, Sister Isabelle was one of the nuns who’d been present when he was a child. She recognized him as well, “Dwight,” she said, smiling. “Nice to see you back in town— And you’ve brought friends. What brings you here?”
Dwight stepped inside first. Like Kenneth, he was hit by a flood of memories as soon as he’d entered his childhood dwelling. But, unlike Kenneth, a great many of them were actually pleasant. Yes, he’d been picked on a lot for being small, and he’d often suffered hunger from the poor food supply, but he’d never felt unsafe here. Just very lonely. And that had changed after he’d met Kenneth.
Even just being in the entryway, Dwight could recall lots of things he’d done with Kenneth here. He remembered racing around the place with him, he remembered playing tic-tac-toe with him on the floor, he remembered drawing with him. Mostly, he remembered just talking to Kenneth, sometimes late into the night, like they still did today.
He hoped Kenneth remembered those things now, too.
“Kenneth, is that you?” Isabelle asked.
“Y—Yeah,” Kenneth nodded, trying not to fidget under her gaze. He was too embarrassed to immediately ask her for the toilet. It would be rude to do that anyway. Etiquette dictated that he wait until he was offered use of the restroom.
She was looking all over his body now, making him sweat. Part of him wanted to start crossing his legs again, to make it obvious that he needed to go so that she’d ask. But, the rest was far too humiliated by the idea of making his situation so blatant. He resorted to just pushing his knees and thighs together as hard as he could.
“… You look well,” Isabelle said finally, and there was a slackness to her facial features that hadn’t been there before. “How have you been? I want you to—“
“He needs to use the restroom,” Dwight interrupted. “That’s part of why we’re h—“
“Dwight…” Kenneth whined, reddening.
“Oh, of course you may go,” Isabelle said. “The children are all playing out back, so it should be empty.”
Dwight relaxed a bit. The bathroom being occupied or, worse, blocked by one of the horrendous lines he could recall from childhood, was one of the things he’d been worried about.
Kenneth remembered exactly where the toilet was here and, upon locking the door to the room, his bladder was already spasming and attempting to loosen itself. He had to grab his crotch to stem an approaching leak. His body was behaving exactly how it did when he got back to his restroom at the end of a long day, it recognized he was somewhere safe and was trying to get ahead of him, not giving him the time to unzip before it emptied.
Kenneth lost a couple little dribbles before he could aim at the toilet, but once he was in the right spot everything happened automatically. He didn’t have to fight and try to get himself to pee, his bladder was cooperating— Just like it always had when he was a kid and standing in this spot.
When he was a kid, Dwight was always on the other side of the door, reassuring him that he was the ONLY one there, and that he wouldn’t be in trouble for peeing. Kenneth would feel okay, he’d feel comfortable. No one was screaming at him, no one was pulling his hair. He knew that, once he left this room, no new tortures would await him outside. He’d just get to stay with his friend for as long as he could.
He’d be calm, relaxed. And he wouldn’t hate himself. He wouldn’t feel like anything was horribly wrong with him.
He had all the same feelings now, warmth, safety and security.
Kenneth finished peeing and went back down the stairs, Dwight and Bryce were still there with Isabelle.
“We wanted to wait for you to get back before we asked,” Bryce said. “In case you wanted to be the one to do it.”
“Alright…” Kenneth said. Hopeful, he turned to Isabelle. “I’m trying to find a friend of my Mother’s. I can’t really remember what she looked like, I think she had brown hair, but that’s it. Her name was Ann. Do you know her?”
Isabelle thought for a second, then shook her head. “I’m sorry…”
“It’s okay,” Kenneth said, he turned away. “Dwight, if you want to catch up with her for a minute, we don’t have to leave right away.”
“Hang on,” Isabelle said. “Kenneth… I want you to know something.”
Kenneth looked back at her, “Hm?”
“It’s… When you came over to play with Dwight… We noticed. Not right away, but when every day you always had a new bruise, or Dwight would tell us something unusual about your home-life, or one of us would see your Father behaving strangely in public… We knew something was wrong.”
Dwight could remember telling the nuns about Kenneth. At that time, he was so young that he didn’t realize that what he was saying would set off alarm-bells in any reasonable adult. He’d just been repeating things Kenneth had said to him, things that he thought were weird or confusing. “My friend Kenneth’s only allowed to drink water if his Dad says so.” “Kenneth said his Dad kicked him out for tonight even though it’s raining so much. Can he stay here just this once?” “Kenneth sleeps in a closet, even though there’s an empty bedroom! Isn’t that strange? None of the kids here sleep in closets, and it’s way more crowded here!” “Kenneth isn’t supposed to go pee without permission. We don’t have rules like that here, right? He wants to make sure so that he doesn’t get in trouble.”
“We noticed,” Sister Isabelle repeated. “All of us, it broke our hearts to see you so hurt and frightened of everything. No child should be as timid as you were… I want you to know that we saw, and that we tried to help.”
Kenneth nodded. The nuns had helped in little ways. Whenever he visited, they’d offer him hugs, water, warm blankets… If he had any bad injuries, they’d assist him with bandaging them up. They had done things to help, but Kenneth had always needed to go back to Father in the end. The nuns couldn’t prevent that from—
“Kenneth, do you remember a police officer ever going to your house to speak to your Father?”
Kenneth DID remember that, it had been one of the worst days of his life. It had started with Father ordering him to put on an expensive looking, fancy sweater before dragging him to the front hall.
There, he’d seen a police officer, and he’d felt so relieved. The police were there to help people and get rid of bad guys. Kenneth needed help, and his Father was a REALLY bad guy. That meant the officer was going to take Father away and make it so that he could never hurt Kenneth ever again.
But, that wasn’t what happened.
Instead, Father talked the officer. Father had described how he’d been ‘heartbroken’ over the sudden loss of his wife— taken from him by an armed ‘burglar’— that he’d allowed his drinking to get out of hand. He’d said that, thanks to his alcoholism and depression, he hadn’t been giving Kenneth the ‘attention’ he needed, which was why Kenneth had felt the need to concoct a wild story about being mistreated in order to garner attention from others.
Kenneth had been really disturbed by the ease with which Father lied to the officer, and even more so by the way the officer seemed to be believing every word of it! Eventually, the officer said he needed a minute to talk to Kenneth alone, so Father had reluctantly left.
Right away, Kenneth started to plead with the officer to listen to him, that Father was lying, that Father did horrible things to him, that he was scared Father might kill him. He’d rolled up the too-long sleeves of the sweater, he’d shown all the deep bruises and cuts that littered his arms.
But, the officer didn’t listen to any of it. He pointed out that Kenneth’s sweater was very expensive, and probably worth more than all of his own daughter’s clothing put together. He told Kenneth that he sounded like a spoiled brat, that he could tell Father was doing the best he could to care for him, and the least he could do is stop making up stories.
That was one of the first times Kenneth had felt that snap of rage light up his chest. It horrified him and pained him, and he’d started to cry hot, angry tears. “No, it’s not like that! He locks me up in a—“
“Sounds like you’re grounded.”
“No, you have to understand, he’s made me—“
“Yeah, I make my daughter do chores too,” the officer interrupted.
He’d refused to let Kenneth speak, to let Kenneth finish explaining that Father liked to lock him up in a tiny box that he barely fit into, or chain him to a pole, or that Father sometimes forced him to drink salt-water. The officer had already taken Father’s side, he wouldn’t even HEAR anything to the contrary. He didn’t care what Kenneth had to say. What Kenneth had to say didn’t matter. The truth didn’t matter.
Father came back shortly after.
“Sorry to trouble you,” the officer told him. “It’s as I thought.”
They’d continued to talk for a few more minutes as Kenneth stood in stunned, angry terror, tears rolling down his face. He couldn’t understand what was happening, and began to question if what Father was doing to him was actually normal, if he actually deserved all of it…
By the time Father was escorting the officer out the door, they were both laughing. But, the second the officer was gone, Father’s mirth vanished. He spun around to glare at Kenneth before declaring, in a spitting, hissing fury; “Now, you’re going to learn what ‘abuse’ actually is.”
What followed was the worst beating Kenneth would ever receive. By the end of it, he’d lost three teeth, could barely see out of his swollen eyes, and was in so much pain that he couldn’t even find the strength to crawl away.
“I do remember,” Kenneth told Isabelle now. “It… My Father was really mad.”
Isabelle frowned, “I’m sure he was… We were devastated when we learned the police had ‘looked into it’ and ‘found no cause for concern’. We didn’t know what else to do then…”
“It was you who sent the police?” Kenneth asked.
“One of us, yes,” Isabelle said. “It wasn’t me. It was Sister Beth. She was the most shaken up when the police failed to rescue you. I’d never seen anyone cry that hard before in my life. You meant a lot to her, I think because you helped Dwight come out of his shell a little. That’s why I don’t want you to leave yet. Sister Beth is out at the moment, and I want her to see you.”
Kenneth hesitated. He didn’t want to spend TOO much time here if it wasn’t going to get him closer to finding Ann. But, going to the police was the most ANY adult had ever done to help him as a child, even if it hadn’t worked. The fact that someone had TRIED, had cared enough TO try, made him want to see her.
He tried to remember which one Sister Beth was. He thought she was probably the one who’d given him a special quilt one year for Christmas. He had left it here at the orphanage, since he knew Father would take it from him if he left it at home. But, any time he got to sleep over with Dwight, he’d be able to warm himself with the quilt.
He still had it in the barrack with him now.
“It makes sense Beth would be the one to do that,” Dwight said. “She was the one who kind of liked to take-charge.”
“You remember her?” Bryce asked.
“Of course I do,” Dwight said. “I remember all of them, they were the closest thing I had to parents.”
Bryce shrugged, “I guess I just have trouble telling them apart, since they’re all dressed the same and all…”
“WE’RE all dressed the same, too,” Dwight pointed out.
“Oh, yeah…”
“I think I kind of remember her, too,” Kenneth said. “I just wasn’t as close to any of them as Dwight was.”
It took some time for Sister Beth to arrive. Kenneth started to grow a bit antsy. He knew it had been a bit of wishful thinking to hope he’d find Ann today— To hope he’d find her at ALL— But, he really didn’t want to stand around here and NOT keep looking for her.
He still needed to see Beth, though. Apart from Mother, Beth was the only one who’d ever REALLY tried to stop his Father. Even if it hadn’t worked, the fact that someone had TRIED meant the world to him.
The kids started to come inside eventually. Kenneth awkwardly tried to stand out of their ways. He knew they probably had adult visitors all the time, people looking to adopt one of the children, and he didn’t want any of them to get their hopes up.
Dwight watched the kids run in and scamper around the main floor. They were wearing the same sorts of clothes he’d had as a kid— Which had looked old-fashioned even then. He assumed the kids today had received the very same garments Dwight and the boys he’d grown up with had worn.
He felt weird seeing this new generation of parentless children. There were fewer in this bunch than there had been in the one he’d been part of. When Dwight was very young, there had been a terrible fever that ravaged this entire region of the country, and a harsh storm that destroyed the crops and caused many people to lose their livelihoods. Lots of kids those days lost both of their parents to the disease. Or, like Dwight, were given up as babies because their parents didn’t have the means to care for them.
