Search the Community

Showing results for tags 'Male'.

  • Search By Tags

    Type tags separated by commas.
  • Search By Author

Content Type


Forums

  • Omorashi
    • Omorashi general
    • Omutsu general
    • Wetting experiences
    • Artwork and doujinshi
    • Fiction and fanfiction
    • Interactive stories
    • Video links and uploads
  • General
    • Bug reports
    • Off-topic discussion
    • Anime discussion
    • Guidance and counseling
    • Debate zone
    • Forum games
  • RolePlaying
    • Roleplaying realm
    • Roleplaying recruitment & discussion

Categories

  • Omorashi Doujinshi & Eroge
    • Doujinshi Archives
    • Artwork and CG Sets
    • Visual Novels
    • RPGs
    • Flash Games / Misc
  • Anime / Animated Clips
  • Female Wetting
    • Pants Wetting
    • Skirt Wetting
    • Shorts Wetting
    • Panty Wetting
    • Pajama Wetting
    • Swimsuit Wetting
    • Cosplay Wetting
  • Female Diaper Play & Wetting
  • Male Wetting
    • Pants Wetting
    • Shorts Wetting
    • Underwear Wetting
    • Pajama Wetting
    • Swimsuit Wetting
    • Cosplay Wetting
  • Male Diaper Play & Wetting

Categories

  • Articles

Found 1,757 results

  1. Okay guys, here's my thread :D I know that a lot of people want to see more bulges, myself included, so here's a thread for exactly that. I'll try and upload my own photos once or twice a week, in different outfits and the like :) Also, everyone is welcome, male, female, anyone :) (Even cats, Rini) Rules of this thread; Feel free to post your own bulges; the more the merrier! However, please refrain from uploading photos you've found on the internet. I'm trying to encourage participation from the members on the site, so yeah. Anyway, to start our ball rolling, here's a photo I took a few days ago. Please enjoy my thread! xo Kay
  2. Female

