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Stories from School


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#1
Male Slater

Slater

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It’s been a long time since I posted a story for you guys, and I love to entertain. I really shouldn’t be awake at this hour as I have to get up an extra 2 or so hours in the morning but oh well. This set lists out stories of the girls I’ve seen (or almost saw) wet themselves in school, fueling my passion for omorashi since I was 4. Chronologically...

I kinda cheated on this first one, and I will admit I was a mean little boy (and a peeping tom). I don’t do this anymore and never did after the first grade. However, at this stage, I was really only into desperation, not wetting.


In the first grade I got my very first taste of a girl who wasn’t my sister being desperate for the toilet. Thinking back on it, the experiences (yes, multiples) were extremely coincidental. I went to a private school where we had a separate, small building with a bathroom for the first graders (the only class of first graders). Right after lunch, we got our first and only bathroom break. The pass started on one end of the room and moved its way through the desks.

It just so happened that the girl in front of me was always very desperate around this time, and the hall pass came to me first before her. We’ll call her Jenny. Jenny was a leg bouncer. And she always wore light-colored dresses just barely hanging at her knee. She was really pretty (I secretly had a crush on her twin sister though), I mean imagine the perfect Goldie Locks with brown hair, even with the curls in her hair. Those curls in her hair bounced really easily as she shook rapidly in her wooden chair, quietly moaning, “Hurry up, please, oh please, hurry!” Hands, rather respectfully, in her lap or rubbing her thighs, rarely clutching to her crotch.

I always pretended to drop my pencil or something so I could see if I could look up her dress. Rarely did but I enjoyed just watching her bounce. So one day I decided to go into the bathroom on my turn and wait as long as I dared. The teacher never noticed because she was sitting at her desk looking over papers or something and the room was very quiet.

Then I would come back and keep the bathroom pass on my desk. Being as shy as she was, she would stare at it for awhile, and to my surprise, not say anything. She just kept rapidly bouncing in her seat. A tiny little seep of pee would go into her (always white) panties a few times, and you knew because she would hiss, lean off to the side, and cross her legs.

“Slater, please,” she whispered, “give me the pass! Oh please give me the pass! I have to pee so bad.”

I would just ignore her. This happened very often, almost daily. Until Jenny started to cry, beg, or when she built up the courage to raise her hand to tell on me, I would give her the pass when I felt sorry for her. I really just wanted to see her hold it in, I never intended her to have an accident and never cared for her to. There was this one day I kept the pass the whole time for two and half hours. I never forgot when Jenny was running to the van where her parents waited to pick her up while screaming, “I have to go to the bathroom!”

But the day I'm going to give details to, I kept the pass to myself again, and she continuously begged me for the pass. Squirming and rubbing her legs together, unable to do much of her work. It never really occurred to her that she could just reach over and take the pass from me. The teacher left the building and the class sat quietly, working on forming letters. I watched the blue ribbons in her hair gleam in the light as she moved them, bouncing hard. She leaned over to the side again, hissing and crossed her legs over. Soon her chair was scooting back and forth, hands at her sides. Eventually Jenny bent over. I was too guilty to look at her face but I’m sure it was desperate.

“Slater, oh Slater please!” Jenny whispered again. “I really, really, really, really, really have to pee!” And as she leaned forward she bounced again.

I tried looking down the top of button of her dress but I was disappointed that there was nothing to see as the top part was too close to her neck. I glimpsed at her face and looked away. I even pulled the pass closer to me. She started staring at the door, waiting for the teacher to return, biting on her lip, eyes dimmed and eyebrows low, nearly jumping out of her chair as she rocked violently about. If the other students noticed, none of them showed it. She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs and eventually just pressed her knees tightly together and barely moved.

At this point, the classroom wasn't quite as still, buzzing with bits of talking here and there as students dared to have conversations, so the noise level picked up as did the student's awareness of any movement away from the desperate student.