There hadn’t been a sickness or a storm like that in a very long time, so not as many kids had lost their parents.
These kids all appeared happy, but Dwight knew that, like him, some of them probably stayed up at night wondering who their parents had even been. Others cried for the families that had been taken from them. And they all hoped to join a new family someday.
When Dwight was small, that had been his biggest dream; That a nice couple would adopt him and he’d have a family. It had never come true. Other boys were picked and taken home, but Dwight wasn’t one of them. He was never sure what it was that made him less appealing than the others, he worried that he may have been ugly, or that his voice was annoying.
His desire for adoption started to wane after he’d met Kenneth. He actually dreaded the idea that someone would bring him home, because what if they took him somewhere really far away from Kenneth?
Dwight hadn’t wanted to leave his family.
As he watched the kids play, an odd thought occurred to him; He could give one of THESE children a home, be the father he’d never had. He quickly dismissed the idea. The law was that only married couples could adopt, and Dwight didn’t want to be with anyone but Kenneth.
They would never be able to marry. The very notion of it was preposterous.
The door opened again, and a woman stepped inside. Dwight recognized her and waved, “Sister Beth,” he said. “Do you remember me?”
“Dwight?” Beth asked.
Dwight nodded, “Yeah. Kenneth and I are back in town for a while,” he gestured. “And this is our friend, Bryce. He came with us.”
“Hi,” Bryce said.
“We are trying to find someone who was important to my Mother,” Kenneth explained. “But, Sister Isabelle told me that, when I was little, you… Uh… You tried… To…”
“Let’s go upstairs,” Beth suggested.
Kenneth followed her there. It was a bit quieter, and Kenneth felt less like he was being put on the spot without any eyes on them. “Sister Isabelle says you were the one who tried to get the police to stop my Father, is that right?”
“Yes,” Beth confirmed. “I’m so sorry that it didn’t work.”
“It’s— It’s not your fault,” Kenneth assured. “I’m just glad someone TRIED. Thank you.”
An awkward silence hovered over them then. Kenneth had an urge to wave goodbye and leave, to continue his search, but he… Wasn’t ready to leave the side of the one adult who’d tried so keep him safe as a kid.
The one adult other than his Mother, anyway.
“So, you’re here because of Ramona, you said?”
Kenneth perked up at the sound of his Mother’s name. “You knew my Mother?”
“Yes,” Sister Beth nodded. “I did know her once.”
“Were you friends?”
“Yes. Your Mother was an amazing person. She could hear a song once, and immediately be able to play it the next time she was sat in front of a piano. It was stunning. The first time I talked to her… She was very soft-spoken, she seemed afraid of her own voice. It was like her music was the only sound she could allow herself to make. But, we became… Friends. Very good friends. When I found out she had—“ Beth sucked in a breath, like it still pained her to this day. Kenneth knew the feeling… “When I found out she’d passed on, I’d felt like a piece of me had gone with her. I so wanted to attend her funeral, but her mother wouldn’t allow it.”
Kenneth nodded solemnly. There had barely been ANY guests at Mother’s funeral. Just him, Father and her Mother. Kenneth had been the only one there to cry, and THAT had made him sob harder. It hurt to see that Father didn’t shed any tears for her. After what he’d done, he couldn’t even be bothered to mourn her.
That was also the first and only time he ever saw his Grandma, his Mother’s Mother. He didn’t say a word to her, and she didn’t say a word to him. She’d only granted him the briefest of acknowledgements while speaking to his Father; “So, THIS is the ‘mistake’, I see?”
Kenneth hadn’t WANTED to speak to her, anyway. Her attitude was callous and cold, and something about her seemed just… Off. Kenneth wasn’t sure what, she just gave him a bad feeling, a twisting in his gut. When she failed to show any emotion at her own daughter’s funeral, Kenneth knew he was right not to trust her.
“I wish you had come,” Kenneth told Beth. Mother deserved to have had more people who actually CARED by her side as she was laid to rest.
“Kenneth… “ Beth trailed off, her mouth twisting. “I… Could you please tell me one thing?”
“Hm?”
“I don’t want to upset you, I just… I need to know. It’s been eating me up for close to twenty years now. That story your Father told about the burglar, it’s never… Well, it’s never sat right with me. It’s never—“
“It wasn’t true,” Kenneth said. “He made it all up. There was no burglar, he didn’t try to save her, he… Did it.”
Tears gleamed in Beth’s eyes. “I… I had a feeling.” She wiped at her cheeks. “I’m sorry…”
Kenneth was tearing up too. “It’s okay… I still cry about it sometimes. I keep thinking about ways I could have saved her. If I’d gotten the gun away from Father, but I’d just been so scared that I couldn’t even move—“
“Oh, no— Did this happen with you watching?” Beth’s voice hitched.
“Yes…”
“Kenneth… No child should EVER…” Beth bit down on a sob. “I’ve always wished I could go back in time. I keep thinking there must have been some way I could have convinced Ramona not to… Not to marry that man. I knew she was being forced into it, the whole town knew, and they knew why. But, I knew just how bad of an idea it was. I was just… Stupid, I didn’t— I should have—“
“Her Mother was making her…” Kenneth said. “Don’t blame yourse—“
“I should have tried…” Beth said. “Ramona needed someone to stand up for her then, to take care of her. That should have been me, I was just… I was so angry at her at that time that I…”
“You’d had an argument?”
“No… It was a little more than that,” Beth said. “I— I wasn’t going to mention this, but I think you might understand it. Have you and Dwight figured things out yet?”
“Figured WHAT out?” Kenneth started to ask. “What do you— Oh, um… You mean, have we gotten… Closer? Uh, yes. We have…”
“I thought so,” Beth smiled a little. “I think I noticed you two were falling for each other when you were around ten.”
“Eheh, uhhh, took us a little longer to notice that,” Kenneth admitted.
“Your Mother and I— Ramona and I, we were closer too. Much closer than friends.”
“Oh— But— But you’re not Ann!” It was the only thing Kenneth could think to say, and he felt rather stupid for saying it. THIS was probably why Beth and Mother had had their fight! There had been a third girl!
“I am,” Beth said. “My full name is Annabeth. Ann, Beth. I started using Beth a few months after Ramona… Stopped seeing me. I was furious with her then, when her Mother found us out, and she just went to her side… Ramona nodded along as her Mother called us the most horrid things you could imagine, and then she said ‘Yes, Mother. I know. This was wrong. I won’t do it anymore.’”
Even without being there to see it, Kenneth could picture it clearly. He’d done similar things many times with his Father. There were times where Father had screamed at him, making awful accusations and demand he ‘confess’ to a wrongdoing he hadn’t actually committed. And, eventually, Kenneth never tried to deny anymore. He’d just nod, and dully agree with whatever Father was saying, only wanting to please him so that his upcoming punishment might be less severe.
“And I was angry,” Beth admitted. “I couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t try to fight for herself— for us. I thought she was telling me that I was less important to her than a woman who treated her like garbage. But, over time I realized that she’d just been terrified. She hadn’t known what else to do… When I heard she was getting married, my heart broke again. When I heard WHO her husband was going to be, I was horrified. But, I was still so upset that I couldn’t make myself—“
“You knew my Father?” Kenneth interrupted.
“Unfortunately,” Beth said. “Known him since we were kids, Francis was my cousin.”
“What?!”
“It meant I had to spend a lot of time with him,” Beth explained. “As a child, he wasn’t so bad. He was actually a good friend. He was scared of most things, and always tense, and I felt like I had to protect him. His Father— My Uncle— was a violent alcoholic. I didn’t understand that back then, but I know your Father was treated horribly.”
Kenneth nodded. Father HAD told him tales of his own childhood in the past, and Kenneth had gotten the impression that Grandpa had just been a carbon copy of Father.
“Francis turned eighteen and became a soldier— Not a guard like you. At that time, there was a dispute over a piece of territory, so he was sent into battle. And, I’m not sure what happened to him there, but when he came back he wasn’t so timid anymore, and he started to drink like a fish. I went to see him once just to check in on how he was doing, and he was so drunk that he couldn’t hold a conversation. He became enraged partway through and by the time I was leaving, I’d gotten a black eye.”
Kenneth DID know some of what had happened to Father when he’d seen combat. Father had gotten shot in the chest, a little further to the left and he would have been killed. Father had seen his friends die. Father had watched as a group of enemy soldiers decided to execute one of his friends even after he’d surrendered and begged for his life. “I know some really bad things happened to him back then,” Kenneth said.
“I’m sure they did. He never told me what they were,” Beth said. “And, he was just… Always drunk and angry, and that made him violent. He just started to hate everything and everyone, and he wouldn’t talk to me anymore. He shut me out, and spent all his time at the bar. He became especially cruel to women, and started to hone in on any that he thought might be easy to manipulate. Your Mother was… She was an extremely traumatized and fragile person, she really did seem to just resign herself to being abused. She told me once that I almost didn’t feel like a ‘real person’ to her because I didn’t hurt her. Abuse was what she expected, it was what made something ‘real’.”
Kenneth thought he knew THAT feeling too. When he’d first met Dwight, he’d been confused because Dwight never yelled, called him names, or hit him. He became even more perplexed when Dwight never made a sudden ‘turn’ and started to harm him. After so much time accepting that physical contact always equalled pain, being hugged felt strange and unnatural.
“So, I know why he went after Ramona,” Beth said. “And, when I learned they were getting married, I broke down with fear and anger. I wasn’t invited to the wedding of course, and I don’t think I would have been able to attend if I had been. I didn’t speak to her again for over two years after that, and by then you had been born. I’m not sure if you remember this or not, but you were hiding behind Ramona the entire time we were talking.”
“I kind of remember it,” Kenneth said. “I remember going to church with Mother a couple times, anyway. Father didn’t like us going, though.”
“Probably didn’t want her to see me there,” Beth said. “Our conversation— The last time I would ever speak to Ramona— wasn’t the best. It was like we were two strangers that just happened to know everything about each other. We talked about the weather of all things, neither saying a word about what we meant to one another. As we talked, I saw in the both of you the same fear and tension that had been in Francis when he was little. I knew he must have been treating you just as badly as I’d been afraid of, but I didn’t know what I could do.
“Around then, my parents both wanted to have me married to their friends’ son,” Beth said. “I wanted nothing to do with that man, so I told them that I felt I was being called in a different direction, that my love belonged to God. I knew they wouldn’t stop me from dedicating my life to God, and that meant they could no longer force me into marriage. So, that’s when I came here to take care of the children. I tried to focus on them, to stop thinking about what was happening to you and Ramona.
“But, then I found out she was… Gone. And, beyond the loss I felt, I also knew that you were going to be alone with my cousin. A couple times I tried to go to your house to do… Something for you— Just to SEE you, my Ramona’s son, and try to keep an eye on what was happening to you. But, your Father would never answer the door for me. I couldn’t even look through the windows since the curtains were always drawn.”
“I didn’t know anyone ever tried to check on me,” Kenneth admitted. “I thought everybody here just ignored what was going on.”