    Hi Everyone! I'm Lily. I'm a 29 year old female who is into omorashi...obviously. I'm 5'7". Approximately 132lbs. I have dark brown hair and blue eyes. Today I'm going to tell you about my favorite early omorashi childhood memory. I have A LOT of memories in addition to this one. Some memories are about myself and others are about friends I had growing up. I even have memories during my 20s that I could eventually share. I'm going to start with my favorite, but that doesn't mean the other memories aren't great either! Please reply to this post and share your favorite early memory too! In fact, here's the deal: the more replies I get of people telling me their own memories, the more updates I will add to this post telling additional memories I have. Okay here we go with the first one. This story is 100% true. I tired to recall the dialogue as best as I could. During my elementary school years, I had a best friend. Her name was Charlotte. Charlotte had blonde hair, blue eyes, and an average build. Practically everyday after school, I would go over to Charlotte's house to play. Her house was literally right around the corner from our elementary school, whereas, my house was a good 6 blocks. Also, my mother worked full time when I was a child and she wouldn't get off work until around 5pm and school ended for us around 3:00pm. Because of my mother's work hours, Charlotte's mother agreed to watch me after school until my mother could pick me up. On the day of this particular memory in question, our class at school had a Halloween party. We were in the 2nd grade and both Charlotte and I were 7 years old. Our school parties were also at the end of the day. We'd do our school work until the last couple of hours of the school day and then the remainder of the day would be devoted to eating sugary snacks, listening to music and drinking a ton of liquids (party). It seemed that every party was catered with the same beverage: gallon jugs of sugary orange drink. Thinking back on it, I can recall the sickeningly sweet fake orange taste, but at the time, I loved it and I would drink cups and cups of the stuff during any chance I got. Keep in mind, Charlotte was my best friend, so during the party we naturally were inseparable and during the course of the party hours, I got an eye witness account of her downing about 6-7 cups of the orange drink. Since it was a Halloween party, we were both dressed in costumes. I was a black cat that year; which meant I was wearing black stretch pants and a tight black top (along with a headband with ears and face paint). Charlotte was an angel. She was wearing a cream colored gown with a homemade halo made of wire and Christmas garland. Underneath her gown, her mother made her wear a pair of pink leggings in case her gown flew up as she was playing and running around. She was also wearing a matching pink top to match the leggings. I remember during the party Charlotte kept complaining that her costume was hot. Looking back, I think that's one of the reasons she drank so much of the orange drink. Right before our school party ended and it was time to go home, I told Charlotte I was going to ask the teacher if I could run across the hallway to the restroom to go pee because I had to go pretty bad from drinking so much myself. I asked Charlotte if she wanted to come with me, but she said no. She was engrossed in running around and playing with our other friends, eating candy, and dancing to the silly Halloween music like, "Monster Mash". She told me she had to pee a little, but would wait until she got home and she'd be okay because her house was so close. I said, "fine" and got permission from the teacher to go to the bathroom. I walked across the hallway to the bathroom, peed, and came back to our classroom all right away. By the time I got back to the classroom, the parents were arriving to pick their children up to go home. Charlotte's mother was among them. Charlotte's mother told us to gather our things so that we could leave. Charlotte and I walked over to our desks to gather up all our candy and party favors and I saw that Charlotte was holding her crotch. I asked her about it and she said, "I need to go pee pretty bad now, but I don't feel like going now. I can wait til we get home." I said, "okay." We then finished gathering our things and we left shortly after with Charlotte's mother. During the short walk to her house, Charlotte seemed really animated. She stopped a couple of times to do a little dance and one time when her mother wasn't paying attention (walking in front of us), Charlotte stopped for a second and grabbed her crotch really tight. I asked her if she was okay and she said, "My pee feels like it's about to come out. I need to pee pee so bad now." I just replied that we are almost home and she could make it to the bathroom. When we got to her house and inside her door, Charlotte immediately removed her costume claiming once again that she was hot. She threw her costume down on the floor in the foyer. This left her wearing her pink leggings and pink top only. Right after she took her costume off, she proceeded toward the bathroom on the 1st floor. Before she could make it to the bathroom, her mother called out, "Charlotte, come into the kitchen and look what I bought for you." Charlotte stopped midway in her tracks and ran into the kitchen instead. I followed her. When we arrived into the kitchen, we saw that what her mother wanted to show her was a new dress she'd bought for Charlotte that day. She told us the dress was what she wanted Charlotte to wear to an upcoming party their family was going to for one of their family friends. She told us to take the dress up to Charlotte's room and place it on the dresser and she would be up in a little while to have Charlotte try it on. The whole time we were in the kitchen, Charlotte couldn't keep still very well. She kept jumping up and down and doing little dance moves. She refrained from holding her crotch though. My assumption is she didn't want her mother to know how bad she had to pee because her mother would have scolded her for not using the restroom before leaving school. Her mother made no comment on Charlotte's movements. I guess she assumed she was hyperactive from all the sugar at the Halloween party. After leaving the kitchen, Charlotte and I immediately started to head up to her bedroom. Halfway up the stairs, Charlotte dropped to her knees dramatically, made the sound of sucking air with her teeth and started to whimper. I was ahead of her on the stairs. I heard the thud of her dropping to her knees and the sounds she was making and stopped to look back at her. She looked up at me wide eyed and said in a shocked voice, "I peed a little bit." I replied shocked as well, "You peed your pants?" She said back hesitantly, "Not really. Just peed a tiny bit in my panties. My leggings don't feel wet." I told her that she better get up and get to the bathroom before she peed more. Her comeback was, "Hold on a sec, Lily. I just need to sit here a minute and hold myself." I then watched her proceed to position her leg so that she was sitting down hard on her ankle. She sat on her ankle and rocked back and forth, sucking in air the whole time. She did this for a good while and then all of a sudden she took both her hands and grabbed onto her crotch and held on for what felt like a whole 30 seconds. The whole time she was sitting there rocking and holding her crotch she was looking down at herself holding herself. She was also making little whimpering noises here and there. Then finally she said, "Okay. I'm better now." Charlotte raised herself from the stairs and continued to climb up to the 2nd floor. When we got to the 2nd floor she grabbed herself again really tight and said almost panicky, "Come on, let's hurry up and put this dress in my room." We walked into her bedroom and she frantically threw the dress on top of her dresser. Immediately after that, she stood up straight and got really ridged and grabbed her crotch again very tight. She then crossed her legs and did a sort of dance where she was walking backward clumsily and called out to me in a voice that sounded like she was on the verge of crying, "I'm going to pee pee in my pants. Lily, I'm going to pee my pants. I can't hold it anymore. I have to pee too bad. Lily, what am I going to do? I'm going to have an accident." I thought for sure she was going to pee her pants right there on the spot, but she gained control after a minute. She kept standing there though holding her crotch. She seemed unable to move for awhile. Finally, she started to walk toward the bathroom with her hand in her crotch. She walked a few paces and then stopped. She crouched down, sucking in some more air. She stood back up, walked some more, and stopped again. She looked at me pleadingly and said, "I don't think I can make it to the potty, Lily. My pee is starting to come out again." I replied with, "Maybe if you run, you can still make it." She looked at me and said, "Okay." Charlotte ran out of her room while holding her crotch. I followed her as she ran to the 2nd floor bathroom. I walked out of her bedroom and halfway down the hall toward the bathroom myself. I saw Charlotte run into the bathroom and collapse on the bathroom floor. She did not close the door because she was in such a hurry. She was sitting on the bathroom floor on her knees with her legs sprawled out behind her. She was wiggling furiously and whimpering as she was wiggling. Then all of a sudden, Charlotte got extremely still and I heard a faint hissing sound and the sound of her start to cry. I yelled out to her and asked her what was wrong and between sniffling she called back, "I'm peeing in my pants and I can't stop." And she couldn't stop indeed. The hissing was so loud and so strong and the puddle was growing so big that I was standing there in silent awe watching it happen. Charlotte continued to pee and pee. She didn't say anything more, but looked down at her lap watching herself flood her leggings. Finally she was done. She stood up and her pink leggings were soaked in the back and the front. There was also the biggest puddle I'd ever seen on the bathroom floor. Her face was also bright red and tear streaked. She looked at me and said, "I'm sorry. I had to pee so bad and it just came out. I tried to stop it, but I couldn't." I just shrugged. Soon after that, she changed and we told her mother what happened. Her mother was understanding because well...accidents happen. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Okay. Now let's hear your memories!
  3. Welcome everybody! Night of the Omorashi is an Interactive Story-Game with only one goal... to survive! Game/Story Mechanics As we go through the game, there will be many mechanics, but the most important ones are: Health - The lifeblood of our character. Make sure it stays above 0 though, or its game over! Stamina - As we do actions, our stamina will decrease. Be careful if it gets too low though because you will need it if you get into a pinch. Likewise, when our character sleeps or is doing nothing our stamina will increase. Bladder - Shouldn't need much explanation... it is what we are all here for after all ;). Our Maximum Capacity will vary depending on a combination of our Health, Stamina and the situation we find ourselves in... so be careful Hunger/Thirst - Throughout the story, our character will need to eat and drink! Don't worry though, By keeping this stat maintained you will be able to keep your Health, Stamina and Bladder up. In addition certain foods and drinks can provide unique bonuses! Inventory - Every game needs some sort of inventory! Our inventory is based off of slots with all the items we carry taking up a slot. These slots however are not hard limits, we can carry over them but going over will incur hits to our stamina In addition to this, this we also have several other passive mechanics and statistics which don't need to be micro-managed like the above. These will come up from time to time, but I will make sure to mention their rules every time they show up. Actions & Voting Rules As in other Interactive Stories, as we go through the plot, there will be default options to bring you give you some immediate ideas of what can be done, but ultimately everything that our character(s) do is up to you, the players. As the auther/GM I will be giving you guys enough time to debate and select what you want to do and won't begin the following sequence until either enough people have voted, a clear majority has passed, or until a set time limit. Votes will be tallied by a simple democratic majority and if you guys wish, you may even choose multiple things to do. =========================================================================================================================== =========================================================================================================================== Character Creation Like every good game, we start by creating our character. Be careful, Every option here will effect the game in some capacity either through increased/decreased capabilities or different scenarios Choice One: Difficulty Level / Bladder Capacity - Easy (High Bladder Capacity) - Medium (Moderate Bladder Capacity) - Hard (Low Bladder Capacity) Choice Two: Select our Gender - Male - Female (Recommended) Choice Three: Select our Age Range (Effects starting location) - Teen (18) (Recommended) - Adult (24) Choice Four: Select our Focus - Intelligence (Has more options available at their disposal with a higher chance of being able to successfully pull them off) - Physique (Higher Stamina and Health) Choice Five: What do we look like? - Hair Length/Style: (Short/Long) - Natural Hair Colour: (Blonde/Brunette/Red/Auburn/Black) - Eye Colour: (Blue/Brown/Green/ect) - Height: Tall/Short - Bust Size: (Large/Medium/Small) - Clothing Optional: Anything else you may want An example may be if you have a specific name you would like... maybe you want us to have a certain quirk. This choice is completely optional and is all up to you. If nobody selects anything, no worry I have defaults all planned out. - Name - Quirks - Underwear Colour - Favourite Colour - Phobias
