stories ahead

i have a little timer box too, mostly for e*dging but it works well in this scenario. key in, locked for about two hours, water bottle chugged and refilled. my belt wasn't going anywhere and my bladder was gonna fill up whether i liked it or not.

ive gone on walks like this. my shirts are usually long enough to cover my belt, if not i just find a baggy one. otherwise the lock is visible and others can see how desperate i am, not that they cant by the end of my walk. i start the little loop in my neighborhood, bottle in hand, feeling a little pressure but nothing crazy.

it doesn't really set in until i hit the uphill. my legs have to work a little harder and i realize just how full i am, just how much i drank. i glance down at the bottle and think about how this is the point, then take a long gulp of it. the tensing of my bladder feels nice at this point, just a subtle reminder of my need. if i were home, i may have started rubbing myself off. except for the fact that my jeans were still locked.

by the time i finish my walk, im walking a little faster and my hips are starting to rock. i can definitely feel the need and my body is a little desperate, getting the signs i need a bathroom i know i wont be walking to.

i go back inside and check the timer on the box. an hour and fifteen minutes. shit. i take a deep breath and glance at my computer, knowing im gonna need to find a distraction. my water bottle is half empty and i take a reluctant sip, unsure if im gonna make it to the timed release.

i don't have much choice. i sit at the computer and start up a game, one hand going to fidget with my belt. the game would load and distract me for a bit, but water just continues seeping into my bladder. theres nothing i can do about it.

id try to get my belt unlocked eventually. desperate pleading as i stand and let my hips dance around, rocking and crouching and gripping between my legs. the metal and leather don't give way, though. i pull desperately on the padlock, one single piece of metal keeping me from the release i needed. and i did it to myself.

i take a shuddering breath and look at the timer. 45 minutes left. i wasn't going to make that. a glance is shot at my crotch, hand quickly following it as a tense wave passes.

i dance desperately, knowing ive only got a few more of those i can make. my hand moves from my belt to my tummy, feeling how rock hard my bladder is. there's literally nothing i can do about it, liquid locked inside me with no ability for me to safely release it. i was going to mess myself.

you've been gaming for hours now. you didn't really realize it, time flies when you're having fun. your two friends Alex and Casey are in the call, you've been playing healer while the two of them wreck it up as the tanks. you couldn't be more lucky really.

you laugh as Casey queues up another match and reach for your Dr. Pepper. shit, it was empty. you stand and pull your headphones off, interrupting Alex. "be right back, gotta grab another drink before the match." you run to the fridge, grab another can of soda, then return to the chair. you lock in your character and load in, cracking the can as you control with one hand. you take a long sip and ready yourself for the match.

as things ramp up, you feel the bubbles in your chest. that's the most distracting as you struggle with it, interrupting your sentences and making you hiccup a little. as the panic dies down and your team resets from a loss, you take another, longer sip in the hopes it'll help.

it does, catching you off guard as you burp into the mic. thankfully the sound suppression apparently doesn't pick it up, but it isn't alone and you catch yourself belching. shit. well, at least you feel better.

"good one." Alex cracks at you and your cheeks burn. you laugh. "sorry, i needed that." you instead opt for your water bottle, finding it empty as well. shit, when had you drank this much? oh well, soda it was. you take a couple long sips, not really caring that you had to burp. you were hanging out and having fun!

you jump into the next team fight and feel a few more bubbles, but more importantly you feel another pressure sinking in, rather quickly. maybe it was the attention being drawn to your body, but you finally noticed that the last time you used the bathroom was around 1pm. you started gaming around 2, it was currently... 6:45pm.

since then, what had you put in yourself? a whole water bottle, two (and now a half) cans of Dr. Pepper, a bowl of popcorn, and a family sized bag of gummy bears. your character dies on screen from your lack of attention and you use the respawn time to take a long sip and to glance down at your stomach.

oh, you were bloated. you take a deep breath as the weight in your lower half really sets in, you feel the drinks over the last few hours finally colliding with each other in your bladder. a hand reaches down to brush over it and its hard to the touch, but then your character respawns.