“Most people did, unfortunately,” Beth said. “I’m sure others knew what was happening, and if more people had tried, something WOULD have been done about it… Then, one morning, Dwight came downstairs with you. I knew I was supposed to scold him for bringing someone else in here— And for leaving the building after dark, since that’s the only way he could have MET you— But, when I recognized who you were, I couldn’t say one word to him. Later, all I could tell him was that I was so happy he’d made a friend, and that he could bring you to visit whenever he wanted. Finally, I had a way to look after you, even if only a little. I thought since I’d failed Ramona, I’d protect her son for her instead.”
“Wow,” Kenneth said. “So, someone really WAS looking out for me?”
“All of us here were,” Beth nodded. “When the others started to see the signs you were being abused, that gave me the push I needed to go to the police— I knew I wasn’t overreacting, other people were worried too. I couldn’t believe the police didn’t intervene, and I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Kenneth told her. “You TRIED. That’s more than anyone else ever did.”
“I should have tried harder.”
“You did what you could,” Kenneth said. “The rest was up to the police. They’re the ones that failed.”
“I’m sorry…” Beth repeated hoarsely. “I want Ramona to know that I… That I tried…”
Kenneth shook his head, “It’s… I— You want to know why I’m here? Why I’d ever come back? Before she died, my Mother wrote me this letter. It took me a really long time to open it, but I did recently. She talked a lot about you in it, she missed you so much. She… She wrote that she wanted me to tell you that she never… She never stopped loving you. That was the last thing she wanted, her dying wish was for both of us to know how much she loved us.”
“Do you have the letter…?”
Kenneth took it from his pocket. “Got it right here…” he said, handing it to her.
Beth read it over, sniffling the whole way through. The note shook in her hands and when she was done, she was crying harder, making Kenneth start tearing up again too. He moved to hug her, and she squeezed back.
“I think she’d be really happy to know that you were trying to keep me safe all those years,” Kenneth told her. “And, you’re going to see her in Heaven, you can tell her all about it.”
Beth squeezed him tighter. “She’s going to like seeing how you’ve grown up. She’ll be so glad that you and Dwight have each other, that you’re loved.”
“You’re loved, too,” Kenneth said. “Dwight says you and the others are the closest thing he had to parents, all the kids here now feel the same way. And, I guess it’s the same for me. You looked after me when my Mother couldn’t and my Father wouldn’t.”
They released each other, and Kenneth asked her to come back downstairs to talk to his friends. He introduced her to them AS Ann, which surprised them both.
“I don’t remember you ever telling me your full name,” Dwight admitted. “I’m sorry.”
“I probably never did,” Beth said. “I hardly ever used it in those days.”
“Thank you for watching over Paulson,” Bryce said. “I’m glad he had some people who were kind to him.”
***
They started to leave town shortly after that. Beth knew Mother had always loved her. Kenneth knew an adult had wanted to protect him. Kenneth had done everything he’d come here for, and now he’d never have to return again.
But, maybe he’d want to visit Beth again someday.
He’d prefer if she came to see HIM, though. If SHE was the one to make the trip, he wouldn’t have to worry about seeing his childhood home.
They had to pass it once more on their way out, and Kenneth tried not to look at it. He was glad that someone else was going to have good memories inside of it, but to him it would always look like a prison.
He could admit that the walls looked a little brighter now, though. |
This is my first time writing a fanfiction pls forgive me if my english is wrong.
This long story got desperation, holding.ok lets get on with the story. Main character name : Avril yeo
-----------------------------------------
Time : 8am
It was just another hot morning Avril, a young
Teenage girl age 16 with a slim body and a huge
bladder. Got ready for her school at the central college she felt thirsty and drank some water. Then she saw a slight bulge in her andomen inndicating the need for her morning pee. She went to the toilet and relived herself of her water then changed into her skirt and blouse and headed out for school.
She reached school on time as usal then went for class as per normal. During one of the last classes she had the urge to pass water but was against it as she does not like the school bathrooms.
Time : 6pm
School ended. Avril was about to head home whem she was called by her teacher to stayback for a project in school till nightfall. She groaned in dissapointment.... firstly because of staying back.. secondly ,her huge bladder was rather uncomfortable with her urine as she had not used the toilets for the whole day.
As a result she had no choice and went to use the school dirty bathroom to make herself comfortable.
Night fell... time : 9pm
Avril was finally done with her project and stayback class she sighed she went to the bus stop to find that there were no bus services.
So she walked home.
On the way back home she felt a urge to use the toilet again but wasnt worrried at all.
After all she have a huge bladder and is already heading home.
Suddenly, someome from behind covered a cloth on her mouth and the world went black.
Avril woke up and releaside she was inside a huge room with one light and pale white walls.
Her wrists and legs were bound to the wall by iron chains. She grunted with annoyance
....where am i ? I thought i was walking home? Why am i bound by this chains?
Then it hit her... she was kidmapped!.
She rembered... it was last night....when she was walking back..when someone... grabbed her.... Avril whole body was numb,fatique her wrists were sore from being chained up.
A moment later a man walked in with a liter of bottle water and shoved the bottle in her mouth
She could not do anything to stop that man but was grateful for the water as her throat was dry.
The man left the room without saying anything afterwards.
Time : 1.30am
Hours later.... avril yawned and tried to move as her body was stiff from being in the same position for a long time. She adjusted her skirt crossed her legs and sighed as she needed to use the toilet.
Avril was hoping someone rescue her soon she hoped the outside world would soon notice her absence from school.
Another few hours later...Avril urge to use the toilet gotten worse. She started to use her well-trained bladder muscles to hold as her bladder is getting fuller by the minute.she groaned" how much longer"? There was a slight bulge in her skirt now indicating her need to pass water.
Time : 4am
It was 4am but Avril did not know the time she just knew another few hours passed each minute feeling like 10 min she was exhausted from holding her urine her bladdrr muscles were tired and starting to hsve difficultu holding.her face was red from holding so long
She knew the time has come . She cant jold any longer her urthera hurts as hell and her body can take no more.
Suddenly , a group of men walked in all were carrying weapons such as Blades, knife , one gun and a kantana sheated
The biggest men she guessed the leader walked up to her and said you are our hostage and you will obey whatever i say and do.
She did not reply. The lead then walked over, looked at her bulging bladder and punched her in her bladder causing her tremdous pain. She screamed in pain and clenched her spincutr musvles to hold her urine before she leaked into her panties.
The lead man said: you must reply me by saying "yes" is that understood?,
Yes.. avril said.
Good .
Now....i shall..-------
LEADER! 4 of our men were taken out! At the entrance !! a guard said
What caused it?! Is it the police? The lader asked ?
I don t know yet sir! I Will investiage! Bodyguards defend the leader until i return. In the meantime i will lockdown this entire room!!
Leave the intruder to me!
The guard Pulled out his gun walked out and licked the room door.
Click!
Avril looked up through a haze of pain was that the police? Taling out the 4 gyards ?Am i finally getting rescused ? She thought .uugh! She moaned, a bit of urine went into her panties.
Boom. The front door exploded and the whole room clogged up with dust....foosteps....
Reaady yourselves !! One men shouted
Weapons were drawn out.
Through the smoke ans dust a ypung man probarly in his 17 wearing a black hat and black trench coat walked in.
Good morning all. He said.
KILL HIM!! The leader roared! The young man pulled out a kanata and swiftly brought down 2 guards .
Avril was amazed withwhat she saw. She squirmed in her seat as her bladder tried forcing out her urine during her distraction.
The youngman then threw his kanata impaling the leader to the nearby wall and then pulling out a iron rod and knocking down to other guards.
The rest of the guards ran after seeing their leader knocked down.
Avril leaked again into her panties. She groaned
Her bladdrer wont hold anylonger and the urine is at the tip of her urthera. Mmmm! She moaned ut hurt so bad to hold but she was almost free.
The man cut the chains locking Avril which allowred her to immediately grab her crotch and hold her swollen bladder.
You okay? The man ask?
What is your name? "Avril"
Oh nice, I am Brad Goh the Undercover student am actually the master of the blade and many more which will take time to explain.
Anyway, can you stand ? Or are you in need of something?
Uhhh i really need the toilet...Avril muttered as she held herself with both hands.
Oh i see. ........u can relive yourdelf here or hold till we get to a toilet the choce is yours. I will be outside waiting. (walks out)
Avril pressed her thighs together in desperation
Ugh, should i pee now? Or should i find a proper toilet? she thought.
She looked around the room for a pail. No pail not even a vase. Just a table and some useless papers. She walked out of the room and sighed.
Ughh my bladder is overfull and my urthera is hurting.really bad .... should i just pee on the ground?
"BOOM "
Avril jumped at the loud sound.A moment later Brad came running in with his sword drawn.
We need to move! Enemy reinforcements are here!!
Avril moved as fast as her bladder allowed her to she was at her limit and one wrong move can cause her dam to burst.
Brad yelled :Watch out!!!" Gunshot rang through the air and Avril covered her ears and continued running.
"THUD"
Something hit her. Was it a gumshot? She plucked out a dart from her leg. Shit, its a stun dart she thought. And she once more fainted .
Ughhhh she woke up lying down on a bed
Where....oh i remember i got shot by that dart...
Urghhh. She winced, Avril bladder is really full and is swollen it make her look 2 months pregnant.
You awake? Brad asked.
Yeah.... she said. Can i go to the toilet now am really bursting here...
Not sure if i can hold much longer...she
Crossed her legs tightly and moaned in discomfort. Where are we? Avril asked
Well.... we are in a bad situation here.. after u got hit by the dart i got distracted and the thugs shot me 3 times with their guns... so, i can't really move much right now.. managed to take 4 of them down. And we are pretty much stuck in this old house...
What!!! I can't hold for my urine for that long!!
I already leaked a few times!! How are you even a master of the blade when you cant even get us out of this!
I am sorry. I never thought this would happen. Brad apologised.
Release your urine outside in the rainforest
It has been a day since u peed. It is unhealthy to hold. Go outside and do your bussiness
Call me if you see thugs....
Part 2 out soon! |
Part 2....The forest
(Images are used to help describe ONLY )
Avril walked unsteadily as she held her overfull bladder. She exited the front door and was greeted by the lush green rainforest.
The scenery was really astounding. All the animals roaming around , the birds chirping away .
Monkeys swinging from branch to branch the sound of water coming from the nearby waterfall and---- Oh yes i need to pee so bad. Avril remembered.
She quickly squatted down, pulled down her white panties and relaxed her bladder. The moment she relaxed her full bladder all her urine can pouring out like a water jet. Oooh~ she moaned .
The feeling of releasing pent-up urine is so good it is like heaven for her...
She so wanted to touch herself and do naughty things when she heard Brad's voice coming from inside the shed.
Hey, woman. Stop being horny there, your making a lot of unescceray noise.
EEHHHHH????! He.... can hear??.. she covered her mouth and started blushing... oh my.....
How sharp is his ears?? .....Avril thought.
Oh dear .... my panties... i leaked into them quite bad at the abandoned place .. how did i hold so much.? ... at least i didn't wet myself..
Ahhh~ much better felt like my bladder was gonna burst..
She smoothen out her school skirt then walked back into the shed.
I'm back Brad.