Then I saw Jenny’s face lift up, thick eyebrows high, head straight, eyes wide, hands at her shoulders and tightened in fists, mouth dropped open, staring at me, no, past me into my dark soul with disbelief; utter mortification—-never forgot that face. She looked around, huffed and hung her head down.

I was curious to see what she was looking at so I scooted my chair back and took a look. Jenny's light blue, silk-like dress was rapidly growing dark around her crotch and I could see droplets of pee running down the edge of her chair. She huffed hard again, breathing slow and strong, her arms slowly lowered until her hands gripped the sides of the chair. Because of the loud fan and the kids talking, it was barely audible but I could hear a little trickling.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no, no...” she whispered. A scattered puddle formed beneath her, running down the chair legs, front and back of the cupped-shaped bend as her butt became utterly soaked. Darkness between her legs was flowing and pee was tapping on the white tile, dripping off the hem of her dress. Slowly, her legs eased apart as she wet herself, relaxing as her bladder did also, until they were spread so wide I could clearly see her white panties (as well as the low lighting under the desk allowed). I could see enough though that the bulges of her pee flow was gurgling out of her crotch. Jenny's bleach white shoes and socks yellowed a bit in places from the liquid drizzling onto them.

Pee eventually stopped to a tiny trickle, a drop here and there, and it finally stopped altogether. I looked up at her and she was still looking down. Her hands slowly released their firm grasp from her wooden chair, and were propped up on her desk. She looked around as did I. We were the only two in the class who knew, and she rested her forehead on her hands, tried hard not to go into loud sobbing.

I was probably as shocked and horrified as Jenny was. I really felt bad at that moment because I really didn’t want her to have the accident, I just wanted to see her hold it. And I was probably going to get into a lot of trouble. “Don’t move,” I told her. I got up and went into the bathroom and grabbed a whole roll of paper towels. I came back and handed them to her under the table and whispered, “Try getting some of it up with this, and wait until class is over. Maybe nobody will notice.”

Jenny gently and quietly tore rolls of paper towels and tried soaking it up with her feet, and scooting the soaked towels to me where I tried flattening them as much as possible. The teacher came back not long after and we were successful. Her mother got another pair of clothes for her and brought them back.

The teacher found out of course, but because I told her "sorry, I really didn't mean it," and helped her hide the fact, she lied about me holding onto the pass that time (saying that she wasn't sure if she was allowed in the bathroom while the teacher was gone and held it too long), so I didn’t get in trouble. Since then, the teacher always started the bathroom pass on the opposite end of the room. We became friends after that, even partners on any paired project. From raising butterflies, reading buddies, or making cookies, it was always us two. And my crush on her sister switched to Jenny.




More to come, of course.

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#2
OmorashiG

OmorashiG

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Heh, that was actually kind of funny. Should I feel bad for thinking that?
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#3
Male Miles255

Miles255
That was such a cute story. http://animepee.me/p...tyle_emoticons/default/tongue.gif There's really no other way to say it.

Although I do feel bad for the girl for what you did http://animepee.me/p...tyle_emoticons/default/tongue.gif but you became friends, so that made it cute again.

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Something something something Sonic reference.


#4
Male Slater

Slater

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Heh, that was actually kind of funny. Should I feel bad for thinking that?


Humor was sorta the last feeling I would expect coming out from that. I don't know really, maybe it was the overload of cutesy.


I did want to add that I don't know what I thought I was accomplishing by stomping on the soaking paper towels and squishing them on the floor to flatten them out. We think weird things at those ages I guess.

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I have returned for the moment. I disappear in-and-out and I don't have e-mail notifications (I live in a house with 4 other people).

#5
miracleangel

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poor girl~luckily no one did that to me when i was young
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#6
Female Dessy

Dessy
that is so adorable... im going to die of adorableness o///o
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#7
Male Slater

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Alright folks, next installment.

In second grade, I went to a new school where I had a crush on this Indian girl who always wore the shortest shorts possible and was about the only girl who talked to me. I once tried blocking her from getting to the bathroom but that didn't last very long. I also once thought she wet herself but that wasn't true. I had dozens of fantasies about her being desperate, and I tried replacing her in my mind with my own accident in second grade.
(If you ask for that story, sorry you won't get details).