  4. Had to go so bad I started before I could start filming IMG_0635.MOV
  5. It was a terrible thing to do, but I couldn't help it. He was a bully, and everyone hated him. But, when he fell through the ice and drowned, we all went to his funeral. Maybe we just wanted to get out of a half day of school. Anyway, there was a big crowd at the funeral. We stood in line and paid our respects to his parents, whom most of us had never seen and would never see again. Then we sat quietly around the room and talked. Occasionally we mentioned the reason for our being there, but not often. He just wasn't a pleasant memory. They had a good spread of eats in the back room, so we all eventually migrated in that direction. Someone got thirsty and opened the refrigerator and discovered several cases of beer. Beer at a funeral? No way. But there it was, cold and inviting. Of course, high schoolers aren't supposed to imbibe, so we discreetly spirited a case into the men's room, and converted it into urine. No one got shit faced. One guy knocked off four, I had three, and two or three seemed about the limit for everyone else. When it was time for the funeral to start, we dutifully drained our bladders, popped a breath mint, and went back to where the service would be. It was a nice service, as funerals go. Several people said nice things about the dearly departed -- all lies, of course -- but it sounded nice. A recorded soprano screeched out "Amazing Grace," and we all filed out to get in our cars. It took a while to carry out those thousands of dollars of wilting flowers, but finally we headed out to the cemetery. Some idiot decided to take us all by the school, and then their house, so it took half an hour or so to reach the cemetery, which was five minutes away. As we walked up to the grave, some funeral guys handed each one of us a flower. What a waste; but what the hey? It wasn't my money. Someone suggested that we were expected to place the flowers on the casket, which turned out to be the case. If a prayer's value be measured by its length, the preacher surely got an "A." It think he even mentioned the dearly departed a time or two. Then there was a shaking of hands and whispers of sympathy to those favored with seats for the ordeal. The funeral director handed the preacher an envelope, and patted him on the shoulder. Then, it was time to file by the grave and lay our flowers on the casket. Family first, then friends, then the rest of us. As we had hung back from the funeral tent, we were among the last to file by. By this time, my three beers had metamorphosed into urine and quite filled my bladder. Nearing the grave, I realized the ludicrous irony of thinking about my bladder, instead of the guy in the box. The dis-inhibiting effect of beer got to me at the graveside, and as I lay my flower on the casket, I burst out laughing so hard I peed my pants. Of course, there is nothing like warm pee running down your legs to make you laugh harder, so, as everyone turned to stare at the fool by the grave, I emptied three cans of erstwhile beer down my legs and into the grave. By the time we got to the car, everyone was laughing historically. When we finally got ourselves somewhat under control and able into get into the car, we drove to my house so I could change, and everyone else could pee properly in the toilet. In an hour we were back at school, but not before everyone had heard the story. It was several days before the catcalls of "I Piss on your grave," died down, but my reputation was made. Suddenly, I had friends I never knew about. After all, I was the guy who got the best of the bully.
  6. Second YOI fic. I read something on tumblr I think where somebody wanted something like this written. Enjoy! It wouldn't be long now until he had to get on the ice. To prepare, Viktor was helping him with a few last minute stretches. They had cameras on them so despite wanting to run to the bathroom quickly before performing, Yuuri couldn't really slip away. He'd been struggling with getting away from the cameras long enough to go all afternoon, but he hadn't managed yet. Upon easing into a split, Yuuri felt his urge increase and a small blush grow over his face. It wasn't too bad yet but Yuuri's nerves were completely shot from the stress of performing. Yuuri had a bit of a nervous bladder. It was an issue his previous coach was aware of but he'd neglected to mention it to Viktor due to his embarrassment. He knew it would come out eventually but until he started feeling a little more comfortable with Viktor he wasn't sure he could stomach the idea of mentioning such a personal problem.Viktor helped Yuuri out of his split and ran one of his hands over the younger skaters warm cheek. With a small smile Viktor spoke. "Are you ready?" There was only 2 or 3 minutes left before the performance and Yuuri felt his anxiety begin to peak. He pressed his thighs together tightly as his urge built. With a short glance toward the hall which lead to the bathrooms, Yuuri nodded. There was no time left to go now.Viktor felt his own nervousness peak at the slight hesitancy Yuuri seemed to be displaying. He didn't want to unsettle Yuuri, but he could sense something being off. "You seem tense. Are you sure you're ok?"Yuuri shifted his hips a little and glanced at the ground. "Yeah, I just.." Yuuri hesitated slightly before learning forward and whispering into Viktor's ear, "I sort of really need the bathroom."Yuuri's blush grew and Viktor bit his lip. There wasn't enough time. "Can you hold it through the performance?"Yuuri shifted a little and nodded slowly. He wasn't completely sure of himself but he didn't have much choice.Viktor pulled Yuuri into a hug. "We"ll hurry to go right after the kiss and cry ok?"Yuuri nodded, pulled away from Viktor, and skated out onto the ice. The music began and Yuuri let his body be pulled into the routine.Yuuri tried his best to forget his bladder as he skated to eros. For the first half he was fairly successful too. The movement seemed to be helping. As he entered the spread eagle though he lost a small spurt. This surprised him and he faltered slightly on the jump immediately after.He hoped the wet patch wasn't noticeable. From the sidelines Viktor winced a little at the flub. He felt a tinge of guilt for not noticing Yuuri had to go earlier. As he was viewing Yuuri's performance though, he noticed an intriguing side effect of the young skaters desperation. All the moves which involved his hips, butt and pelvis were suddenly much more pronounced and alluring. That alone would probably make up for the lost points on the spin.Yuuri felt his heart pounding in his chest. He could channel the fearful energy into his skating but he was genuinely concerned about being able to hold it. He managed luckily. After the performance he quickly jetted off the ice, clenching his fists at his side to keep from holding himself on live TV."Yuuri! That performance was amazing!" Viktor smiled. Yuuri sheepishly returned a grin. Once off the ice, Yuuri nuzzled his face into Viktor's shoulder. He was relieved he'd done well but he couldn't stay still anymore. Yuuri wanted to know his score but wasn't sure he could hold it long enough to see. "Viktor..." Yuuri whined quietly.Viktor frowned and pulled Yuuri a little closer, suddenly feeling protective of the vulnerable young skater. Softly, Viktor whispered, "Can you hold it?"Yuuri's breath hitched as he felt another small leak. "I don't know..."Viktor cursed softly in Russian before planting a small kiss on Yuuri's forehead. "It's ok Yuuri, just go, I'll watch the score for you. I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner."Yuuri didn't have time to think of a response. Instead he simply hurried backstage to relieve himself. Viktor set off to the kiss and cry and smiled when he saw Yuuri's score. They were currently in first place! Given Yuuri's handicap during the performance, Viktor was quite happy. He'd definately secured a spot in the next round. A few minutes later Viktor began growing concered. Yuuri was taking a long time to come back. Viktor felt a blush grow over his cheeks as he imagined a worst case scenario. It wouldn't be good for Yuuri's self esteem if he had an accident. Viktor resigned himself to checking in on Yuuri in 5 minutes.Yuuri chocked back a sob. He was standing in front of the toilet squirming desperately as he failed to unzip his costume. The stupid thing was hard to reach in the first place. He realized now it was stuck too. There was no way he'd be able to get it without help. Yuuri tried to steady his breathing. He was holding himself tightly now as he opened the stall to go out and get help. Viktor was startled when he saw Yuuri reappear in the stadium. He ran over quickly trying to figure out what was wrong. Poor Yuuri had been away for 15 minutes and still hadn't managed to go. He was shaking visibly and it was clear he had been crying. Viktor quickly hid the younger man from the view of the cameras and ushered him back to the bathroom."What's wrong? Why haven't you gone yet?" Viktor looked Yuuri up and down quickly trying to find any clues.Frantically squirming Yuuri stuttered out. "The zi.. zipper is st.. stuck!"Viktor stiffened and quietly swore again in russian. He quickly pushed Yuuri into a stall and worked on unzipping his costume. Yuuri's desperate squirming made the task difficult. The zipper really was stuck.Viktor growled and turned Yuuri to face him before simply pushing him down to sit on the toilet. Yuuri's eyes watered and he fought agaist Viktor to stand. Viktor kept his hands firmy planted on Yuuri's shoulders."I can't undo the zipper Yuuri. Just go and I'll get you something else to wear. I don't want you to hurt yourself." Yuuri crossed his legs and shook his head. "Please people will know if I come out wearing some thing else." He pressed his hands between his thighs. He was leaking constantly now. Viktor sighed and let Yuuri back up. He tried again on the zipper for a few minutes before it finally gave. Just as Viktor got it loose though Yuuri froze. The sound of liquid hitting tile sounded ten times louder in the empty bathroom. Viktor's heart clenched at the sound. There wasn't much point now... To minimize the mess Viktor sat Yuuri back down on the toilet. "Yuuri look at me." Viktor knew he couldn't let Yuuri beat himself up about this. It was critical for Yuuri's skating that he build his confidence. Yuuri's eyes flittered between the floor and Viktor's face for a moment before settling again on the floor.Viktor sighed and lifted Yuuri's chin so that the young skater would be forced to look up. Yuuri's stream finally tapered off in the tense quiet moment."You skated beautifully today and this has nothing to do with how I see you ok?" Viktor ran his hand through Yuuri's hair and gave him a small smile."I wet your costume.."Viktor shook his head. "Yuuri, I care about you. The costume doesn't matter to me right now. I'm going to get you some clean clothes, pick up your medal and bring you back to relax in the hotel before our flight tomorrow. Alright?"Yuuri nodded slowly. "Thank you Viktor."Viktor smiled.
  7. But also to share. I hope she enjoys. and others too. My Movie.mp4
  8. I've noticed a lot of threads about people holding it, and then posting what is happening to them as time passes. I've decided to consolidate this into a single thread in order to keep the board from getting cluttered. I will keep this short and sweet. Basically, if you're holding it right now and you want an audience, go ahead and post in this thread. Mention things such as your level of desperation and provide as many details as you can. While I would prefer all live action stuff to go in this thread, that doesn't mean you are obligated to do it. If you would rather, you could always hold it, do what needs to be done, and then post a separate thread about what happened. This is subject to change as questions and problems arise.