Good grief... next time don't make so much noise
"Miss" .. if the enemy family hears it we're doomed.
Family? Avril asked.
Wait. I'll explain, as i was saying ignatius family
Will crush our family (phantrix family) .
We are outnumbered 10 to 1. It's best we stay out of their radar... for now
Um.. what is a family? You been saying.. these family will crush our family and all. Is family a gang of people or something?
Exactly, A family is like the Mafia ,Yakuza.. etc .
Some familes seek to destroy others and gain more power. While others tend to have territoral areas
Where they claim to" protect" and collect protection money. To fast foward it "igantius family" is one of those that destroy others.
It is unclear to me why they are doing this.
Umm. Your from the phantrix family.. am i right?
Yes.
And ----
Enough talk about this, you aren't involved in it.
As long as we escape from igantius family and i get you home, you will be safe with your mum.
What about you?
........
I'll be wiped out together with the "phantrix family"
Wiped... out... you mean... die?
Yes.
.........
Anway, don't worry about me, worry about yourself first.
Want some water? It is bottled water so it is clean.
Hmmm changing the topic quickly huh?
Avril thought.
I'll take the bottle. Thanks.
Now, go and rest it's gonna be a long day
Ok, will do Brad.
3 hour later
Uhhh. Am so bored..... i need to pee a little bit. Must be the water i drank.. Avril thought.
Ah! I just remembered.. how are your wounds brad? You said you got shot a few times right?
Yeah.. but it is fine already.. "sigh" i was just clumpsy last night .. maybe cause i was thinking about the latest game in the play store...
Huh??? You...!!
Shush Avril . i hear something....
What is it?
Rustling sounds.... leafs being pushed aisde...
Voices! Men voices..!
Ignatius family is here! Time to leave.. Avril! Lets leave this shed now. Right this instance.
Can't you fight them? Or call your family to fight?
Didn't i say earlier? Our family is outnumbered
10 to 1.
But...you have a kanata .... she said.
I am not gonna dirty it anymore with human blood or whatever creature blood unless necessary. Cleaning is such a hassle this days.
..... ._. Avril face
(Pulls out the iron rod )
I'll use this in the event they find us. A good knock on the head should work.
Oh, that again Avril thought.
This is called the Iron pocket staff. Its easy to use. Cost $5
.....
General, we have found the shed. Believed to be
The phantrix family shed .
Good work men. The enemy general said.
Now, find that pesky Master Brad and that girl
Kill the Master.
And for the girl... shoot her with a stun dart.
Yes sir.
(Enemy general smiles)
Brad... we are we headed ?
Phantrix HQ ....but.. we must hide our trail first otherwise we will lead the enemy to our base.
?
You see the footprints we are leaving on the ground?
Yes and how do they track us?
Uhh. They look at the ground. Or use sniffer dog
Oh.
...
4pm .......
We almost there at the HQ ? I need to pee
I'm trying to lose the enemy they are really following us. Brad said
I see.....
My bladder is half full already.... the uncomfortable urge is there.. Avril thought
Follow me across the hill Avril. We'll lose them from here 🙂
Stop right there!
( すぐそこに止まる!)
(A LOUD MALE VOICE )
?
あなたは誰?
(Who are you?)
Brad said
You are surrounded by the Igantius Family!
Surrender and i won't kill the girl!
(Enemy warriors appear next to Brad and Avril)
Pointing their weapons at them.
That voice .... so familar Brad thought
!!
Belphaghor!!
(Belphaghor unveils himself)
Well well well never thought i'll see you again!
I see. You brought our hostage girl with you.
くそ. (Shit) Brad thought.
Avril was again frozen with fear as there was a gun pointed at her .
(I don't wanna die!) She thought.
I don't have a choice though Brad said.
I surrender.
Good choice Brad. Belphaghor said.
Or so you think!
Earth shaker!
(Brad slams down his iron rod causing the ground below them to shake)
何？(what?)
General! The ground is spilting !
バイバイ！初めまして!
(Bye! Nice meeting you!)
Brad grabbed Avril hand and ran off before
Belphaghor could react.
逃げないで! (Your not escaping!)
Belphaghor started chasing.
I'll settle this. Brad thought.
Here is the map to the base Avril .
(Pass a map)
Follow the trail!
What about you?!
I'll be back.
Brad keeps his Iron rod away and pulls out his katana.
(Stops and turn behind)
かかって来い Belphaghor!
(Bring it on Belphaghor!)
To be continued |
Hey everyone! I hope you enjoy this latest story and if you'd like to commission your own, just drop me a message!
THE UNBEARABLY LONG HOLD
Janet was incredibly uncomfortable, her legs squirming over and over, wrapped inside her tight black jeans. Twenty-eight, thin; with long legs and a bimbo-ish body and face, she had caught the eyes of several men upon walking into the airport. Her rough brown hair hung loosely down to her shoulders, gently swaying as she struggled her way to the aeroplane; longing to sit down again, as her bladder burned with intense desperation and her bright green eyes seemed to cry out for relief…
TWO WEEKS EARLIER…
Janet Smokes was a high level executive for the Oddan Corporation, overworked and incredible stressed from a corporate merger that was throwing both offices into chaos. As such, for the last three months, she’d been under constant pressure to get things in order and her once good looks had descended into those more akin of a street hooker. One intern had recently made the fatal mistake of pointing out her exhausted looks to her, causing him to be thrown out within the hour; blacklisted from jobs with every company in the city.
However, Janet’s true stress had started just over two weeks ago when her boss had given her the last news she had wanted to hear:
‘We need you reviewing the Australian holdings if the merger’s gonna be complete any time this fucking year. It’ll only be for a couple of weeks at most’.
‘Isn’t there anyone else? Do we really need boots on the ground?’.
‘You know how it is with these bureaucratic bullshitters if we don’t. Your flight leaves in two days Janet. Try and enjoy the scenery while you’re there. It’s a beautiful country’.
Janet had no problem being the hard bitch to division employees who weren’t being targets, however she loathed the idea of going abroad. Unbeknownst to all at her office, Janet absolutely hated to pee in public. It didn’t matter whether it was indoors, luxurious, dirty, empty; filled with people: It was all the same. Despite having a private en-suite in her office at headquarters, she had never used it to relieve herself. The only bathrooms she could use were the ones at her own home and her parent’s house, having grown up with them.
Elsewise, she was completely averse to it. The sensation, the signs of desperation, the way it made other women she knew behave weakly: Janet got sick at the thought alone. She’d fired more than one female intern for needing too many bathroom breaks (Any outside of lunch fitting those parameters) and utterly reviled whenever her female colleagues would excuse themselves for relief on nights out. The way they’d hold themselves through their dresses or skirts like babyish little toddlers, their knees wobbling or bums shaking from too much drink in their bladders: It made her feel ill.
The worst had been when her boss Molly Brians had got roaring drunk, only to end up desperate to pee, while stumbling through the city with Janet at 2:00AM in the morning. Watching her boss in such a vulnerable, pathetic state would have been painful enough. Yet the night truly took a turn for the worse when Molly; doing the pee-pee dance outside a train station, suddenly froze still. For a moment, Janet had been pleased at her boss’s newfound control, until she saw Molly begin to have an embarrassing accident that had left Janet dumbfounded and disgusted.
She had to feign being more drunk than she actually was, as seconds later; she vomited heavily at the sight, covering a nearby bush. Ever since then, Janet tried to avoid the topic of peeing or situations that would lead to people being desperate, wherever possible. However, she knew that this work-trip was going to be an enormous ordeal for her. Despite being iron-bladdered and used to not peeing for days at a time, two-weeks was beyond anything she had ever tested. If things went wrong…
‘Janet, don’t be such a baby’ she mentally scolded herself for even thinking those thoughts. ‘You’re a grown woman, not some immature brat. You’ll hold on just fine’.
So, Janet began her work trip to Australia; reviewing documents for most of the flight, sipping on expensive champagne. Upon arriving, she took a day to re-adjust her body clock; lounging about by a pool, enjoying a suntan and smirking at the stares her body received from several other hotel patrons. One man; a thirty-four-year-old Senior Tech Consultant for Apple, had started a conversation with her and within the hour, she found herself pinned to the bedroom walls of her room, screaming out in delight as she dug her nails into his thick arms and let him bury his hard cock deep inside her. Eventually, she reached climax and let Adam, Max or whatever he’d said his name was, blow his load over tits, before sending him on his way.
An hour later, she was drinking wine; sitting at her computer, feeling well recuperated. The fucking had knocked the jetlag right out of her system, so now, she was ready to start the job she’d been sent for. After nearly forty hours without using the bathroom, she was beginning to feel the very first inklings of needing the loo, yet shrugged it off.
‘It’s nothing. I can keep control’ she thought.
For the next week, Janet’s life consisted of a series of car journeys, office meetings and shouting matches with local heads; who thought they had the authority or ‘friends’ necessary to defy her authority. They were wrong. Five were fired, twelve demoted and two dozen employees let go for a variety of reasons. Some were lazy, some disrespectful, a few were just inefficient. At one branch, she decided to fire a pregnant employee; calculating their severance was less expensive to the company than maternity leave. She fired the weeping woman in the morning, then returned for an evening meeting; only to find that almost every employee had signed a petition, calling for Janet to allow their colleague ‘Megan’ to stay.
Janet had been almost bored as the local manager screamed at her for being a heartless bitch, more distracted by the growing pain in her bladder; now making her tap her heel impatiently, wanting to sit down. Part of her wanted to squirm, to tighten her legs and relieve the pressure, however she refused to be caught dead doing that in front of any employee; whether her boss or a subordinate.
‘You’re a wicked, heartless cow!’ screamed the manager she remembered was called Joseph, only recalling his name due to a distinctive curly moustache.
‘I’m not here to be your friend, get her out of here by week’s end and get someone new in. Three days’.
She left the branch to a series of expletives, which she shrugged off; sliding back inside the leather seats of her corporate car. Giving a slight sigh of relief that the pressure was now off from her bladder, she looked towards Jonas; her driver, an unusually pale-skinned, who was waiting silently for instructions. She appreciated that. Random conversation with strangers drove her nuts.
‘The Ironbrooks Hotel’.
‘Yes Miss Smokes’.
‘Raise the divider Jonas, I don’t want to be disturbed’.
Within moments, a blackout window slid up; isolating Janet. As the car drove down the Australian highway, a five-hour drive ahead of her, Janet drank champagne; though less than normal, as she felt the pressure in her bladder growing. She hated the sensation, like a pricking under her skin and shifted her bum on the seat, trying to get comfortable. By now, eight full days of bladder build up had turned her normally thin stomach into an extended belly; more fitting for someone twice her size and weight, as dozens of expensive drinks sloshed around inside her.
‘For fuck’s sake’ she moaned quietly, pulling out a cigarette, her right hand trembling ever-so-slightly from the strain on her body, as she let the feeling of nicotine calm her.
Even so, it did little to relieve the pressure and despite her attempts to resist, Janet found herself squirming in the backseat, her knees occasionally clamping together, her feet tapping, as she massaged her stomach and bloated bladder, trying to regain full control. Out of character for her, she was blushing, feeling completely inappropriate: More akin to a desperate schoolgirl than feared corporate executive.