In third grade, I was seeing many of the same classmates, same girl, but I don't think anything happened at school as far as desperation goes. The teachers were very good about getting us to the bathroom.



Fourth grade was a different story. The new public school I attended prided itself on discipline. There were even uniforms. Wondering the hallways was strictly forbidden, and everything was done in neat rows and in order (the principal was probably former military). Our first chance for the bathroom was early in the morning, the next was hours later after lunch. Desperation (including my own when I wet myself in the lunch line for the second time) abounded at lunchtime. This was where I was introduced into fantasies for a pair of black girls.

Don't remember their names, but I enjoyed watching them hold it through lunch (because social life was more important than going to the bathroom). I stood next to one of the girls and I noticed her going, "Eeeheeeeee, oh eeee...." with her hands on top of her skirt by her crotch, bending up and down in place, teeth gritting. I was so disappointed; the next time I saw her, she let out a massive sigh of relief. The other black girl was made fun of behind her back by the boys for grabbing her crotch all the time.




And in the fifth grade, things were even worse. Boy oh boy, you guys would all have LOVED to go to this grade school. I never realized that my chance to see desperation, much less accidents, were so fortunate because it happened all the freakin' time at this school, apparently in every grade! And most of it can be attributed to our gym teacher. I found out later the guy was arrested and imprisoned, most likely on sexual charges. I knew, I knew for a fact he was into the omorashi fetish. It was sooooooooo bad, he was fired from his job because of an investigation into why so many kids (girls in particular) would turn up in the nurse's office with wet clothes having an accident during gym. And I remembered him from 2nd and 3rd grade at a different school and I wonder if he left that school for the same reason.



This one came from my sister so I didn't witness it but I got enough details out of her to patch it together. Apparently, my sister's class had a number of desperate girls in it, but none of them could use the bathroom unless they had to throw up. Boys on the other hand could just go as they pleased. This girl was wearing loose, pink shorts and a small t-shirt, she would've been in the 4th grade.

My sister's homeroom teacher didn't let anyone use the bathroom just as badly as the gym teacher. They went to gym just before lunch time, so they didn't get a bathroom break at all (since it was assumed they could go at lunch and then after school). My dad actually encouraged my sister to go ahead and wet her pants on purpose in class and blame the coach. She of course never took the advice, but I've heard multiple girls tell me that their fathers also suggested the same thing.


This girl in tight shorts in particular, took the same exact advice, and actually decided to follow it. She was talking to my sister (both desperate going in to gym), "I have to pee so bad, worse than ever! I don't think I'll make it this time."

"What are you going to do?" my sister asked. "You can't go unless you have to throw up, and then he wants to see the throw up to make sure you did it!"

"Oh, I know, but my dad told me to just wet myself when I had to go bad enough."

"Are you serious?" Lily asked with a shocked face.

Her desperate friend nodded, both hands firmly tucked into her crotch.



They walked in, and as usual everyone started walking around the edge of the gym. After a few laps, she ran up to the coach, bending her legs, shifting one in front of the other, making it obvious she's so desperate.

"Oh, can I please go to the bathroom coach?"

He turned, putting his hands on his hip, and he asked in his loud voice, "Do you have to throw up?"

"No, I have to..."

"Then no." It was loud and clear, for all the other students to hear.

She gulped, moved her hands to her sides, fingers stretched out, and bravely walked behind the coach and next to him on the other side. She spread her legs apart, cleared her throat, looked down, and pressed her pee straight into her shorts. Warm wetness exploded fast straight out, trickling out of the hems of her pink shorts, clearly darkening rapidly around her crotch. Snaking streams glistened in the bright light, winding their way down her legs, picking their paths carefully before sinking into her socks and sneakers.

It dripped from everywhere, the center of her crotch, around the back and front of her shorts, and she held her breath as she struggled to pee harder and faster to get it over with. The streams grew and flexed as she did, wetting more around her shorts. The gym teacher turned and stared at her as did some of the shocked classmates eager to see what the teacher would say.