  9. [[Authors Note: Hello. Well, I’ve been seeing a lot of these interactive stories and participating in some of them, so I’ve decided to give it a try myself. I’ll see if there is any interest after my first post and, maybe if a few people seem to enjoy it, I’ll continue it. This story will mix combat and character based conversations, with the typical Omo.com twist of adding bladder meters to your party members. When in combat, one’s bladder (and perhaps something else if interest is shown in it) may give out, causing them to wet themselves in battle. The bladder meter will be active at all times, for both genders of character. In addition, with few exceptions, most characters can be romantically/sexually paired up. This story will be based on the Fire Emblem series of games, with original characters. Character classes and appearances will be based on Fire Emblem series, specifically FE: Awakening and FE: Fates. In addition, stats will be loosely based on games. The Strength stat concerns all physical based attacks. Magic concerns all magical attacks. Defense concerns one’s ability to absorb physical damage. Resistance concerns one’s ability to absorb magic attacks. To make combat more simple, the speed and skill stats will not be used. The Luck stat, however, will be used, and will dictate critical attacks and one’s ability to catch themselves if they are about to wet themselves in battles. All party members will have an unique stat, which will be unexplained, but may help them depending on certain situations. Health will not be visible for the fight and will rather be displayed as a status condition. In addition, combat will be considered ‘casual’ by Fire Emblem standards, as party members do not die in combat and are instead knocked out. With this being said, if interest is shown, we may begin]] Three figures sit around a small fire in a clearing in a forest. The sounds of the forest ring out around them. An owl howling in the distance. The wind blowing against the trees. The fire roaring softly. Our protagonist looks up at their two companions and sighs, tired from a long day with a clear twinge in their bladder. [Pick a Protagonist, a supporter, and a mentor from the list below. Each potential character will be marked as either a protagonist, supporter, combination of the two, or a mentor.} Morrigan (Protagonist/Supporter) [the student of magic] Age: 18 Physical Description: A young looking girl with purple hair in curls. Shorter than average height, Five foot two. Covers herself with the basic blue robes of a student of magic. With pale skin and a slim build, she has equally slim breasts and a small bladder. Very modest about where she relieves herself. Background: Naturally gifted in magic and naturally able to use dark magic, Morrigan was unaware of her powers until her 13th birthday, when her normal life with her parents in a small town changed forever when she fell into a mirror. After five years that she barely recalls, her powers have became stable and powerful as she awoke in a forest. If chosen as protagonist, the Coming Home quest will be activated. Class/Starting Stats: Mage, Level 10 Strength: 0 Magic: 7+2(Magic +2) Defense: 2 Resistance: 5 Luck: 5 Cuteness: 10 Skills: Shadowfaire: Allows this unit to use dark tomes, even if not a dark mage. Magic 2+: Gains a natural +2 to magic stat. Starting equipment: Flux: Dark Magic, 60% Accuracy, 5 base damage, 10% natural crit chance Wind: Wind magic, 90% Accuracy, 1 base damage, 0% natural crit chance Ace (Protagonist/Supporter) [the sharpshooter] Age: 18 Physical Description: A young man with short, brown hair. Five foot five in height, tan skin, and an athletic build. Wears the light chainmail coat with his family crest, a gold bow with a white arrow, on his arms. He has a medium sized bladder, reserved about where he relieves himself. Background: Ace was the son of a noble family who were known for the great archers who belonged to the line. As such, Ace was trained in archery from a young age. After joining the military, Ace and his squad were sent on a mission deep into enemy territory. Ace and his squad were separated, with the rest of his squad presumed dead. If selected as protagonist, the starting mission “Mission Report” will be activated. Class/Starting stats: Archer: Level 10 Strength: 6 Magic: 1 Defense: 4 Resistance: 4 Luck:4 Focus: 10 Skills: Headshot: 30% additional chance to crit +20 Hit: Additional +20% to hit Starting Equipment: Iron Bow: A common bow: 70% Accuracy, 4 base damage, 0% natural crit chance. Vera (Protagonist)[the vengeful one] Age: 20 Physical description: A woman with half her face scarred, her long hair dyed a dark shade of pink covers the scarred half of her face. Her skin is deeply tanned, her build athletic, and her breasts firm B cups, she wears a white tank top and long black pants, which she doesn’t mind emptying her bladder into. She has a medium sized bladder, but isn’t reserved about where she empties it. Background: Vera was once a high school student in a foreign land, but after an encounter with a devious magic user, she ‘died’. However, she woke up in a forest, in an age which to her seemed distant, less advanced than what she was used to. If chosen as protagonist, the starting quest Revenga will be activated. Cannot be chosen as a supporter, as Vera follows no one. Class/Starting Stats: Samurai:: Level 10 Strength: 7 Magic: 0 Defense: 5 Resistance: 2 Luck: 3 Angst: 10 Skills: Bloodlust: Boosts all stats temporarily by 1 after successfully felling an enemy. Vantage: 20% increased chance to dodge attacks of any type. Starting Equipment: Iron Katana: A standard katana: 80% accuracy, 4 base damage, 15% natural crit chance. Rose (Protagonist/Supporter)[the loyal friend] Age: 21 Physical appearance: a young woman with long flaming red hair. With tan skin and B cup breasts covered by her suit of leather armor. She has a large bladder, but is somewhat reserved on where she releases it. Background: Vera’s best friend, after discovering that her friend was actually alive somewhere, she hunted down an associate of the man responsible and forced him to send Rose after Vera. Donning a set of plain leather armor and a straight sword to fit to her new surroundings, selecting Rose as a protagonist will activate the starting quest Vera. In addition, if she supports Vera, she will gain a different unique stat. Class/Starting Stats: Mercenary: Level 10 Strength: 8 Magic: 0 Defense: 3 Resistance 3 Luck: 3 Determination: 10 (If not supporting Vera) Persuasion: 10 (If supporting Vera) Skills: Duelist: Deals increased damage when facing a single opponent Patience: 10% increased chance to dodge and hit when enemy attacks first Starting equipment: Iron Straight Sword: A standard straight sword: 85% Accuracy, 3 base damage, 5% natural crit chance. Iron shield: A common shield used throughout the land. Kara (Supporter)[the allied knight] Age: 22 Physical description: A tall ‘women’, six feet tall, with brunette hair that reaches her shoulders. Wrapped in light plate mail that covers her dark skin. She has a large bladder and is willing to empty it anywhere, but only in front of people she trusts with her secret. Background: Kara once trained as a knight and in the way of using a lance. Though, after complications arose when trying to join the military, she joined a mercenary group. After her group was annihilated in battle, she disappeared into the woods until she found the protagonist. Has always been a follower, and therefore cannot be the protagonist. Class/Starting Stats: Knight: Level 10 Strength: 8 Magic: 0 Defense: 7+2 (Defense +2) Resistance: 1 Luck: 2 Defense: 10 Skills: Sworn Shield: 25% chance to defend the protagonist from attacks when nearby. Defense +2: Additional 2 points in Defense) Starting equipment: Spear: A lance that can be easily thrown: 70% accuracy, 3 base damage, 5% natural crit chance. Steel shield: A well made shield meant for a knight: Evans (Protagonist/Supporter)[the rogue ninja] Age: 22 Physical description: A blond haired man of average height and athletic build, clad in plain green robes. Usually keeps to himself when it comes to his private needs, unless he’s drank alcohol recently, a common event, in which case he’s usually open with it. Background: A self-taught ninja, who learned the art from a series of scrolls rather than formal teaching, His main purpose from this was to sell his skill to the highest bidder, though eventually learned of his true calling. Choosing him as the protagonist activates the starting quest Revolution. Class/starting stats: Ninja: Level 10 Strength: 4 Magic: 0 Defense: 3 Resistance: 5 Luck: 7 Cunning: 10 Skills: Acrobat: Has a 40% chance to dodge all attacks. Vanishing Act: Can disappear from enemies for a short time using smoke bombs. Starting equipment: Kunai Knives (x2): A ninja’s knife, good for close and ranged combat: 90% accuracy, 3 base damage, 40% natural crit chance Smoke bombs (x5): A small package which causes an explosion of smoke when thrown to the ground. Sif (Protagonist/Supporter)[the murder doll] Age: 19 Physical description: A small looking woman with short black hair clad in chain and cloth armor. Pale skin, making her resemble a large painted doll when not moving. Has tiny breasts and an even smaller bladder, which she will relieve whenever she pleases. Background: A skilled fighter, Sif’s doll like appearance makes her enemies underestimate her. By the time they realize their mistake, it is too late. Little is known about Sif’s past. If chosen as the protagonist, starting quest The Doll is activated. Class/Starting Stats: Spear Fighter: Level 10 Strength: 6 Magic:0 Defense: 4 Resistance: 2 Luck: 4 Brutality: 10 Skills: Merciless: 40% chance to instantly finish off an enemy when they are wounded. Lethality: 10% chance to instantly finish off an enemy. Starting equipment: Iron Nagitama: An eastern polearm: 70% accuracy, 5 base damage, 15% natural crit chance. Ciel (mentor)[the witch seer] Age: ??? Physical description: A young looking woman with short purple hair and a golden eye patch. Her purple robe and black witch hat cover her body, making it unsure what her body looks like. She also never seems to relieve herself, which means that either she can relieve herself magically or the inside of her robe is usually soaked. Background: Ciel is a witch who has forgotten how long she has known magic or been able to see into the future. All she is certain of is that the protagonist needs her assistance, whether Ciel likes it or not. Class/Starting Stats: Witch, Level 25 Strength: 2 Magic: 9 Defense: 3 Resistance: 7 Luck: 4 Wisdom: 10 Skills: Future Sight: 60% chance to avoid enemy attacks, after seeing them happen in the future. Witchcraft: 5% chance on turning enemies into small animal when attacking with dark magic Starting equipment: Nosferatu: A dark tome: 60% accuracy, 6 base damage, 5% natural crit chance, absorbs half damage dealt as health. Alice (Mentor)[the assassin’s legacy) Age: 31 Physical description: A woman with a long brown hair in a pony tail. Standing five foot ten, usually in tight leather, pressing her B cups close to her body, she is more concerned about who sees her relieve her medium sized bladder rather than where she does it. For example, she will not pee in front of her daughter. In addition, she won’t cheat on her husband, but if pushed to her sexual limit, she imagines her husband would forgive her if it was with another woman. Background: Working as an assassin for many years while her husband raised their daughter, Morrigan. Once her daughter and husband went missing, she retired from assassination and went out into the world to find them, helping whoever she could along her along the way. If mentoring Morrigan, starting quest is changed to Father. Class/Starting Stats: Assassin: Level 5 Strength: 7 Magic: 0 Defense:3 Resistance: 4 Luck: 7 Dexterity: 10 Skills: Heartseeker: All attacks have an additional 30% chance to crit Lethality: Has a 10% chance to instantly kill her enemy. Starting equipment: Estoc: A deadly thrusting sword: 80% accuracy, 7 base damage, 10% natural crit chance Steel bow: A well-made longbow: 85% accuracy, 6 base damage, 10% natural crit chance Z (Mentor)[the grim knight] Age: ??? Physical description: An imposing six foot one figure clad in black plate mail with a featureless black mask. The only piece of skin that can be seen is his impressive manhood in one of the rare moments that he relieves himself. Background: A mysterious man who refuses to say why he is here, but has shown how prowess in combat enough for few to question him or his loyalty. Class/Starting stats: Revenant: Level 5 Strength: 6 Magic: 6 Defense: 5 Resistance: 4 Luck: 2 Dominance: 10 Skills: Soul Crash: When using magic, high chance to stun enemies Soul Crush: Has the ability to make sure that fallen enemies don’t get back up. Starting equipment: Dark axe: A large axe made from a black metal: 50% accuracy, 8 base damage, 20% natural crit chance. Black fireball: a burning orb of darkness hurled at the enemy: 60% accuracy, 6 base damage, 10% natural crit chance. With the options available, please vote for the combination you would like to see. If I see a trend, I’ll continue this story with Chapter One. In addition, if you would like to, please vote from a scale of one to five (one being dry, five being completely soaked) on how much you would like omorashi to play a factor. Also, vote whether or not you’d like to see messing make appearances in the story. With that being said, fingers crossed that this little story of mine turns out well.
  10. Hello, I'm Dan. I'm new(ish) around here. Please be kind, you are all my heroes. I'm really into seeing girls pee themselves but I am also partial to the odd wetting myself. I've never had the pleasure of the company of a woman that enjoys male wetting. I was wondering if any ladies here are into this aspect of wetting and, if so, what clothes they enjoy seeing guys wet? I'm not into guys but welcome any responses on the topic. Why ever not? I often wet when I ride my bike as I really enjoy peeing in my cycling shorts. Feels good Anyway, sorry for not introducing myself properly and apologies if this has been posted before. No doubt it has, but hey. Have a wet one, Dan x
  11. male