‘At least I’m alone’ she told herself. ‘The woman I work with don’t pee for a few hours and act like little girls! I’ve been holding it in for nearly eight days! They don’t have a real woman’s strength’.
Despite her arrogance, that night; once back at the hotel, Janet stared longingly into the hotel bathroom for a moment. It was a white-tile bathroom, with a clean porcelain toilet and good quality towels; just like her own bathroom. Maybe she could…
‘No!’ she said aloud angrily, before calming herself and slipping into her pyjamas: A dark-red nightgown, though she loosened the silk belt more than she cared to admit as she got into bed; trying to get comfortable.
‘I only use the bathroom at my house! I’m not a little girl, I have a real woman’s strength! I can manage until I go home’.
Despite this, her ‘real woman’s strength’ began to show serious cracks over the second half of her trip. Whereas before, she would march round offices, calling in on employees unexpectedly and ruthlessly circling them; an intimidation tactic, now, she began to slow down. At first, it was just a slower walk and less movement. However, the increasing pain on her bladder; as well as the growing signs of her desperation for the toilet, which were growing harder to cover up, forced her to largely hold meetings inside offices. Though still able to grill people, Janet knew she wasn’t doing her job as efficiently or ruthlessly as normal, yet she couldn’t help it.
By the third day of the second week, her walk’s to the car were ponderous; practically lollygagging, strolls, before she would order Jonas to raise the blinder, thus giving her precious isolation from which she could squirm, moan and even hold herself. That had started today, after a potentially lethal bladder pang made her feel like she was about to leak into her panties if she didn’t. Horrified at the thought, her normal embarrassment at doing something so childish had vanished and she’d spent the remainder of the car journey with one hand stuffed between her legs, while massaging her stomach with the other; wincing in pain wherever there was a bump in the road.
Every night; back at her hotel, the clean bathroom and porcelain toilet grew ever-more-appealing, as she tossed and turned and kicked in bed, holding herself through her pyjamas like she hadn’t done since she was a little girl. Despite this, Janet still remained stubborn, determined to make it back home, where she could at least feel comfortable getting the relief she had; reluctantly, conceded that she needed.
However, her body was increasingly resisting her attempts to control it.
On the sixth day of her second week, she was walking carefully through a newly constructed branch; alongside a senior national manager. She was dressed in tight black jeans and a black jumper, with a white undershirt. Despite her massive discomfort, she refused to wear clothing that would make things any easier on her, not wishing to undermine her fearsome reputation with gentler clothes. However, as they reached the top of a flight of stairs, Janet let out a moan of agony before she could stop herself; doubling over in pain, her hands wrapped around her stomach. The manager looked at her, concerned, as Janet struggled to contain the enormous ocean of pee inside her.
‘Are you alright Miss Smokes?’.
‘Y-yes, I’m fine! Caught my foot on the stairs! Now then, you were saying about the predicted Q3 figures?’.
Though the manager continued to speak, Janet barely heard him; wanting to scream out in agony. The pressure in her bladder was nigh unbearable, pulsating against her bloated tummy, as her legs shook with desperation. Over the next hour, Janet barely heard beyond her own heartbeat; racing intensely, or felt more than the sweat running down the back of her neck. She had never ever felt desperation like this. A huge part of her wanted to ask where the toilets were and dash to them. Hell, at this point, she felt uncomfortably close to just standing up and letting it all flood out into her jeans…
‘No!’ she thought angrily at herself, scolding that thought. ‘I will not let that happen. I-I can make it home… I can’.
The next twenty-four hours were among the most painful, agonising torturous work-hours she had ever experienced. Every step she took around the final Australian office; where in her mind had far too many stairs, ripped straight into her overfilled bladder, making her want to let go every-time it happened. Every time she could, Janet slipped off into an empty office, behind a pillar or even a quiet hallway; then began dancing around desperately, doing the pee-pee dance, squirming, shaking, her legs vibrating with urgent desperation, as her fingers clutched tightly inside her tight black jeans.
‘Fuck me, I’m fucking bursting for the toilet! How could I let things get so far?! I can’t hold on any longer! I need the toilet! I’m going to wet myself’.
However, each time this thought came up, she would steel her nerves, grit her teeth and re-emerge from her hiding spots, returning to work. Sometimes, she’d make it an hour or two before another desperate holding fit. Other times, within a few minutes, she’d have both hands stuffed down her jeans, on the verge of crying out for a toilet. Nevertheless, Janet persisted and somehow; at day’s end, she was able to step inside her company car, sitting shakily on the leather seats; her legs vibrating with desperation, as she closed the car door.
‘Put the blinder up Jonas!’ she ordered, however his next words sent a cold chill running down her spine.
‘I’m very sorry Miss Smokes, the blinder is not working. Please feel free to smoke, I won’t be bothered’.
Janet sat frozen; for several minutes, as the car drove down the highway. She needed to squirm, to hold herself, to do all the things she looked down on other women for, if she was going to have any hope of making it back to the UK. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t make an 18-hour flight. She doubted she’d make it to the airport. Her desperation was too strong, her bladder hurt too much. After a few more minutes of insufferable bladder torment, Janet’s desperation finally won out over her pride.
‘Jonas’ she said shakily, in a tone so unlike her usual confidence. ‘Do you want to make a thousand dollars, right now?’.
Jonas looked surprised, turning towards Janet briefly; wondering where this was going. Janet shakily drew out a check-book, signed a one-thousand-dollar check and placed it in the driver’s jacket pocket.
‘What I’m about to do… do not speak of this to anyone. Not your boss, not your wife, not your therapist’s retarded cousin. Am I clear?’.
Jonas nodded, still not entirely understanding. Seconds later though, his eyes widened in surprise as he saw Janet; a powerful and feared executive in Oddan, begin to hold herself like a ten-year-old, struggling with potty training. Tears came to Janet’s eyes, as her fingers slid into her jeans, underneath her panties and tightly gripped her pussy. She began to moan loudly, her bum shaking repeatedly on the tight leather seats, as her legs twisted rapidly; over and over again.
After several minutes of this shocking display, Jonas nervously spoke up.
‘Miss Smokes… if you require a restroom, we can stop anywhere you like?’.
‘I can’t go anywhere apart from my home’ admitted Janet, unable to even attempt a lie. ‘Just get me to the airport, quick!’.
How Janet planned to hold on during the entire flight home, Jonas had no idea but a thousand dollars speaks loudly. He began to accelerate faster down the highway, as a pained Janet groaned and shook and held her knees tightly together with every passing mile. Within the hour, they’d made it; almost in record time. As she stumbled from the car, somewhere in the back of her mind, Janet made a mental note to request for Jonas to be transferred to their UK division: His professionalism and loyalty during this humiliating moment for her was something she appreciated.
Now, here she was, making her way through an airport; seemingly on the verge of losing it, fighting with every step to make it back home.
Every minute that passed from that moment on was an unspeakable hell for Janet. Hundreds; if not thousands, of people saw her limp and dance through the airport in her desperate state. At a few key junctions, she had to stiffen up; elsewise be denied her flight and then, any chance of making it home without wetting herself. However, every cue bend and airport gate felt like it was moving in slow-motion, as she bounced desperately on the spot; several tourists and frequent fliers staring at her contemptuously, assuming she must be a nervous flyer.
Things improved slightly in the aeroplane… for the first hour. After that, the desperation continued as bad as before and only grew worse. There was no chance of sleep. She didn’t dare eat anything and the mere sight of a drink near her would likely cause her to flood her seat and half the plane with it. Instead, she sat; shaking, calming music flooding her ears through a pair of wireless headphones, that eased her stress in absolutely no way at all.
Janet simply stared out the window as they took off, achieved cruising level and began to tick by the miles, hour by hour, minute by minute. Her thin legs were vibrating like a rung bell, trapped inside her tight black jeans, as sweat poured down her forehead. A few times, she looked towards the aeroplane toilets, almost wondering if she could use them. She wanted to. She needed to so badly but Janet still refused. Despite much of her pride being in tatters, Janet would never resort to something that low.
‘If I lose control, it will be in my jeans, my head held high, fighting until my last breath. I will not scream and cry to use the toilet. Never’.
And so, Janet fought on, even as every part of her body screamed for release. Yet somehow, even as Janet shook like she was about to wet herself at any moment, her resolve held and eventually, her plane landed; wheels hitting tarmac being the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.
Making her way through the airport and into the company car, she felt like she was in a haze, a fog of desperation that had become this permanent; yet somehow routine, agony. Even as the long drive back to her house began, she squirmed and fidgeted and felt sweat pour down her, yet no longer did she moan or curse; despite being able to behind a working blinder. Perhaps she no longer had the strength.
Even so, a moment came when Janet knew that; within a few moments, everything would be over. It was a pang like no other, an intense agony so great, she screamed silently for several seconds; the breath catching in her throat. It hurt beyond anything she’d ever experienced, she almost imagined it was what going into labour would feel like; if she’d ever wanted kids. The sensation was pure, white-hot, nuclear fire desperation that would overwhelm her body in a matter of minutes… perhaps seconds…
‘We’ve arrived Miss Smokes’.
The words shocked Janet to her core.
She was home.
She was home!
Where before, every step had been a torture for her bladder, now, every movement of every muscle felt like being torn apart. Her legs were shaking so badly, she could see her driver glance towards them, though he had no clue as to why. When she pulled her bags from the car, she thought she might begin soaking her jeans as she lifted them or even as the vehicle drove away. But she didn’t.
Instead, Janet turned around, exhausted, desperate beyond all belief, her bloated stomach now overhanging her tight black jeans so much that it was drooping halfway over a thick camel-toe, before walking to the front door of her home. The door slid open, then shut and a burst of energy; Janet’s last, surged through her, as she screamed in delight, fear, pain, terror and emotion, tears rolling down her face, as she finally unbuttoned her black jeans, running towards her nearest toilet. She felt her bladder finally snap right as she pushed open the bathroom door, there was no holding anymore but her sheer momentum prevented any leaks until her panties and jeans were ripped down to her ankles, her cute little bum hit the toilet seat and then…
‘Oh… FUCK!!!!!!!!!!’.
Janet could say nothing else. The relief was indescribable. Pee sprayed out from her pussy like a high-pressure firehouse, colliding with the ceramic bowl so fast, for a moment, she was genuinely worried she might split it. She moaned and cried and felt an orgasm wash over her, her clit throbbing like a drumbeat; pulsating in her ears, from nothing more than sheer, utter bliss. It was divine, it was sensational, Janet had never felt anything this good.
No promotion or sex felt this pleasurable, no spa day or therapist session was this relieving. Her whole body was getting lighter, as she continued to pee a thunderous amount; having to flush the toilet mid-stream, as her onslaught threatened to reach back up to her, a sensation she was sickened by the very thought of. Despite being frustrated that she had come so close to an accident, Janet had to admit: The vast majority of bathroom breaks were silly, stupid affairs; from people too weak to show some backbone and hold on for longer to work.