you finish out the match with a win and hear your friends celebrating. you're already getting out of your chair. "hey guys, gimme a second, i gotta-"

you hear the sound of another match being queued. "oh shit," Casey sounds genuinely apologetic, "sorry! i thought you just got up so you'd be good. my bad." you take another deep breath and sink back into your chair, your leg starting to bounce. "it's all good, lets just make it quick. i gotta piss."

they chuckle at you sympathetically and Alex starts talking. "yeah, that was me a couple rounds ago. thats why i was gone for like ten minutes..." you're more focused on how your thighs have to press together. how your hips scoot back in the chair just a little bit so you can lean forward more, one knee sliding over top of the other to tighten everything up.

it was getting worse by the second. you look at the nearly empty can of Dr. Pepper and a thought crossed your head: i should just finish it. there's only a sip or two left. you know it takes a while for liquids to actually settle in, so in a lull you reach over and chug the rest of it. it would be fine.

after another team fight, it was certainly not fine. your stats were bad and getting worse, and Casey even laughs at you. "hey, you good over there? why can't i stay alive now?" you huff at him. "im getting dove," you mutter, completely lying. thankfully there was dive on the other team so it wasn't untrue, but you really just couldn't be in the right spot. it was so hard to think of anything but the pressure and keeping everything inside.

you reach point, but there's another match to go. your head hangs over the keyboard as you lean forward, both hands gripping your junk now. you pant for a moment, truly considering just running in between matches.

unfortunately, in the time it takes you to consider that, you run out of it. you can't make it there and back in 20 seconds. you straighten up and start moving forward, feeling the pressure turn into just plain struggle. your bladder starts quivering as your muscles strain to keep you clean, you really don't wanna have an accident in your gaming chair.

you get to point and feel bubbles in your chest again. oh God, not now... you hiccup and start the team fight as the enemy approaches, the burps bouncing up and down in your chest. you can't focus on three things at once, your leg is still bouncing and you need to keep your buddies alive! theyre screaming for healing as your legs desperately squeeze together and you're not sure if any of you are gonna make it through the fight.

you guys do eventually make it through with only three casualties, but unfortunately one of the casualties is your underwear. as a particularly strong wave hits you feel a small spurt, right as you hear a sound cue: you're actually getting dove. fuck. your hands are stuck to the controller as your muscles strain to cut the stream, doing so after a couple seconds. longer than it would've taken if you could hold yourself.

you gasp at yourself. did you really just wet yourself? you glance down, now distracted from the game almost entirely. there's a dark spot on your crotch, barely visible but still visible. you're just happy you're at home ar Alex starts talking.

"we'll pause after this match, just don't let it go into overtime." oh fuuuuuck. overtime would mean they have to go two more rounds and you know you just really won't make it. you nod even though they can't see you, too much frantic energy in your body. "please. i need to run immediately after this match."

"oh? someone's gotta get to the bathroom that bad, huh?" Casey snickers over the call and you feel your cheeks burn again. Alex is chuckling, not quite in the same tone. you aren't sure how to respond, so you try to laugh back.

"shut up man, im fine. i just drank too muuUUUUHHH-" your sentence is interrupted by the bubbles overloaded in your chest finally demanding release. you belch and both of them crack up. Casey sounds like he's losing it as his character dies.

"oh man, that was even better than last time. slow down on the sodas or you're gonna have to do the potty dance to help." little did he know you were way past that point. your bladder quivers and you feel a little bit more liquid overpower you, pressure in your entire lower half making it so much worse.

your bloated tummy wasn't doing you any favors. as you rip off your headphones because you're sick of hearing your friends laugh, you hear a loud gurgle. it takes you a second to realize the sound came from you.

it clearly didn't like the combination of things you put into it, along with plenty of the soda bubbles going through your system that didn't leave your mouth. you had a lot of air in your system in every way, a lot of pressure, a lot going on. but one thing was the most pressing.

you die again. fuck, it's overtime. your team needs to take this point or you had to do two more rounds. you're running back from spawn desperately as the healer, knowing your team isn't gonna win the fight without healing.