    Happy New Year! I came up with a handful of new scenarios over the holidays, so we'll see how this semester goes in terms of writing productivity. Enjoy! **** “Mitch, how far should we string those streamers?” “Mitchell, is this enough for the freshman hallways?” “Hart, do we turn on these black lights now or wait until Monday?” Squaring his shoulders, Mitchell Hartfield put on his most in-control smile, the look that made teachers and students alike feel comforted and placated. “Rob, the streamers go all the way to Mr. Harrison’s room. Joey, put a banner across that last set of lockers, and that’ll be good. Brendan, turn them on to check that they’re all working, then turn them off for the weekend. We’ll get them again on Monday.” The questioners all nodded, as if Mitch had just offered the sagest advice in history, then turned to finish their assigned tasks. Mitch exhaled and looked around, surveying his fellow students and workers as they put the finishing touches on the spirit week decorations. This being one of the most expensive all-male private schools in Chicago, the decorations weren’t the standard paper and cardboard. The “streamers” Rob was hanging were carefully measured strips of silvery satin, and the banners were hand-painted canvas. The overall effect was spirited, yet classy – organized, as opposed to the typical chaos of teen-led spirit weeks. “Mr. Hartfield,” Mr. Missoni, the young faculty director of the pep club, interrupted Mitch’s silent appraisal. “Yes, sir?” “It’s 5:30, Mr. Hartfield. We don’t have access to the school any longer,” Like all of the instructors at the academy, Mr. Missoni referred to his pupils by their last names, as a sign of respect. Mitch drew his brows together momentarily. He hadn’t realized how late it was and was a bit stunned that over 2 hours had passed since he’d started working on the decorations. “Of course, sir,” Mitch demurred before directing his voice toward the teens in the hall. “Gentlemen!” he called, loud but not grating, “Thank you all for your work! Please finish what you’re working on immediately, collect your materials, and deposit them back in Room 118. Our time is up.” The dozen or so remaining pep club members moved in a flurry of obedience – not out of fear or simple deference to authority, but out of genuine respect for Mitch and his leadership. Hartfields were leaders. It was something Mitch had heard, both from his family and from teachers, friends, and other adults, throughout his life. His father was a former Senator who was now the board chairman of one of the largest city charities. His mother, the CEO of the fastest-growing advertising agency in the Midwest. His older sister, Veronica, was junior class president at Northwestern and had already completed a prestigious business internship the previous summer. So it was wholly expected that Mitch would excel at the academy, which he did. Now, in the first semester of his senior year, he was in charge of planning spirit week in addition to all of the typical coursework and college applications. Mitchell didn’t mind the work; he enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment and the pride that came with earning the respect of his peers and teachers. The respect that now had young men trimming the last imaginary frayed edges off of fabric and collecting the remaining materials to take back to the storage room. In less than five minutes, the hallway was completed, and the boys were saying good-bye to Mitch as he surveyed their work. “Thank you, Mr. Hartfield,” Mr. Missoni commented as the remaining boys cleared out. “I’ll see you in class on Monday.” “Thank you Mr. Missoni.” Normally, faculty members would be the last to leave, but it was late on a Friday, and no one distrusted Mitch to be the last one in the building, so Mr. Missoni had already turned to leave. Before he had a chance to enjoy the silence a bit, Mitch grimaced. In the hours he’d been working – and really, since lunch period – he hadn’t used the restroom, and now, his bladder was asserting its need. It was another habit of the Hartfields: work took precedence, especially leadership projects. Mitch and his sister had been raised to postpone the fulfillment of their own needs until the least intrusive moment. Over the years, Mitch had grown so proficient at the practice that he could go for hours without even noticing hunger, exhaustion, or, as was currently being demonstrated, the need to use the restroom. Mitch knew he was alone, but he still double-checked the hallways before pressing his thighs together. He really was quite full, much to his own dismay. As he reached for his uniform blazer and messenger bag that he’d carefully draped over the back of a chair, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Mitch started far more than he would have, had his need not been so urgent, and barely stopped himself from shoving his hand between his thighs. The notification of his phone was a schedule reminder, bright against the dark background. “Pick up Mom” Cursing internally, Mitch slipped his blazer on. Of course. He’d promised to drive his mother home from work, and he’d set a reminder for what he considered the latest possible time he could leave and still arrive at his mom’s office building on time. Now, using the restroom didn’t even cross Mitch’s mind as a possibility. His mother, Anne Hartfield, did not abide by lateness, and certainly not when it came from her well-trained son. Mitch was already walking briskly to his car. As the crow flies, his mother’s office building wasn’t that far away, but Friday night Chicago rush hour meant at least a half-hour trip, and Anne always left the office at 6:30 sharp on Fridays. It would be fine; he’d make the trip as quickly as possible, then use the restroom at his mother’s agency. He checked the clock as he started the late-model BMW. 6:42. By his own calculations, he had about 10 minutes of wiggle room to account for traffic that would still allow him time to use the toilet before arriving in his mom’s office. He knew Chicago well enough that any unusual delays – accidents or otherwise blocked streets – shouldn’t be a problem. He’d be able to navigate around obstructions fairly easily. If he could control himself, of course. Almost as soon as he pulled onto the street, Mitch felt his urgency return. Fine. It’s fine. Hartfields always take responsibility for their own actions, and Mitch had chosen to forgo using the restroom since lunch, so now it was his responsibility to hold his urine and reach his mother’s office by the expected time. If Mitch had been prone to rumination, he would’ve stewed over all of the decisions that had led him to this point; he’d marvel over how desperate felt, when 10 minutes ago, he quite literally didn’t notice any signals from his body. But Mitchell been raised to believe that brooding was useless. Problem solving was the only acceptable reaction to unfortunate situations, and right now, his problem was a dangerously full bladder. Mitch clenched his jaw as he tried to keep control by just squeezing his abdominal and thigh muscles. For a few minutes, in the comparatively light traffic around the academy, those methods worked, but by the time he reached the beltway, he couldn’t help but actively press his knees together. Traffic slowed, and Mitch was a half-second too slow in his reactions, necessitating a rather more forceful application of the brakes than comfortable. He stopped the car with plenty of space to spare, but felt a thoroughly unnerving spurt of urine dampen his boxer-briefs. In an instant, Mitch was gripping himself, frantically, trying to regain a feeling of mastery over his own body. The clutching helped, and as he eased off the brake pedal, he was also able to loosen his hold, but the ease didn’t last long. After less than a minute, he felt another surge from his bladder. Mitch glanced around unnecessarily to confirm that no one from other cars was looking at him. Of course, no one was; people rarely pay attention to others during rush hour, but, per another unspoken Hartfield rule, drawing attention to your own body was forbidden, if other people were watching. No one was watching. Mitch’s bladder was exceptionally full; he’d actually wet himself a tiny bit already. He was on the highway and didn’t currently have time to stop without risking lateness in picking up his mother. The inescapable habits of being a Hatfield and the demands of the current situation both allowed and required, respectively, Mitch to thrust his hand between his legs, grasping his dick tightly. Mitch blushed slightly, but Hartfields did what had to be done, especially if no one was around to see the more unsavory methods being employed. And now, Mitch was acting in ways that would surely appall his parents. As he drove toward downtown, Mitch no longer harbored any delusions of being able to keep both hands on the wheel. Holding himself definitely felt more secure, but even being reduced to such a state was disconcerting. Still, Mitch focused on the problem solving. In this case, holding himself like a child was necessary, if undesirable. The traffic wasn’t too bad, but by the time Mitch reached downtown, he couldn’t stop squirming. He was practically massaging his dick, kneading the flesh under the fabric of his pants in an unconscious attempt to mitigate the feeling of urgency. His thighs were moving in all directions – flapping his knees in and out, bouncing up and down, moving side to side while pressed together. On some level, Mitch acknowledged that this was probably not a safe way to drive, but the movement was barely under his control at this point. Just after 6:15, Mitch made it to the parking garage in his mother’s building. Without realizing is, he started fully bouncing in his seat as he navigated the dark loops of parking spaces. Nearly all of the spaces were empty, but his mother would expect him to park next to her parking space (never in it, even if it was unoccupied), which was closest to the elevator on the top level of the garage. Mitch’s knuckles were white between his legs as he somehow managed to park straight. He turned the car off but sat for a few moments, using the larger range of motion possible when not driving to squeeze and writhe frenetically in an effort to decrease the feeling of immediacy as much as possible before exiting the car. While he wriggled, Mitch went over the logistics in his head. His mother’s agency occupied the top 5 floors of the 20-story building, with his mother’s office naturally on top. He had the code to the private elevator that he’d parked by, so he could go straight up. The 16th floor, where all the interns and new employees worked, was almost certain to be empty at this time on a Friday, but he’d have to be careful. The bathroom was down the hall and to the left from the parking elevator, if he remembered correctly… His need feeling quite a bit less dire, Mitch grabbed his keys, opened the door, and exited the car. And lost all control. The gravity of standing, the change of position was the death knell for Mitch’s bladder. Liquid gushed out past his still-clutched hand, soaking down the front of his uniform khakis. A small “Oh!” escaped Mitch’s mouth. For a few moments, he was more stunned than anything. It genuinely hadn’t occurred to him that he wouldn’t make it to a toilet. Yes, his need had been spectacular, but he hadn’t actually wet himself since he was a toddler, and he’d had no intention of doing so now. Yet wet himself, he did. Streams of urine poured down both legs of his pants, with rivulets bursting from the fabric in multiple spots. The sheer volume was far too much for the cloth to absorb. In seconds, hot fluid started dripping heavily onto the concrete floor, the pattering sound deafening in the empty garage. The noise made Mitch’s stomach contract with guilt, but he could do nothing to stem the miserable flow. Panting with overwhelming physical reliefs, Mitch tried to get ahold of his racing thoughts, but he was too overwhelmed to make a plan. The sensation of peeing uncontrollably in his school uniform was too devastating to get past. At some point, Mitch realized that he was no longer going, though the sound of liquid trickling off the cuffs of his pants still echoed through the garage. Exhaling shakily, he started to stand up straight. He took a step forward, not quite sure where he was going yet, but stopped abruptly as a final spurt of urine fell from his bladder, streaming directly down his right leg. This, more than anything, nearly broke Mitch. His legs almost gave out, and he stumbled against the still-open driver’s side door. The idea that he not only wet himself, but had so little awareness of his own body that he didn’t know he wasn’t done, went against everything Mitch had been raised to believe about himself. Mitch realized that his lower lip was trembling and quickly bit down to stop the shaking. His Hartfield habits were kicking in; crying was unacceptable. He had to be responsible for his own actions. Though his insides still writhed with shame, Mitch started moving. First, he checked his watch; he still had 7 minutes to reach his mother’s office. Her secretary was almost certainly gone by now, so if he went straight to his mother’s floor, no one would see him. Except his mother. Mitch closed his eyes for a moment, mentally preparing for the inevitable confrontation. This was his fault; he would have to accept whatever reaction his mother deemed appropriate. Looking down, Mitch’s stomach twisted anew upon seeing the glistening wetness all down the front of his pants. Grimacing, he started to grab sections of material, squeezing out the excess liquid, so as not to drip in the elevator. He had to suppress his gag reflex when he saw the amount of piss being wrung from the material. When he finally finished, he grudgingly wiped his hands on the still-dry hips of his pants. Mitch checked his watch again as he entered the elevator – he was right on time. He straightened his shoulders, readying to enter his mother’s domain. Thankfully, the secretary was gone for the night, so Mitch was able to cross the waiting area unseen. He gently knocked on the tall, sleek doors to Anne’s office, sliding in at his mother’s distracted invitation. Mitch stood just inside the door, painfully aware of the heaviness of his pants hanging from his belt. His mother was arranging papers in a filing cabinet, her back to him. “Thank you for coming, dear,” she said formally. “I hope traffic wasn’t too ba-“ Anne cut herself off as she turned around and saw her 18-year-old son standing in front of her, pants utterly drenched. “Mitchell,” Anne raised an eyebrow coolly. “What is this?” “I hhhad an accident,” Mitch responded, then instantly hated himself for allowing his voice to stick on the second word. Anne’s eyebrow remained arched. “Why didn’t you use the bathroom on the interns’ floor?” With great effort, Mitch managed not to flinch. He’d known that he’d have to explain himself. “I didn’t make it.” Anne’s lips were pressed into a thin line. “Do I need to alert the janitorial staff?” “No, ma’am,” Mitch raised his chin slightly to counteract the natural droop of humiliation. Anne’s upper lip curled ever so slightly. “Then does your car require cleaning?” “No, ma’am,” Mitch repeated, keeping his voice steady. This was all the consequence of his own actions, after all. “Mmmm,” Anne trusted her son, despite her disappointment. He’d kept his word in arriving on time, at least. Still, failure to make it to the toilet wasn’t acceptable. Anne strode to her closet and smoothly pulled the plastic casing off her dry-cleaned spare suit. “Here,” she held out the plastic to her son. “No sense in spreading the mess to your car seat, then.” “Yes, ma’am,” Sitting on the dry-cleaning plastic was actually a great plan, and Mitch was oddly grateful for his mother’s logic. “Come along, then,” Anne’s voice was clipped. “No sense in dawdling.” Mother and son remained silent in the elevator, though Mitch saw his mother sneer when she saw the size of the puddle he’d made in the garage. His stomach clenched guiltily; there was something about his mother seeing the full evidence of his accident that made Mitch feel doubly ashamed. He unlocked to car doors and carefully placed the plastic on the driver’s seat as Anne situated herself on the passenger side. The drive home took 20 painfully long minutes. Mitch kept his posture straight and his eyes clear, though, internally, he was contorted with humiliation and anxiety. Anne turned to her son before they entered the house. “Dinner is at 7:30. I trust that’s enough time to make yourself presentable.” She didn’t wait for an answer leaving Mitch to follow her slowly inside. Up in his room, Mitch took a much quicker shower than he would have liked. Given his current mental state, he could have stayed under the hot water for hours, but Hartfields don’t mope. Instead, Mitch toweled off his hair, dressed in appropriate evening clothes, then reluctantly gathered his soiled pants, underwear, and socks to take to the laundry Realistically, he could have left it for the housekeeper over the weekend, but the desires to avoid a smell and, more powerfully, to avoid sharing his accident with anyone else, propelled him to do his own washing. In the laundry room, Mitch was just opening the washing machine when he heard soft footsteps behind him. “Hey.” For the first time that day, Mitch blushed. “Please don’t look at me,” he murmured. Obligingly, his sister turned around, leaning her back against the doorjamb. “Alright. I’m not looking.” Home for the weekend, a usual practice for the local student, Veronica had heard her mom and brother arrived, noticed the tension, and had gotten a brief, somewhat incredulous explanation from Anne. “Thank you,” Mitch said, though he shuddered at the unexpected interruption. After a moment, Veronica spoke again. “Are you OK?” Irritatingly, Mitch felt his eyes fill with tears, and he took a deep breath before responding. “I’ll be fine. It was my fault.” “It was an accident, Mitch,” Veronica said gently, still not looking into the laundry room. Mitch’s stomach flipped at the word. Most people wouldn’t have heard his breath hitch, but Veronica had more experience than anyone at growing up a Hartfield and all of the emotion-suppression techniques that came with it. When she heard the washing machine lid close and the cycle start, she took the chance to step into the room, placing a hand on her younger brother’s arm. “Mitch,” she insisted softly. “It’s OK.” Mitch crumbled, unable to respond right away. Veronica stepped closer, wrapping her arm around the teen. More to his own dismay than to his sister’s, who was intimately familiar with the feelings of disgrace that accompanied personal failures in the Hartfield family, perceived or otherwise. “Mitch,” Veronica repeated. “It was just mom. She knows you handled it as well as you could have, and no one else knows.” Mitch sniffed slightly, the twisty feeling in his abdomen unabated. “But…” he mumbled. Veronica looked up. “What? What is it?” Mitch’s entire ribcage seemed to tighten. There was no one else in the world he’d confess this to, but the magnitude of his indiscretion was enough to weaken his well-honed resolve. “But…” he stammered, feeling much younger than his 18 years. He thought of his final leak, the one he didn’t even feel coming. “What if it happens again?” Veronica hugged her brother, resting her head on the taller sibling’s shoulder. “Bud, I know it seems scary, but this was a fluke thing. I promise.” Mitch leaned into his sister. He appreciated the show of comfort – he and Veronica had always shared more hugs with each other than they did with their parents – but he really didn’t feel any better. Veronica smiled weakly; she knew that Mitch was unlikely to forgive himself so quickly. She didn’t have anything else to say, so she settled for “Dinner’s almost ready.” Mitch nodded, blinking the tears out of his eyes. He’d have to stop by the bathroom to throw water on his face before he made his way to the dining room. Despite his lingering humiliation, he couldn’t just show up for dinner with red eyes. He was a Hartfield, after all.
  12. I had posted this on another board I no longer patronize a few years back. Still a good representation of me :-) At the time I had worked really hard to qualify for the race. Took 3 tries. I am not terribly speedy. I'm a recreational runner who occasionally partakes in a marathon (26 mile foot race for non-runners out there). 10+ years ago I ran in my first Boston marathon. I had no idea what to expect for the event so like before any other long race I started hydrating early for this race. I also had a large coffee for my car trip into Boston. The race itself was at 11. We needed to be in downtown Boston by 830 to take a shuttle over to the start of the race in Hopkinton. I just barely made 830 and therefor had time only to get to the shuttle bus. At that point I needed to pee, but figured how long could the shuttle be. We had to be close, 20 minutes tops. Well 45 minutes later I'm sweating, crossing my legs, and tapping my toes and bouncing. I had a seat to myself too luckily so I was able to hold myself and not be noticed. I remember looking out the window and realizing we were still on the highway. We couldn't be that close. Shit.... I really didn't think I could make it. My bladder was really starting to hurt. I shifted and held, and continued to cross my legs. I was sweating, my heart was racing. I kept looking around to see if anyone noticed my desperation(actually panic) at this point. Luckily they were all too into there running plans, and excitement. We passed another exit on the highway. Oh nooooo! It hurt so bad I didn't know how much longer I'd last. Now I'm not even sure at what point it happened, or how. I just remember feeling a warmth spreading throughout my crotch. My holding hand got wet, and my grey sweats started turning dark dark grey. Pee even began running down my legs wetting my socks and running shoes. I couldn't believe it. Myself, 31 year old man wetting his pants. I couldn't stop it for a good 30 seconds or so (seemed even longer) no matter how I tried. I just sat there , face turning bright red, still squeezing my legs together,pants getting wetter and wetter. Meanwhile the pee that didn't soak into my sweats was running off of the vinyl onto the floor of the bus. Surely someone would hear it. I finally regained control. But my sweats, running shorts and socks were soaked. The bottom of my shirt was even a little wet. Not only that we were pulling into the starting area. I panicked big time. Thinking quickly I took off my sweats wiped the seat and placed the pants under the seat. My black running shorts while still wet didn't look too bad. Paying the price of bad blisters later I also ditched my very wet socks. My shoes were damp too, but needed them. I tucked my shirt in and I was back on track. Evidently only part of what was in my bladder escaped into my pants as I still really needed to go. Not wanting to wait in line and risk being discovered (my shorts were noticeably wet if inspected) I found a grassy area to stretch out. I sat down started stretching and completed the emptying of my bladder.
  13. Not a bedwetter but wondering if as I get older it couldn't begin soon. I have had plenty of daytime accidents. I was starting to pee as I woke up. Luckily didn't flood.
  14. Results of a hurried exit from the office and a traffic jam past summer. Getting older is fun.
  15. Need more ideas. Wanted to do something slightly different but this was best I could pull off with short window. Very open to requests. IMG_0632.MOV
  16. I hope everyone here can help me out. I've been trying to add clips and screenshots to the new Pee Movie Database of adult men peeing in their pants. If you know a scene, please let me know (PLEASE let me know also the episode and time it appears if you can. Thanks!) Here are some places that show what I've already collected: https://omorashi.online/pmd/wetness http://mikisit.tumblr.com/tagged/shows http://mikisit.tumblr.com/tagged/movies
  17. male