But every once in a while, she had to admit, they were bliss. As the last streams of pee finally poured from Janet’s exhausted body, after over ten minutes of relief, Janet sagged against the toilet, immensely proud that her clothes remained dry and that she had made it home, her honour intact. She had to admit it… that was a worthy end to an unbearably long hold. Now, she would never have to be that desperate or afraid again. Janet gave a rare smile; without malice, as she breathed in deeply, mentally getting herself ready to relax and enjoy a well-earned break.
Meanwhile; half a world away, a driver sat inside a company car, smiling at photos of a senior executive holding herself like a little girl, utterly desperate for the toilet. Several days-worth of pictures, culminating in a mad-dash for the airport. Jonas smiled. These would prove useful for his plans to come…
THE END. |
Hey everyone! Here's part II of this story, courtesy of a second commission and if any of you want your own, please DM me whenever!
Otherwise, enjoy!
PART II
Jonas smiled wickedly. The photos he now held from the last six weeks of work, were worth over $20,000 to his employers; eager to ruin his boss’s reputation. However, of perhaps even greater joy to him, was the acclaim it would win him among the internet forums he regularly frequented. Original, unstaged and genuine desperation material was extremely rare and so he knew that these pictures would be of great delight to his many online compatriots.
The photos in question showed the woman he regularly drove for; Janet Smokes, in extreme States of desperation, having delayed her need to use the toilet for several days at a time. An arrogant, ruthless business executive, she had made many enemies in her time; several of which had combined their resources to hire him, leading to his undercover work over the last month and a half. As he had suspected, like many cases had been on before, these ruthless business types always had one particular weakness. Sometimes, it was a particular voice that held sway over them, such as drugs or gambling. Other times, it was a medical failing, such as genetic illnesses or mental ones they were hiding from their employers. Yet most often of all, Jonas found that these types were exceptionally prideful and thus, would drive themselves into vulnerable states of exposure, so long as they wrongly were led to assume they would be safe if in doing so.
Janet was one such example. Though normally refusing to show weakness in front of others, she trusted Jonas and was willing to openly hold herself and even complain how desperate she was to him; though with the caveat of berating other women for their weak bladders. He had multiple hours of video footage of her squirming like a little girl in the back of his BMW and; no doubt, she would soon learn of this, when her corporate rivals ‘leaked’ the files on the Oddan Corporation Servers. It would utterly ruin her and before Janet had a chance to track down Jonas, he would be long gone.
*PING!*
Jonas’s phone buzzed, as he swiped up and grinned, seeing $20,000 had just arrived in his account. Igniting his car engine, he knew it was time to move onto the next target and the assignment had already come through. $50,000. A multi-month contract. The woman’s face appeared in his messages and grinned excitedly, speeding down the motorway; as he raced for the airport.
This was going to be fun.
‘I don’t give a fuck you stupid bitch’ snarled the older woman, as tears poured down the younger girl’s face. ‘If you wanted your job, you shouldn’t let have let any random man with a dick fuck you. You’re fired’.
The redhead nineteen-year-old burst out of the office; sobbing, while her boss sighed in annoyance. There was nothing she hated more than having to hunt for a new secretary and after her experiences with this one, she was even less enthused than normal. The woman's name was Jane Carroway: A skinny blonde, thirty-one-year-old who had used every part of her body; sometimes even enhancing old parts, to climb up the corporate ladder faster than any of her peers. At just twenty-four, she had already had multiple breast enlargement surgeries and three additional ones since then had given her a large, glossy fake chest that some men fawned over, while any with common sense ran a mile; taking it as a sign to the rest of her nature.
Unfortunately, men with that kind of sense were rare in her business world; despite their numerous nature, so Jane had routinely been able to take advantage of this and through a series of sexual favours, had leveraged herself the deputy head position of the entire National office of the Louden group, a highly successful shipping firm.
Even so, she was stressed. Not from her corporate responsibilities; her ruthless nature was largely an act to mask her complete indifference towards other people's needs. She could blitz through intense workloads regularly, yet her current challenge was one of a very different nature. At their corporation’s regular Christmas party; an event she was obliged to throw and attend, drunken revelry had led to over four different women, including a fellow department head, pissing themselves in in the offices and hallways of the building, with Jane nearly gagging at the sight of pee dripping down their tight pinstripe skirts, as they sobbed and whined for undeserved affection. In the aftermath, Jane had recommended to her boss that they all be immediately fired, in order to dissuade future behavior of this sort. However, Jack; in a rare display of compassion, forgave their misdeeds as:
‘It’s just what women do at Christmas. In general, really. Most can’t help themselves’.
The words had been grating at her for weeks since then, gnawing away at her. Jane was used to workplace sexism but to suggest that other women should be excused for; as she saw it, pathetic displays of weakness, just because they were woman: It infuriated her. In her eyes, it was an affront to every display of her strength she had ever shown. If another woman disgraced them for acting this way, she should be punished. To be associated with people like that; just because of her sex, repulsed Jane, to the point that, nine days ago, she had given up using the toilet daily. She had exceptionally strong bladder control and it felt unbelievably week to need relief in the same manner they did. They were beneath her.
The very idea of needing to relieve herself when her ‘body’ demanded was beneath her. Jane was a powerful businesswoman. She’d use a bathroom if she wanted to and not before; which she didn’t, and knew she wouldn’t want to for some time. Hence, she had resolved herself to an exceptionally long hold period of holding, for which she had given herself no easy conditions. Tight blue jeans with a thick black belt were wrapped around her waist, she drank no less than before and her high-heels made easy resting impossible; putting more strain on her body. She hadn’t cared. This was all proof of her superiority. It made her feel proud every day she rejected the pathetic idea of a ‘bathroom break’: It was childish, no better than a toddler’s mindset.
Jane Carroway was a woman.
However; after nine days, she was a woman who was getting increasingly desperate for the toilet.
Her bladder has swollen significantly, leading to a large bulge that hung over her skirt and left Jane routinely rubbing her belly; trying to ease the immensely uncomfortable aching. A few of her fellow employees had seen this and wondered if she was pregnant, though the idea of asking a woman as prickly as her to confirm that, quickly sent them rushing back to work before she noticed them staring. With each new day, Jane found sitting to be increasingly difficult, as she started to squirm uncomfortably in even the most relaxing of leather chairs.
At home, she secretly relished the times when she could undo her tight business clothes and slip into a finally made velvet dressing gown, giving herself an excuse to ease the growing pressure she felt to hold on. Yet; despite having ample opportunity, Jane was not taking any of them and refused to use the toilet, even as it became clear to her that she was growing more and more desperate by the day. However, whenever the temptation grew significant enough to make her consider it, she thought of her fellow employees at the Christmas party and how utterly worthless they had looked with hot streams of piss running down their tanned legs. The thought alone was enough to repulse her from even glancing towards her work bathroom for several hours.
However, as time went on, even Jane was slowly having to come to terms with the fact that she could not fight off her bodily needs forever. Every step she now took in her high, black-heeled shoes sent sharp bursts of pain getting through her body that almost made her cry out in agony each time they shot through her. After sixteen days of holding without a bathroom break, Jane was openly squirming in the backseat of her private car; driven by a thankfully discrete driver named Jonas, who she knew she could count on to never reveal her shameful actions, the man having a reputation for being an exceptionally discrete and professional employee when it came to maintaining corporate secrets and appearances.
‘If you need me to stop somewhere ma’am, just let me know’ said Jonas neutrally; in a non-judgmental tone, as Jane held herself between a pair of thick, dark blue jeans; squirming with open desperation.
‘Certainly not!’ she said sharply. ‘I control my body, it does not dictate terms to me and I will find relief when it is necessary. Not before’.
Jonas nodded.
‘As you say ma’am. Here’s your complimentary champagne for the day’ he said, pressing a button that raised two wine glasses and a $400 bottle of champagne from the seat’s inner cooler.
Normally, the sight of it always brought a thin, smug smile to Jane’s face; enjoying the power she had, where fine drinks were available to her at a moment’s notice. One thing she always loathed to see was homeless people; packs of half-used water by their sleeping spots, begging for money. Jane had never begged for anything in her life; excluding a few faked cries of lust in affairs with her boss, so to see others do so made her respect them even less than she instinctively did with most. A few people; like Jonas, were tolerable, even mildly enjoyable as social company, for their subservience and deference to her authority. Most were cattle in her mind, to either be herded or disposed of.
Even so, the sight of the champagne now made her feel uneasy. Watching icy cold drips flow down the glass, Jane felt her own desperation spike for a moment and couldn’t help but wonder how good it would feel to let it all just flow out. Right now, her clenched legs felt like that champagne cork and she almost wanted to feel herself burst; to get the relief she knew she desperately needed, even if it all went out over her clothes…
‘Get a hold of yourself woman!’ she mentally scolded herself. ‘That is vile! You will hold yourself with dignity, not piss on your jeans like some dirty little whore. Good grief’.
Even so, holding with dignity was still somewhat beyond Jane as she squirmed and wriggled and tightly held herself through her jeans for the rest of the car journey; even as she continued to sip through the champagne, determined to pretend she could act with her normal strength. If she had known that Jonas had slipped a powerful diuretic in the drink hours earlier, she may have felt very differently.
Within a day, Jane was feeling the effects. Where before, she was desperate, now: Jane was in constant agony. As the third week of her desperation began, Jane woke up groggy on her bed; her whole body feeling wracked with exhaustion and sweat, as she moaned in discomfort. However, as she tried to move to get up and dressed, she let out an enormous scream of pain, as she felt a burning sensation rip through her bladder. Every muscle within her was trying to let the piss gush out and Jane gripped her pussy tightly, screaming and sobbing in exhaustion, as she applied every bit of strength she had to prevent an accident she felt right on the edge of.
‘I can hold it… I can hold it… I… I can’ she repeated to herself; over and over, though she didn’t know whether that was the truth or a lie anymore.
Getting dressed was pure torture. She badly wanted to put on a dress, a skirt; even a flat pair of shoes, anything that would make holding herself easier, yet it contrasted too much with her reputation of being a business-only executive. A dress was too friendly, a skirt invited sexual comments and even flat shoes said; in her mind: ‘Look at me, I’m just like everyone else!’.
Despite the pain she was in, nothing hurt Jane more than the thought that she was like other women; particularly that she was as vulnerable to her bladder needs as they were. Despite the madness of her perspective, Jane continued to holding, sweating and squirming through a light breakfast of syrup pancakes and orange juice; before stepping into her private car, shakily telling Jonas to take her to the office, before she belted in for the hour long journey there.
Jane barely saw the traffic go past her, instead seeing a blur of colours and noises; her whole body sweating and delirious from pain, her stomach now bulging so large that it was open-office conversation that she was pregnant. Her belly hung over her tight blue jeans; drooping several inches forward, as the once-proud executive kept her hands firmly between her legs for the entire car journey. Once or twice, she wanted to remove them to have some more of her drink; to prove she could, though deep down, she knew she would begin wetting herself almost instantly if she even tried and so, her hands remained clenched into her stomach, digging tighter and tighter to help her hold on.
‘I don’t need the toilet… I don’t need the toilet… I… I…’.