A scattered puddle formed up together in a thin mass around her shoes, pee streaming on for a seeming eternity. But when she finished, it stopped very quickly, the girl clearing her throat again and stepping back as if presenting her puddle to the class, looking at her legs and shoes.

"Why didn't you go to the bathroom?" the coach shouted. He pointed towards the entrance, "Go to the nurse."

At this school the nurse's office was on the far opposite end of the school, but she straightened up and made her way to the nurse as if proud of her deed, leaving a wet, squeaking trail behind her.


Unfortunately, this did nothing to alleviate the problem, but nobody in the class made fun of her. They all knew she tried doing it for them so they could finally get a break. She nearly became a class hero in fact, but the effort was in vain.



Because the greatest, most impressive, longest scene of desperation I'm sure most of you had witnessed or dreamed was to come. An accident so detailed with clothing so soaked, I played it in my mind hundreds of times over the years. Ladies and gentlemen of omorashi, the prime, best of my work will follow this post. I never forgot her face, her name, the way she looked, and her clothes that day, which has to be one of the best of my life thus far.

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#8
Male vexer6

vexer6

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Please, tell us of this "greatest most impressive" scene of desperation!
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#9
Male Warrior of light

Warrior of light
Oh hell yes! Lets see this, this greatest, most impressive, longest scene of desperation ever You are getting me stoked here
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As your Flesh bears the sigil, so your name shall be known as that...of a recusant.


#10
Male runsy

runsy

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If its so great... it should probably be reenacted every year, just to remember its reverence! lol, we could only wish, right?
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#11
Male Radiohead540

Radiohead540

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Wow, I don't think I'd ever get as lucky as you, my friend. You went to a school that accidents were regular things? Your principal must've been horrible, but it must have been worth it to see all the desperate girls.
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#12
Male Slater

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Wow, I don't think I'd ever get as lucky as you, my friend. You went to a school that accidents were regular things? Your principal must've been horrible, but it must have been worth it to see all the desperate girls.


Oh yes. There were 3 accidents of my knowledge, and ... there were too many close calls for me to remember. I can vaguely recall glimpses of several but only remember 7 (if you exclude me out of the factor, then there'd be dozens).

That was probably the best year of my life of omorashi about it too. I hadn't gone through puberty yet, so I didn't reach orgasm during fantasies. This was the same year my sister wet her swimsuit and her pants doing dishes (if any of you remember my stories about her).



There was actually one time I slipped out of line before lunch to go to the bathroom. A concerned teacher asked me, with principal present (I think) who asked why I left. I told them I had wet myself twice at school before in the lunch line (different schools) and the exact same problem persisted at this one. So they asked, "Why didn't you go when you normally can?" I told them I didn't have to go at those times, and then they realized that the last possible time to go was recess, 3.5 hours before lunch (and then you can't go until you've gotten your food and waited in line).

That school had some issues. I was blamed for not making friends (I recently moved) and for being bullied. The coach for example, when I told him a student punched me in the stomach, he said, "So? What do you want me to do about it?" I told my homeroom teacher I didn't want to fail art class so I stayed behind to finish my project, and she told me I was stupid because I would now fail Social Studies for being late.



And you know what? My luck never ran out either. The next school I went to only had 1 wetting, but as I'll explain later, there were dozens of close calls I witnessed, more than one almost every day in fact, of both genders and a variable range of students.

Didn't stop there, as my stories from work "Hours Late, but On Time" I posted here earlier also show. In fact, I'm probably the luckiest guy on the planet who indulges in omorashi. There's so many stories and stories I've heard of from those I've met in person, I could write an entire book of short stories (improvising some of the details).

Man, I wish I could sell such a book. But who in the world would publish it? Especially since almost all of them are about girls younger than 18? I tried submitting a story to Female Desperation once, but it was rejected only because the main character wasn't old enough.



Still working on this amazing accident I have in store. I promise, it'll be the best wetting story on the Internet.

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