    I had a massive holding session yesterday and wet myself several times, so kind of expected to have a weak bladder this morning. I woke up early because I needed to pee, but decided to try to hold it for a while instead of going to the toilet, so went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Running the tap to put water in increased my desperation somewhat, and after I switched it on I waited for it to boil with my legs pressed tightly together, bending over slightly, using my hands to squeeze myself. The desperation was too strong though, and I felt myself starting to leak. It didn't feel like much, but when I removed my hand after, there was a soaking wet spot around 2 inches wide on the front of my underwear. Strangest thing was, the desperation went away completely after that, and I no longer felt the need to pee at all. I figured perhaps the incident was caused by a small amount of pee escaping my bladder while I was asleep, and being in my urethra until it escaped. There was no need for me to be up so early, and as I sleep on my side so my sheets were unlikely to come into contact with the wet patch on the front of my underwear, I went straight back to bed - without going to the toilet. Woke up around 3 hours later, when it was light outside, needing to pee again. My underwear had dried. Once again I decided to try to hold it, and went into the kitchen and put the kettle back on. Same as before, I hardly lasted any time at all before I began wetting myself. Except this time it quickly started pouring out, running down my legs and splattering on the floor. Even though there were a couple of towels within reach, the first thing I thought of was the t-shirt I was wearing, which I was planning on putting in the washing machine along with my underwear anyway. So I quickly took it off, and jammed it against my underwear to soak up the pee that was still pouring out despite me trying to stop. When the t-shirt was in place I relaxed my holding muscles briefly, which weren't making much difference anyway, thinking if I "let" some more pee out I would stand a better chance of stopping the flow. I did manage to stop it not long after, but my legs were soaking and there was a puddle on the floor. I was still pretty drowsy, and my first thought was to clean it up. My pee is very dilute when I have holding sessions; I am not so keen on "morning pee" and wanted to remove all trace of it as soon as possible. As I had peed quite a bit in my t-shirt, I used it to wipe the floor, then threw it in the washing machine along with my underwear. Then I got a cloth out of the cupboard, wet it under the tap and started wiping my legs, but decided that wasn't going to be enough so went for a shower instead. I don't even remember if I went to the toilet before having a shower, but reckon I probably would have done. Then the first thing I did after the shower, was use the cloth I had got out of the cupboard to clean the kitchen floor properly. Since then I have drunk several mugs of coffee and have been to the toilet several times. I like being hydrated but also want to let my bladder recover. When it occurred to me to write this up here, I took my underwear back out of the washing machine to take a pic, as I hadn't got around to switching it on. So they started to dry, but are still plenty wet enough to show how wet they were.
  18. indian