She couldn’t even bear to repeat the mantra in her head; knowing what utter crap it was, while even the word made her feel painful pangs of desperation. Jonas; seeing her desperate state, smiled widely. He’d already gotten enough material over the last few days to humiliate her for her his clients, yet he suspected that he was now about to get the crown jewel of her desperate holding tonight. He’d seen dozens of women desperate over the years and near as many accidents. In that time, Jane was on the more impressive side of the scale, having held for weeks where most would be in sheer agony by their second day. Yet as he knew and Jane had tried to deny: Everyone had their limit. They would be squirming, cursing, moaning, crying in pain, dancing desperately, twisting their legs; vibrating from sheer desperation.
Then, a moment would come where their body would freeze up; their desperation ceasing for a moment, only to be followed by a loud hissing as they began to completely lose control of themselves, wetting themselves like little girls in the backseat of his car. It was the simple, unavoidable truth if she did not reach a bathroom first and Jonas wondered which would break first:
Her pride or her bladder?
Three hours later, Jane was sitting in her office; trying to type out a report, yet every word was fading in and out on her screen, Jane nearly passing out from the nuclear-fire of pain in her bladder. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced, a burning hot centre that had consumed her life and left her wondering if she’d ever feel anything but pain again. Jane’s whole body was trembling; as if she had a fever, sweat was pouring down her forehead, while her legs were twisted around each other; her thighs burned slightly from the intense gnawing of her jeans which were now far too tight to give even the slightest amount of space for comfort to Jane’s immensely painful bladder desperation.
She couldn’t take it anymore. Jane wanted this pain to go away, she’d never felt in so much debilitating agony and wanted to make it stop. Suddenly, nothing else seemed to matter anymore. She was alone and there were bathrooms down the hall. Most others were working and it was unlikely anyone would see her enter. Even if they did, she’d proved her strength. She’d held on longer than most woman could ever dream of doing. There was no reason for her to feel weak. Even so, her mind was at war with itself.
‘You don’t need to use the toilet. Not when you’re forced to! It is beneath you, those other women are beneath you and so are their needs. You don’t need the toilet. I don’t need the toilet. I… I… I… I do need the toilet! I need it!’.
The moment she admitted that to herself, her body seemed to respond to her mental fortitude cracking with a sharp burst of desperation that nearly started her relief in flooding her office chair. Breathing deeply to control the pain, Jane wiped tears of pain from her eyes and steeled herself to stand up. Even that act alone was difficult and nearly made Jane lose it, the sheer weight in her bladder; while standing on shaky legs, nearly driving her to unspeakable embarrassment. Even so; somehow, she kept holding and all she had to do was make it down the hallway. The toilets were so close. She could get the relief she needed.
Jane took her first step forwards.
Suddenly, her office door swung open and her boss, Jack Smithers, walked in, dressed in a sharp business suit.
‘Ah, Jane; excellent! Are you ready for the meeting?’.
Jane felt her blood go cold.
‘What?’ she said, in a tone that couldn’t hide her fear.
‘The Q1 growth meeting for our South-Eastern holdings? It’s on the schedule!’.
Jane wanted to scream; remembering it now, only having forgotten because of the intense pain in she’d been in for the last forty-eight hours.
‘Ah, yes; of course’.
‘Are you alright?’ asked Jack. ‘You look a little unwell’.
‘I-I’m fine’ said Jane. ‘I’ve taken an aspirin’.
‘Ah, headaches are rough. Well, we’d best get a move on. There’s still a few minutes before we start. Did you want to use the bathroom first?’.
Jane wanted to answer yes. She wanted to scream it. She wanted to push Jack out of the way and dash into the toilets, yank off her torturous jeans and feel the flood of relief spread through her body. At this point, anything sounded better than going to that meeting. Peeing through her clothes into the toilet; just so she could get relief quicker. Asking Jack to carry her to the toilets. Hell, even wetting herself in-front of him right now sounded better than another second of holding and the risk of an accident in front of the entire executive board.
But she didn’t do any of those things. Jane forced a smile and stood up straight, gritting her teeth.
‘No need’ she said, trying to sound confident.
‘Let’s go’.
TO BE CONTINUED… |
Chapter 1: An Important Business Meeting
Vanessa is a 24 year old young woman. She is originally from Germany, but moved to England a few years ago, having moved there originally to go to college. She wasn’t planning to stay after college, but ended up making a life for herself and really, she saw no reason to move back. She managed to gather a pretty international group of friends around her, some from England, some from elsewhere. She had recently started her first job after graduating, working as an assistent in an advertement firm. Her college degree was quite broad, and she wasn’t sure if this was what she wanted to put it to use for for the rest of her life, but it was a good start. Her job didn’t actually involve all that much. It was mostly administrative stuff. Organising her boss’ schedule, taking notes in meetings, ... making coffee, of course. Her boss was quite strict, and could be a bit insensitive at times, but really they got along great, and even chose to spend time together outside work. For a recent college graduate she got paid well, her boss generally treated her well, and she felt like the company was small enough that she felt a genuine connection to her colleagues. There wasn’t a hard line between her colleagues, and her friends outside work, and in the year since she had worked for the firm, the two groups, being quite similar in age, had quickly become intertwined very quickly. Overall, she felt very content with the way her life was going.
Presently Leanne, her boss, was stressing about an upcoming meeting with a potential big new customer. They were looking for a company to design a logo, build a website, and create billboards for them. For the company, being relatively young, this was a huge opportunity, and Leanne felt like a huge amount of pressure was on her to come up with good proposals and make the deal happen. Vanessa’s part in the meeting would mostly be to pay close attention and take notes, but Leanne occasionally asked for her input, and Vanessa suspected that this may turn out to be one of those meetings where she will be asked for input. “Good,” Vanessa thought to herself. “These are the meetings where I get to show what I’m worth.” -- She was eyeing a promotion. She didn’t mind being Leanne’s assistant. In fact, she quite enjoyed it. But really she would love to be part of an actual design team, making the real work happen. Her studies, however, having primary been focussed on bussiness and not much on marketing, let alone graphic design, didn’t really allow her to jump straight into such a job. She when she got offered the opportunity to work at a young company, surrounded by people that were mostly in her age group, and was promised that if she proved her worth they would consider moving her onto one of the design teams, she figured it was worth a good opportunity and she ought to take it.
“Hey Vanessa, do you want to go get lunch together?” Leanne asked her. It was time for lunch, and there was about 1.5 hour left until the big meeting. It was probably good to go outside and get some fresh air. “Sure, usual spot?” “Yes, today is pumpkin soup day!”. Somehow, whenever Leanne was stressed, pumpkin soup was her go-to comfort food. Vanessa didn’t care for it much, but she’d just get a sandwich. Leanne needed some comfort right about now.
And so they got into the elevator. The company wasn’t big enough to have its own elevator, but they shared a floor in a large office building. The building they were in had 10 floors, and 2 elevator shafts. They were on the 5th floor, and there were 2 other companies sharing the floor with them. Each company’s offices had their own entrances though, and they had their own space. It wasn’t an office share. The only spaces they shared with other companies were the elevators, and the toilets.
Leanne pressed the button to go down to the ground floor. They exited through the barriers, and headed slightly further into the city, to their favourite lunch place. Heany’s, it was called. It was nothing fancy, really, but they did decent soup, sandwiches and pastries, and their coffee was amazing. Leanne ordered pumpkin soup and a chicken tikka sandwich. Vanessa went for a pastrami and horseradish sandwich, and a large coffee. Vanessa loved this place’s coffee. It was pretty expensive, with a large cup coming in at £5, but what you got in return was a half litre cup of utterly amazing coffee to sip away at. They took their orders, and went to sit down at a small table.
Leanne was a 28 year old blach haired lady. She was slim, and extremely pretty, Vanessa thought. Despite never wearing make-up, Leanne always looked like she was ready to take on the world. Everything from her confident smile to her business casual dress just reinforced the impression. Presently was one of those few moments where Vanessa could see straight though Leanne, however, and could see how nervous she really was. Not that she held it against Leanne, though. Today was a big day for Leanne and the business she had started just 3 years prior. Vanessa really admired her. As such, Vanessa tried to copy some of the traits she so admired about Vanessa. Vanessa was a brunette, and while she didn’t quite have the perfect waist-to-body ratio Leanne possesed, and didn’t quite have the confidence nor the skin to notfeel the need to put on make-up, physically she was decidedly quite attractive. It was the body language that she really had a hard time getting down, however. Leanne always seemed so confident and in control of of her movements, while Vanessa felt like in comparison she was just a bit clunky and couldn’t quite get the confident look down.
They both finished lunch, and got ready to head back out to the office. “Hold on, just gotta use the bathroom real quick”, said Leanne. And she headed towards one of the many public bathrooms that were now available.
2028 was a pretty good year to be alive. The economy had bounced back from the depression caused by the COVID-19 pandemic much faster than most experts had anticipated, and after having been locked up in their homes for over a year the population had gotten more acquainted with technology being a bigger part of their lives. Most companies had become a lot more liberal with working from home policies, allowing employees to work from home 2-3 days a week with no questions asked as long as work got done and meetings were attended. On top of this, hygiene standards were improved quite a bit, and to the deligh of almost every woman in Europe, public toilets had become plentiful. As societies had slowly been re-opening after the pandemic, a pretty... annoying problem had come to light. As first shops, then restaurants, and then eventually pubs had been allowed to re-open, there were (and still are) quite strict requirements in place about staff and customers not being allowed to use the same bathrooms to prevent customers from contaminating staff. This sounds pretty sane, except up until that point most places had not been designed around this idea and had a single bathroom for staff and customers alike. As it wasn’t quite feasible to ask staff to hold off on nature’s call for 8-9 hours, businesses had pretty much unanymously made the decision to keep their bathrooms for staff only, and to no longer allow use of bathroom facilities by customers. This proved to be... problematic. While from a hygiene requirement, this makes perfect sense, this is London we’re talking about. Most people that walk around London’s streets don’t live in the city centre. To make matters worse, the few public bathrooms that London had available at the time had mostly been closed down due to concerns over drug addicts and homeless people, and the few that remained open had absolutely insane queueing times, to the point where many that were in need usually did not make it in time. Men had taken to peeing against trees, or where there was a lack thereof, buildings. Women, on the other hand, tries to find a discrete place to take care of business, but in a busy city like London this wasn’t as straightforward as it may sound. On top of this, public orination was an offence, and police weren’t keen on making exceptions.
To get around this problem, it was clear that a large amount of public toilet facilities would be needed. Many of the existing public toilets had been shut down due to concerns over drug addicts, homeless people, and just the cost of keeping them clean throughout the day, so something new was needed. And something new did arrive. Presently, London had an abundance of public toilets, as did most of the rest of Europe. The system had originally been developed and rolled out in Germany (Vanessa couldn’t help but be a bit proud of her home country for this), and had spread quickly as governments all throughout Europe saw how well it worked. To enter one of the many new public toilets, you had to scan your identity card. This opened the door, and you could take care of business. Toilets were clean, well-maintained, and were really even quite luxurious. Some of these public toilets facilities even had shower rooms in them. So how come abuse wasn’t a concern for these facilities? Well, first of all, in order to enter you needed to scan your identity card. The door opens, you can take care of your business, and exit. When you exit, nobody else is allowed in for a few seconds. During this time, several cameras that are in the toilet space take pictures, and an algorithm decides if the toilet was left in a clean state. If it was, the light outside goes green, and the next person can scan their ID in order to enter. If the algorithm decides the room was not left in a clean state, or isn’t quite sure, however, someone who’s job it is to sit behind a computer all day and inspect pictures of public toilets gets sent the pictures and has to make a judgement call. Once she decides everything is in order, the light goes green and the next person can scan their ID. If they decide, however, that the toilet was not left in an acceptable state, the entire toilet facility (which may comprise of several separate spaces with toilets in them) gets shut down until someone is sent to clean the place back up. More importantly, however, the “toilet pass” that is on the identity card of the last person to go in gets voided, and they are no longer able to make use of any of the public toilet facilities that make use of the system (which, in this case, means a pretty large part of Europe).
Every now and then the people who have to look at the pictures all day take a while to make up their minds, but overall the system works extremely well, and hence it was very quickly rolled out. It was so successful, in fact, that it was even made available to private businesses wanting to decrease the load on their cleaning staff. As a result, most businesses that by now have toilets available for the public used the same system. As a matter of fact, so did the office building Vanessa and Leanne spent their days in. The system was centrally managed, highly effective at preventing abuse, and very cost-effective for governments and businesses alike.
Presently, Leanne scanned her ID and the door opened. A few minutes later, she came back out and they headed back to the office together. On the way back, Vanessa was still sipping her huge cup of coffee.
When they got back to the office, they quickly went into Leanne’s office to read over their notes one last time, and then their potential new customers arrived and they all headed into the meeting room. The company they were dealing with sells sports equipment. Everything from skis and basket balls to ballet shoes and sports bras. “So... I imagine you’re familiar with our business to some extent, and have at leats seen our current logo around.” the man said, smiling kindly. He was a blonde man in his early 30s, wearing a suit. He was accompanied by a black-haired woman around his age with dark brown skin, wearing formal attire. “We’re looking for a company to first of all design us a new logo and a new website. We’re not looking for a refresh, we’re thinking to go with something completely new. If we’re happy with what we get, we’ll be back looking for billboards with a strong possibility of more work to come your way in the future.” Vanessa was yet again amazed by how cool and composed Leanne appeared. The meeting was set to go on for a long time. Leanne was showing customers some drafts of logos and website designs she had the design teams come up with, and they were brainstorming. Vanessa meanwhile was doing her job trying to keep up with the conversation and keeping notes. About an hour into the meeting, however, this was starting to get ever more difficult. She by no means had a small bladder, but she had neglected to take a bathroom break at lunch, and she was really starting to regret that now. She could really feel that large cup of coffee going down to her bladder, and was starting to feel quite anxious about that 50cl bottle of water she had downed just before lunch.
“Vanessa, what do you think?” Vanessa panicked. Leanne was asking her opinion about something, but she had lost track of the conversation ,being distracted by the loud signals her bladder was sending her. “Ehh...” she stammered. Leanne frowned, and asked “Blue, to instill a feeling of peace, or green, to remind people of nature?” Vanessa looked at the logo design they had been discussing. “Personally I’d be in favour of using a pastel green, to combine both of those qualities. Do you think that would be a good idea?” Vanessa and the other two considered this for a moment. “Yes... yes... I think that might work, but we’d need something else in there to provide a bit of contrast, then. Pastel colours alone don’t work well when printed on a white background.”, said Leanne. And they continued brainstorming. Vanessa continued taking notes, but about half an hour later she could definitely say she was absolutely desperate. She was fidgeting with her pen constantly, wiggling her now tightly crossed legs, and finding it hard to remain focused. The worst thing was, she had no idea how long this meeting was still going to go on for. It would go on until either the customer was happy and awareded them the contract, or the deal was off the table, she imagined. She wanted to ask Leanne discreetly if she could please be excused to use the restrooms, but she knew that despite them getting along well and Leanne treating her quite well, in this particular case Leanne would really not appreciate it. She needed Vanessa there to take notes, give the occasional bit of input, and, Vanessa suspected, Leanne’s nerves and a need for moral support right now had something to do with it too. Vanessa wanted to be there for Leanne, as well as not miss out on a potential opportunity to advance her own career in the process. But she was really going to need to relieve herself. Soon.
In the 20 minutes that followed she was asked for her input a few more times. She thought she managed to do alright, despite not really being able to give the topics her full attention. By this point, however, she was starting to feel like she may not have a choice. She would either need to be excused to use the restroom, or she may actually wet herself during a business meeting. She was fidgeting a lot by now, constantly crossing and uncrossing her legs, sitting slightly bent forward, tapping her foot, and every now and then drawing deep breaths. It helped her hold on, somewhat, but Leanne had started shooting her annoyed glances. Vanessa understood, this was probably driving her nuts and really distracting her, as well as just giving off a bad impression, but frankly Vanessa didn’t have a choice. Finally, there was a short period if silence in the meeting. They had just agreed on a logo design and colour scheme they could work with. Vanessa grabbed her chance and asked “Would anyone care for some coffee?”, thinking it would give her an excuse to get out of the meeting room and make a run for the restroom. “No thanks, maybe later.” “I’m good, thank you.” “No, thank you, Vanessa.” said the man, the woman and Leanne respectively. Vanessa considered her options. She really didn’t have any. She was desperate, unable to sit still, and wetting herself if she tried to hold on much longer was becoming a real possibility. “Leanne, do you think we could take a short break? I could really use a trip to the ladies’.”, Vanessa pleaded. She was looking at Leanne while posing the question, trying to make it clear with her eyes that this was an honest emergency. Leanne looked annoyed, and responded “We’ve just hit a milestone, I say we keep the momentum going. Unless our guests feel like they would like a short break, perhaps?” She looked at the prospects. “Honestly, a break sounds lovely. My brain is starting get a bit fried I’m being totally honest.”, the man said. Vanessa’s terror at Leanne’s response turned into relied. Oh my goodness. She would get to a toilet at last. “- However, We’d just like to discuss one last thing before we take a break.” Vanessa’s heart sank. The woman started talking about the website, asking what sorts of technologies the firm was familiar with, whether they’d need to hire an external consultant for search engine optimisation or whether this would be taken care of in-house, what about servers space, ... Vanessa wanted to... honestly, she didn’t know what she wanted to do. She wanted to cry. She wanted to be able to shove a hand between her legs. She wanted to run out of that meeting room and get to a toilet. She wanted to pee. Now.
Vanessa kept taking notes, kept figgeting, kept dancing in her seat, and was breathing heavily by this stage due to the effort of holding her bladder. She knew she was probably being extremely obnoxious. She knew Leanne would not be impressed with the way she was unable to keep her composure. Some part of her worried about all this, but another part of her was more worried about the large volume of urine that was attacking her bladder from the inside. “Ok, that’s settled. I must say, miss, I’m very impressed with all the technical know-how you seem to have both personally as well as within your company, for such a small, young company.” “Thank you, we try our hardest to get a hold of the very best people for the job.”, Leane said, smiling confidently. They got up from their seats, and Vanessa followed suit. Vanessa knew the drill. She escored them out of the meeting room, and into the open-plan office, after which she went to the kitchen to make coffee for everyone. The moment she turned around the corner of the wall loosely separating the kitchen from the rest of the office she grabbed herself and danced on the spot. “Oh my god... Oh my god...” she whispered under her breath, a hand firmly shoved between the legs of her light blue chinos. Slowly, she regained some of her composure (only some, nobody could see her right now anyway), and walked to the coffee machine. “Just a few more minutes...” she told herself. “Just a few more minutes, and then you’ll be able to excuse yourself to use the bathroom.” She took a cup out of the cupboard, put it under the coffee machine, and pressed the button. The sound of the coffee machine grinding beans and... coffee hitting the cup. She started dancing more frantically, putting two fingers back between her legs. She put the cup of coffee to the side, put another empty cup beneath the machine, and pressed the button. The sound of fresh coffee hitting the cup affected her less this time, but she still wiggled and danced around on the spot. At that moment, James came around the corner, and she quickly regained her composure. “Hey,” James said. “So how’s that meeting going?” “Quite well,” Vanessa responded. “They seem really happy with what we’re proposing.” She tried to keep still but could not help fidgeting and rythmically squeezing her pelvis and bending her knees slightly. “Are you... ok?” James asked. “Uh-huh.” “... Are you sure?” “Uh-huh.” She crossed her legs. “Do you need to use the bathroom?” “Maybe.” “Been stuck in that meeting room for too long, huh?” “Yes, and I didn’t use the bathroom since about an hour before I went to lunch. I’ve been absolutely bursting for over an hour now. I just need to make some coffee, bring it over, and then I can go.”, she said to James. “Leanne can be a bit of a hard-ass when it comes to simple things like this, can’t she?” “She really can be. I asked her if I could be excused to use the restroom and she basically refused me. It’s only because the prospects said they’d like a short break too. I genuinely don’t know what I would’ve done had they not.” “Yikes. That bad, eh?” “YES.” And she started dancing around frantically again. She was a bit embarrassed, but the jig was up now anyway. James had noticed, unsurprisingly. “Be back in a sec...”, she murmured as she took the two cups of coffee out to the prospects and came back into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee for Leanne. She herself would gladly pass on coffee this time around. “Do you think you would’ve made it another hour or so?” James asked tentatively. Vanessa found the question rather direct, but didn’t think much more of it said said “Not a chance. If I don’t get to the bathroom soon I am quite sure I will actually wet myself.” She pressed the button on the coffee machine. James looked at her for a few seconds and said “Honestly, I know. Long meetings are the worst, and I get caught out too every now and then.” She didn’t know what to say to that. Not hugely, but she found this conversation a little bit embarrassing to be having, especially in the kitchen at work.
She hadn’t been paying attention. She coffee hit the cup. She doubled over, crossing her legs, shoving her hand between her legs, and a little spurt escaped her bladder. Chills ran down her entire body. She very much took this to mean “Final warning. Get to a toilet. Now.” she didn’t wait for the coffee machine to finish and took the cup out from under it, bring the 3/4 filled cup of coffee over to Leanne without looking back at James. Her movements were brisk. She handed Leanne her cup of coffee and said “Excuse me, I’ll be back in a minute.” before fast-walking to the bathroom. She exited the office, walked through the door to the shared bathroom facilities, and with her left hand firmly pressed between her legs scanned her ID to open a cubicle and danced her way inside the cubicle. It was taking all her might to hold on long enough to allow herself to pull down her trowsers, and the moment she had plopped down on the toilet she let go. A powerful waterfall erupted out of her, and for the first 20 seconds or so she felt like the pressure on her bladder was not reducing in the slighest. Once the feeling of pressure on her bladder started to subside, she just sat there in utter bliss for a while, all the while her bladder throbbing, legs shaking, and vagina... tingling, strangely? She peed for a solid 50 seconds, her stream being very forceful all the way until the end. Even when she’d finished for a minute or two she just sat there, her heart racing, the area around her bladder throbbing, and her legs too weak and shaky to get up.
When she got back into the office, Leanne told her “Good, you’re back.” and they went back into the meeting room to close the rest of the deal. |
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