    Hi once again everyone. <present> The bus driver of the SETC bus hung out of the side of the bus blowing his whistle as we entered the Salem bus stop at 3:00 AM. This was to be our third and final bus switch for the night. The bus stop was dimly lit and reeked of stale urine and decomposing garbage. I heard a few of my friends stirring awake as the bus lights came on. I grabbed a smoke and left the bus, edging my way past a restlessly rocking Sanjana. The station was utterly appalling. Garbage lay rotting in large heaps. I looked around for a place I could have my smoke. My eyes fell on the bathrooms, the gutka riddled wall from where the stench originated. I edged my way past the food sellers and into the open unisex shit yard that they called a toilet. At this time of the night there was nobody around and the bathroom looked more than a little creepy. I stood to one corner and lit my smoke, an evil twinkling glistening in my eyes. I took a deep drag, then smoothly exhaled as my heart pounded faster and faster. I knew what was going to happen. I knew what I was going to see. I took another drag off the cigarette. The sound of footsteps pattering rapidly, approaching the bathroom stirred me. I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself. The footsteps grew louder and louder as the person running approached. Sanjana's panting was easily recognizable. Sanjana dashed into the bathroom, a frantic look plastered on her face. She scanned the filthy room up and down quickly, noticing me but in her urgency not caring, and dashed into the closest 'cubicle' (if you can call it that). From my place in the corner, I had a perfect vantage point. I took another drag. Sanjana unbuttoned her skin tight jeans and began frantically pulling them and her tight white polka-dotted panties off her thigh. The moment she had got them midway, she dropped into an awkward skewed squat over the trough below. Instantly there was a loud hissing sound as a forceful stream of urine shot into the bowl, washing off some of the brown plastered grime in its flow. But though Sanjana was squatting, emptying herself into the trough, there was no relief on her face, merely determination. Just one glimpse of her sweaty contorted face and the way she was clutching her stomach, I knew there was a much bigger problem shouting in her lower stomach. Her butt cheeks tensed several times during the coursde of her pee. Yet each time she managed to regain her composure. As her stream tapered off to a drizzle, she hurriedly pulled up her jeans and left the bathroom, buttoning them as she walked out. I followed her back to the bus with a sly smile on my lips. This was going to be an interesting bus ride !!! <Two Days Earlier> "Hey Rohit, where are we. I need to Peeee", Aishwarya whined from the back of the trekking group. Rahul looked up from the path in front of him. He scratched his head as he replied, "I'm not really sure. We're quite lost, that's for sure. We're in the middle of nowhere! There's just trees and more trees!! If you really need to pee you should probably just use a bush." Aishwarya looked indignant and sulking with a pouty face murmured, " I can wait." Our trekking group had gotten lost in the depths of the forest. We stumbled off the main trail less than an hour back and hadn't been able to find our way back. There were 8 of us in total, friends from work and other. We'd come up to Yercaud for a fun relaxing weekend of trekking, not this. Still we walked deeper and deeper into the jungle. As the sun started to dim, my eyes caught a figure in the distance, behind a forage of vines and branches. I pointed this out to my friends and they shouted to the person for help. The man however, didn't respond, at this distance we wouldn't know anyway so we all moved towards him shouting for help. Suddenly, the figure began to run. Shouting we chased after it for a good 5 minutes. Finally it appeared to be slowing down; we ran forward with renewed vigor. As we drew closer, we saw that the figure was not a man, but a tall beautiful woman, wearing a typical traditional folded saree. As we drew closer, we saw that she was fiddling with something behind a large tree. When we approached we were surprised to see a well built shed, about the size of a small public toilet, made entirely out of wood, in the middle of the jungle. The woman was fumbling with a ring of keys in front of the door. Her incessant jiggling and knee-bending gave voice to the nature of her hurry. Aishwarya had caught sight of the shed and was overjoyed. She outran all of us and reached the shed. Turning towards the village woman, Aishwarya said, "Toilet? Can .. I?? Toilet??" The village woman gave just one look of frenzied urgency to Aishwarya and went back to putting various keys in the padlock fastened on the door. Aishwarya was not well off. She was having severe difficulty keeping still. These were the final moments of struggle for her. All of a sudden a 'click' sounded as the padlock snapped off and the toilet door swayed open. Inside was a clean and obviously well maintained toilet. Aishwarya was already contemplating running ahead into the toilet before it opened. As the doors swung open though, she felt a long leak (more like a squirt) rush out of her and down her cargo trousers. She held it back but within 2 seconds another squirt escaped, and then another. Aishwarya ran ahead, literally pushing the village woman to the side and fumblingly bolted the toilet door behind her as she entered. She could feel drops of urine running down her calf. She tore her cargoes down to her knees as a tidal wave erupted from between her legs, washing the toilet clean in its path. Aishwarya sighed loudly and closed her eyes in bliss. The village woman trapped outside however was much less fortunate. Shell-shocked by Aishwarya's actions, the village woman, with her legs visibly twisted and in a semi hunch, pounded on the bathroom door. The 7 of us standing there could do nothing, and merely looked on. We were so busy watching her pounding away at the door that we didn't notice the gentle pattering noise of piss falling from her calves onto the soil until she started crying. When we realized what was happening, we all looked away, feeling incredibly guilty and awkward. The woman sobbed gently as her urine ran down her legs. Suddenly the wind changed, the sky darkened, the tree leaves rustled ominously. The woman looked up at us, her kajol smeared around her eyes. Her look was one of unadulturated hatred and anger. The next thing we knew, she was levitating above us, 5 feet in the air. As she looked at us her eyes glowed with orange fury. "FUCK YOU!! You bastards will pay for what you've done. You'll feel my pain, my humiliation, my helplessness, ALL OF YOU!!! You WILL pay. You WILL know what it feels like. Every single one of you!!" With that she disappeared among the foilage. We gazed upward stupidly in shock. The sound of a flush was followed by a relieved Aishwarya stepping out of the bathroom as she buttoned up her cargoes. "What happenned guys??"
  19. Hey everyone. It's my first crack at a wetting video. I made it this morning. I wore two pairs of running tights with an additional two pairs of compression shorts underneath.
  20. Male

    So far in 2016 I've woken up wetting four times: January 30: The night before, I wore my usual diaper and booster pad to bed. Sometime during the night I woke up to the most marvelous sensation of hot pee pouring out of me and bathing my crotch. I was barely awake enough to register what was happening, and I didn't interfere with it at all. I don't think that I even realized I was wearing a diaper. I just felt the heat and the wetness for a moment and went back to sleep. Looks like I'm regressing to wetting in my sleep more often -- that was the fourth time in the past five months. Luckily I was well diapered! I kept my diaper on and wet it some more. It got very bulky between my legs. I enjoyed just holding my crotch with both hands to feel how big my protection combo had become. The last time I wet it, I was lying on my side. Big mistake -- the diaper leaked into my pajamas and then onto the washable waterproof pad that I use to protect my bed. Oh, well, no real harm done. All the wet things were soon washed and dried. March 25: For the first time since January I woke up wetting. This time I was not wearing a diaper, so my briefs and pajamas got wet. Not very wet, since I reflexively stopped the flow. I kinda wish I'd stayed relaxed and continued to wet. Doing so would have been safe, since as usual I was sleeping on my waterproof pad. March 29: The night before, I was undiapered. I woke up and thought I was wearing protection, so I started to pee. I quickly realized my mistake, but not before wetting my shorts and pajama bottoms. I got up and went to finish in the toilet. I began to remove my wet PJs but decided instead to leave them on and finish wetting them while sitting on the toilet. I enjoyed once again the feeling of hot pee bathing my most sensitive areas. April 5: I went to sleep undiapered the night before. I woke up wetting again in the night and, sadly, reflexively stopped peeing. My briefs and pajama bottoms were wet but not my pad. I wish I could experience relaxed wetting again, whether I'm wearing a diaper or not -- as long as I'm sleeping in my own bed, not visiting family or friends! Taking into account the two nights in a row that I wet the bed in early December, I've now wet in my sleep six times in the past four months, which is a rate of 18 times a year. Just considering recent wettings, 3 in 12 days, I see the rate is 90 per year. Whether I wet 18 or 90 times this year, it will be far more than I have wet in earlier years. Thanks, BPH!
  21. Been a while since I've posted a video up here! It's also available, along with many other videos, on my YouTube channel! IMG_0063.MOV
  22. A variety of omo images I've done. Mostly characters from Homestuck, and a furry in there too. Please read the labels for info of each! Female: Male: Warning: Xeno, masturbation Warning: Furry
  23. Hello, everyone! It's been quite a while since I have posted anything to this site. However, I have this new chapter story. I've already posted the first chapter on another website here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1573955/chapters/3341402. However, since it's an omorashi story, it's pretty logical to post it here, too. I'm not quite sure how many Sherlock fans there are on the website, but hopefully all of you who are fans (or not) will enjoy this. The summary of the story is basically this: Sherlock and John fly to New York to help a friend of Lestrade solve a series of puzzling murders. On the way, John finds out quite an embarrassing secret of Sherlock's, which leads to a rather embarrassing event for the detective. With John now knowing about Sherlock's problem with Paruresis (bladder shyness), will he bare witness to any more incidents? And is this the most complex case that the duo has ever consulted on? So, enough of me rambling...on to the story! Chapter 1: The Plane Ride Sherlock didn’t necessarily hate flights. To be specific, he hated long flights. And unfortunately for him, he was currently on one. By some standards it wasn’t actually too long; it was only eight and a half hours, but for Sherlock it was on the brink of being a much too prolonged level of time. Sherlock and John were flying to the United States, New York to be exact, for a case. John didn’t approve of the idea at first, complaining amount the uncertain amount of time away from London. Not to mention that neither of them had ever actually been to the States before. However, Lestrade had been the one to call Sherlock up about the New York City murder. Lestrade had a detective friend in New York, who happened to be working upon what the newspapers were labeling ‘The Most Infuriatingly Difficult Killings to Solve in a Century.” The detective had called up the DI at Scotland Yard, begging for help as the entire NYPD was stumped. Lestrade by no means had the money or the time to run off to New York, but he knew someone who did. Sherlock Holmes. He’d put the consulting detective in contact with the desperate man, and within two days he and John were on a plane bound for the east coast. They were about six and a half hours into the flight when Sherlock began to notice a problem. Not one that was obvious to anyone else, but it was one that was all too tale tell for him. Sitting in his seat, fiddling with his phone, he had felt the first bit of pressure beginning to reside in his lower abdomen. He mentally cursed; how? He’d been careful. Refusing to drink for the entire flight, going to the loo barely two minutes before they left the flat. Apparently it hadn’t done as much good as he had hoped it would. Swallowing, Sherlock suppressed a sigh. There was nothing he could do about it. Not until he reached their hotel. This was only two and a half hours away, if you factored in the ride from the airport. Give or take a few minutes. He went back to glancing at the lit up screen on his phone, vowing to do his best to be distracted for as long as he could manage. Another hour slowly went by, Sherlock now both a bit bored and getting slightly desperate. Hyper aware that John was sitting right next to him he did his best not to shift around. However, he couldn’t help pressing his thighs together as his bladder pressed at him more urgently. He glanced over at the door to the bathroom which was a few seats a way, longing to be able to use it. Although, he knew it wouldn’t work. Sherlock looked away reluctantly, trying to reassure himself that he could make it. It wasn’t that long of a wait now. Despite Sherlock’s attempts to be discreet, a few minutes later John picked up on the other man’s restless movements. He glanced away from where he had been looking out the window, instead turning his gaze to the detective sitting tensely next to him. He narrowed his eyes. “The loo’s free, you know.” John murmured, picking up a book he had cast aside earlier. Sherlock’s face colored slightly, a bit embarrassed at having been found out. He didn’t need John knowing about his predicament. “Why are you telling me?” he muttered, feigning innocence. “Sherlock, can you see yourself? I’ve never seen anyone that tense.” John pointed out. “Yeah, well... It’s fine.” Sherlock replied tersely, staring at his phone and trying to relax at the same time to prove his point. John gave Sherlock an incredulous look. What was up with him? “Why won’t you just go?” he inquired. The other man clearly was in an increasingly bad state. Sherlock mentally cursed again. “I said it was fine, okay?” He sighed, not really giving an answer. He avoided looking at John, wanting nothing more than for this conversation to end. Talking about his need did nothing to help alleviate it. John sighed exasperatedly. “What? Is Sherlock Holmes so much better than everyone else that he can’t use a public loo?” He mocked, not understanding what was going on. Sherlock clenched his teeth together, annoyance panging through his chest. “No, that’s not it.” He snapped. “Then what is it?” John demanded. Sherlock hesitated. “I can’t.” He finally mumbled quietly, fiddling with his hands. John now looked puzzled, still not understanding. “What do you mean you can’t?” He retorted in confusion, now full on facing the detective. Sherlock sighed quietly, struggling not to squirm. His need seemed to be growing rapidly worse by the minute now. “I just can’t, okay?” He muttered, desperate not to have to explain. Now it was John’s turn to sigh. “Sherlock, explain.” He pleaded, confusion written all over his face. Sherlock hesitated further this time. “I just physically…can’t. I freeze up…” He mumbled embarrassedly, feeling horribly awkward. John’s expression suddenly melted into one of understanding. “Oh,” He said, surprised, “You really…can’t.” Sherlock reluctantly nodded, his face tinged to a rather pinkish color. John leaned back in his seat, still glancing at Sherlock. He hadn’t been expecting something like that. The army doctor tried to think through the situation, glancing at his watch. They still had around another forty five minutes or so before they even landed. He turned back to Sherlock. “Well…do you think you can at least try?” John asked softly. Going by the amount of struggling Sherlock was obviously doing to keep still; he knew that the other man truly needed relief. Sherlock sighed, glancing around at the other seats. Which, of course, were occupied by quite a number of different people. He shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. There’re too many people.” Sherlock mumbled. John bit his lip slightly for a moment, glancing around as well. In all honesty, he felt a bit bad for Sherlock now. “You need to at least try, please. I know it can’t be easy, but please? I don’t like seeing you like this.” John told the detective. Sherlock contemplated it, bouncing his knee up and down nervously. Trying never worked for him. He’d been like this for as long as he could remember. He’d just never been able to easily go someplace away from home, especially in these types of situations. However, he was unbearably desperate at the moment. His bladder was urgently nudging at him constantly now, not approving of his resistance to letting it release. He glanced at the empty bathroom. “Okay, fine…” he mumbled, sighing softly. John nodded. “Alright, go on then.” He said, turning back to the book in his hand so as not to make Sherlock feel as if he were watching him. Sherlock carefully got up, wincing slightly as gravity weighed on his overly full bladder. Once he was sure that he was okay to walk, he strode over to the loo, repeatedly telling himself that no one was watching him. Once inside he shut and locked the door, dropping a bit of his mask and fidgeting in place. The presence of the toilet in front of him just made things that much worse. Sherlock awkwardly pressed his legs together as he unzipped his trousers. Despite the immensely increased feeling of desperation, the moment Sherlock aimed to let go, everything stopped. The taller man grimaced, frustrated by his body. He gingerly pressed on his bladder in a last effort attempt to get himself to go, but it only managed to cause pain instead of a stream. It was useless. He was too aware of the people outside of the door, his ears too tuned in to their mindless chatter. He couldn’t go here. He just couldn’t. Biting his lip, Sherlock zipped himself back up. He reluctantly exited the bathroom, walking tensely back over to his seat and sitting down. John looked up, took one look at Sherlock’s stature, and knew the other man hadn’t been able to go. He sighed quietly. “Nothing?” John muttered in question, just to be sure. Sherlock shook his head slightly. John glanced around once more, but shrugged. There wasn’t much that could be done. “Well…damn.” The doctor mumbled, not knowing what else to say. The both of them were aware of the situation, so there was no need to really try and say anything else. John went back to his book, while Sherlock returned to fiddling with his phone. He checked the time, noting that they were now thirty minutes from their destination. Thirty minutes. It didn’t sound overly long; however, it wasn’t as if he could simply go at the airport. There would be even more people than on the plane. Therefore, you had to factor in however long it took to get to the hotel and such. Sherlock bit his cheek, forcing himself to believe that he was perfectly capable of managing it, despite the already pressingly full state of his bladder. The last portion of the plane ride had been just as horrid as Sherlock had imagined. His desperation could do nothing but increase, so by the time they landed he was in pure agony. The entire time he had been telling himself he could hold it, that he was in control; but now, he seriously doubted his own ability to do so. John had been sending him looks every few minutes, most of them of sympathy. The army doctor reassured him a couple of times that he’d be fine, and also suggested once again that he try and go again, but they both knew that it just wasn’t happening. Sherlock walked tensely as they got off of the plane, John walking behind him. Gravity weighed heavily on him, and all he could think of was the sweet relief he desperately needed. Unfortunately, it wasn’t coming near as quickly as he would have liked. He was still forced to go through standard airport procedure, and to face the agonizingly large crowds. Another fifteen minutes went by as they went through the airport. By this time John was almost constantly watching him, truly worried for the other man. He’d never seen the detective like this. Sherlock was struggling to keep his movements under control, but he was fidgeting around a lot despite his efforts. He couldn’t help it. Not doing so would surely result in his loss of control. They finally were able to grab their luggage, and begin to make their way out of the airport. Sherlock’s pace was at times fast, and at times slower. On one hand he wanted to hurry up and yet, on another, walking too quickly resulting in more jostling of his bladder. He grimaced slightly as they walked, his abdomen pressing harshly against the waistband of his trousers. John took notice of the look on the detective’s face and stopped him. “Sherlock…do think you could try and go here at the airport? I know, I know,” he added at the look on the other man’s face, “It’s just… to be honest with you, there is no way in hell you are going to make it to the hotel.” He stated. He didn’t like saying it, but it was the absolute truth. Sherlock sighed quietly, doing a slight side to side dance as the stood in the wide hallway. He hated to admit it, but John was right. Waiting meant embarrassment. However, the airport bathroom meant struggling helplessly. Yet…he at least had a slight chance this way. “Okay, fine, find a bathroom.” He muttered quietly, giving in. John nodded, quickly glancing around. He couldn’t see one really near them, but over the numerous people travelling down the hallway he spotted a sign pointing to one being around the corner and down into another area. ”Okay, come on.” He instructed, gesturing for Sherlock to follow him as he began walking again. Sherlock did so, his stomach in a nervous knot as he fought against everything his body was telling him to do. They made it around the corner and a few paces before Sherlock slowed down quite a bit, almost completely stopping. John sensed the other man’s lack of movement, and turned to him, slowing down himself. John frowned at the sight of his friend. Sherlock was partially doubled over, his legs pressed tightly together, and his face contorted a bit in pain. “Sherlock...” John breathed helplessly, “Come on. You can do this.” He encouraged. Sherlock couldn’t speak, didn’t even try to. All his effort was being put into holding it all in. His bladder contracting harshly and he gripped at his thigh, trying not to grab at his crotch. He tried to begin walking again, but it ended up hurting him more than helping. More plainly, it ended up being his undoing. John could see the exact moment it happened. Sherlock’s entire face went completely red, and the frantic last effort attempt to stay in control flashed through his eyes. Nothing worked, however. He’d held it for much too long. Sherlock felt his stomach drop as urine began to seep out of him a bit slowly for the first moment, before turning into a full-fledged stream. It dampened his pants quickly, immediately starting to hit his trousers, rivulets travelling quickly down his legs. He stayed bent over, but he wasn’t as tense as before. Sherlock found he couldn’t enjoy the relief as his bladder emptied its contents unwillingly. He was much too mortified. John sighed quietly to himself, watching in horror as Sherlock lost entire control. He glanced down, seeing the small puddle forming around the consulting detective’s feet. He’d never seen Sherlock look so defeated, or so…human. People passing them slowed down and stared, clearly noticing what was taking place. It was Sherlock’s worst nightmare. It seemed to take ages for him to finish, and when he did his trousers were almost completely soaked. They were of a darker color, but it was still rather noticeable. He glanced over at John slightly, looking as if he’d just committed a murder. Hyper aware of the people staring at them, John motioned for Sherlock to follow him. “Come on.” He mumbled quietly, not wanting to say much else with the others around them. Sherlock sheepishly followed after John, keeping his gaze down. The doctor led them to the bathroom they had previously been heading to. Thankfully there were only a couple of people in this one. John turned to Sherlock, giving him a sad smile. The other two men were finishing up, and washing their hands, not paying attention to them. John began rummaging through one of their bags that he had been carrying. Sherlock easily figured out that the other man was getting clothes for him to change into. The other men left, and a moment later John came up with some clothing items for Sherlock. “Here,” He said, handing them to the still embarrassed looking man, “Look, Sherlock, it’s okay. It was just an accident. They happen.” He reassured him. Sherlock sighed quietly, merely nodding. John had expected that as an answer, and knew that Sherlock didn’t want to talk about it, so he moved on. “Go change,” John gestured to a stall, “You can take a shower when we get to the hotel.” He murmured. Sherlock nodded once again, wordlessly taking the clothes and entering the stall. He hated this so much. These things weren’t supposed to happen to him. He was a grown man; he shouldn’t be having accidents. Sherlock shook his head, resolving to simply not talk about this incident with John. The other man already knew now about his bladder shyness, so there was no reason to discuss what had just taken place. Sherlock stripped off the wet clothes in disgust, changing into the clean ones. John leaned against the wall, waiting for Sherlock. When the other man finished up and came out he put the wet clothes in a bag, before they both walked out. The ride in the taxi was mostly silent, Sherlock trying to pretend as if nothing had ever happened. The arrived at their hotel and checked in, going up to their room. After sitting their stuff down Sherlock immediately headed for the bathroom, going to take a shower. He felt disgusting. John shook his head as the other man disappeared, not sure what to think about the event that had taken place. It was definitely something new. Oh, well. Tomorrow Sherlock was to start working on the case they had traveled for, and he’d surely be distracted from what happened then. With that thought, John pushed the incident to the back of his mind.
  24. View File Rachel's Holiday Gift 10: Hot Male Bedwetting! So finally something for those of us who love bedwetting and men! Classic bedwetting in white briefs! Enjoy! Rach Submitter rachelkirwan Submitted 12/29/2016 Category Underwear Wetting  
  25. So, here we are. I've been thinking about sharing my story, like a biography but...smaller. Why? Because I have a lot to tell and no place to tell it, and this seems like a save place to talk about my tale of woe. So yeah, strap yourselves in, this gon' b gud. I was born in Februari of 1997 in Leiden, the Netherlands. My mom, let's call her Beth, was born in the Hague, but was raised in Duiven, a town on the border of Germany. My dad, we'll call him Peter, was also born in the Hague, but hadn't moved. Thet met in an appartment building. My dad was a guard there, and my mom was taking classes to become a nurse. The had a child, my sister Amanda, 2 years before I was born. The birth wasn't without complications; I was pushing against my mom's pelvis, but I'll get back to that later. My young years were pretty good. From the stories I heard I was a happy baby, quickly satisfied and not too troublesome. I went to a school nearby with my sister. I was a happy little guy in school as well, often cracking jokes, enjoying classes and wearing bright clothes. My mom took me to a doctor once to check out my feet, as she said they looked wrong, but he dismissed it. I moved to a diffrent schoolbuilding once, because the old one was getting demolished. My mom was in a wheelchair due to the problems with her pelvis, and went under the knife in around 2004. She slowly recovered and soon, she was able to walk without pain again, and things were looking up. I was an avid swimmer, and soon brought home certificate after certificate. Right now, I have about 13 of them, including one scuba diving certificate and first-aid swimming (don't question it.). I always was a tall kid, making people think I'd love basketball, but I hated it. I had something called "DCD", which basically means you can't aim for shit. But it was fine, I laughed my way through the day and enjoyed life to it's fullest... *instert threatening music here* Then...seventh grade happened. You see, I was always kind of a...reclusive kid, not really a going-out type and everything but a badass. Yet, classmates talked to me, and I considered them friends, even inviting them over for birthday parties and the like. However, everything changed when the depression nation attacked. I suddenly came to the realisation that they weren't laughing with me, but laughing about me. I realised how, when they played with me, I always got the shitty roles, barely even playing at all. And calling people "gay" and "stupid" wasn't friendly bater, it were insult, directed at me. My trust in humanity was destroyed, as was my happiness. Almost overnight I went from a super happy kid to a dark, depressed kid, who thought about things he shouldn't think about yet. It was like there had been a party, but I looked out of the window and saw the approaching appocalypse; the party was still there, but I was the only one who saw the pointlessness of it all. On top of that, my relationship with my dad was all but perfect. There would be times where we'd be fighting daily. And at that moment, when it seemed like it couldn't get worse...the bolts that held my moms pelvis together broke loose, and she was back to square one. She had another surgery, now with a sort of substitute-bone, and once again, she slowly recovered. My sister was ok, she went to school, she made homework, she had a slight fear of failiure and a low self image, but she was ok. Between the eight and nineth grade, I switched schools, for real this time. I went to a school for bodily handicaped people. Problem was: my classmates had hung out with eachother for eight years, and I was brand new, and I was the one left out again. This was the point that my love for videogames grew into an addiction. I escaped to a world that was better, friendlier and fairer than the real one, and for a moment I could forget my problems. I finished primairy school and moved on up. I did "HAVO", which is the third highest there is, while my sister did "Gymnasium", which was the highest. Then the fear started. Out of nowhere, a huge paranoia and fear struck me. This started, as I recall, with Herobrine: a myth in the Minecraft community. This went on and on, no medicine worked, and my state got progressively worse. I saw a psychiatrist who, I shit you not, became depressed halfway through and pretty much ditched me, explaining that "He couldn't deal with my negativity". I switched schools again after the third grade, as my school had lost the right to teach at an Havo level. I moved to a school aaaaaall the way to the north of the Netherlands, and it was a hell on earth. For two years, I'd be driven back and forth to a school with an Economy teacher who didn't like kids, an English teacher who let you solve all your problems yourself and a principal...oooooh the principal...if I had the chance, I'd punch him. The amount of times my parents were called over to discuss my "behaviour", with him telling them how I should take responsibility for my problems, and saying that they weren'd being constructive when they asked what was special about this "special" school. My mom actually walked out of a meeting crying once, after threatening to sue the school. This was also the first place I fell in love. It was a pretty, slightly tomboyish girl that we'll call Naomi. She was cute, cuddly and she drove me crazy. Yet, my heart was crushed as I found out she was a lesbian. We're still friends, even though I'm still crushing hard for her. This wasn't the last time by the way, after that there were about 7 other girls that turned out to be lesbian or bisexual, or, as Naomi put it: "You have a great gay-dar, just...the wrong way around..." Around that time, I was sick of being scared, and took my fear head-on. This was in 2014, and I started with reading the plot of a bunch of horror movies on Wikipedia. Around Oktober 2014, when FNaF came out. I watched youtube videos, skipping ahead to the jumpscares. My first full horror video I watched was in Januari 2015, being about FNaF 3. From here, I started moving on up, and in Oktober 2015, I watched my first full horror movie, Final Destination 5. From here I went on to watch all the Final Destination movies and all the Saw movies, and I was no longer scared. Two years, and I failed the exams. I was devistated. I'd burned through a lot of psychiatrists and therapies, and I hit rock bottom. On top of that; remember that my mom had my feet checked out? Yup, now I needed orthopedic shoes to prefent my feet from breaking sideways, making me walk on my legbone. My dad wasn't helping at all and my mom was struggling with a depression herself. I went to another school, this time in Leiden, and got my Havo certificate in a year, lightening the mood a bit. So, we're getting pretty recent. My parent's marriage is moving downhill, my dad has lungcancer and my sister has an unknown illness, and has been bedridden for about 5 months now. On the other hand, I got a good psychiatrist and medicine that make me feel way better, I mean, at least I don't wanna kill myself anymore. Pfew, that's quite something ey. I don't know WHY I want to share this, I just do. Welp....bye! Glenn