hands once again locked to the game, your thighs squeeze and a whine leaves your lips. you hear a sick sounding rumble from your gut. you're not sure if your friends were talking or if they heard any of it, but you can't find it in you to care. a leak springs into your pants and you gasp, your character stopping as you grab your junk. "no," you mumble, unsure if you're responding to something. it was desperate times now with this wave. muscles clench and unclench and finally, you feel everything recede back into your body.

back to the game. thankfully you weren't far from point and are able to start healing, but the waves are getting more frequent. you needed to win this fight now. your belly sounds like a bubbling cauldron.

your bladder was giving out. leaks were frequent, you get about three desperately spurts before finally getting control of yourself. it ends right at the team fight and round ends, a final "fuck you" squirting out of you just to make sure you know how full you are.

the moment you hear that victory ding, you're gone. headphones get abandoned as you fly to the bathroom, your hands already on your waistband. shaky hands struggle with the belt holding you back, but then it immediately finds its home around your knees. your hips are dancing side to side the whole time as you fight to not have a dribble of piss streaming down your leg.

you make it to the bathroom just fine and immediately get the most relief you've felt in a long time. it takes about a minute and a half and when you get back, of course your friends queue you in immediately before you can masturbate about it.

hes already dancing a little by the time they get in the car. "where are we going?" he asks, unsure if he'll get an answer. he doesn't. all he gets is a smile and a wink. "dont worry about it baby," a reassuring hand on their bouncing thigh. it stills. he takes a deep breath.

this is something they've done before, and he knows better than to use the bathroom. he only goes when told he can, and they haven't said anything about the bathroom since they woke up this morning. its afternoon now.

his belt is pressing into his bladder. he swears they're hitting every stop sign or red light on purpose on the way there, even slowing down at greens just to watch it turn yellow. ironic.

eventually his partner is having trouble focusing on the road as he loosens his belt and sets it to the next setting. fuck, he had to get to a bathroom. he caves. "uhh.. wherever we're going, can i please go when we get there?"

to his surprise, they smile. "sure baby." dripping with an ominous sweetness, they pull into a parking lot. no bathrooms nearby. hopefully the place they were going had-

they hand him a water bottle. he looks down at it with wide eyes, then back up at them. "go on." they smile again and set it in their lap, then get out of the car. he doesn't have much of a choice but to pick it up and get out, hesitantly uncapping it and taking a sip. it was only about 3/4 full, but his hips were bouncing back and forth. his hand grips his crotch once as he pauses, then starts following them. they're already about 15 feet ahead, he has to walk pretty quick to catch up.

"where are we going?" he finally asks again. they smile and take his hand, leading him over to a little roofed bench. a bus stop.

"to the art museum! but i don't feel comfortable driving in the city. so we're gonna take the bus." they squeeze his hand and smile at him, as if nothing was wrong. they sit on the bench and look how at him expecting him to sit down, but his face is flushed.

"babe... i don't know if im gonna make it that far." the art museum was about six miles from there, plus they had to wait for the bus. that could be anywhere from half an hour to an hour and a half.

he can't hold it that long. he won't make it. they laugh at him, as if they statement was ridiculous. "well, you have to now. i told you you can use the bathroom when we get there. that's what you asked for, right?"

his hips dance back and forth. fuck, he has to piss so bad. he looks around at the traffic- there's an intersection nearby with cars. not to mention the stores nearby, with obvious windows. it was a weekend, of course people were out.

they see his struggle and pat the seat on the bench next to them. "cmon, sit down. you're gonna embarrass us, doing your potty dance." his face is burning, but he listens. he sits down next to them, immediately leaning forward with his hands between his legs. he's gripping himself, soothing the ache if only slightly.

"none of that. the bus will get here soon. be normal for a second." he scoffs at that, but the wave has passed. he sits up to the normal level, his leg immediately starting to bounce. "you can't hold still at all?" they move their hand to his lower back, rubbing softly as he shakes his head. "no, it's so bad." he appreciates the soft touch, but it really just brought his attention to the lower half of his body. maybe that was their intention.

he takes a shaky sip of the water bottle, raising it to his lips. it's hard to get himself to drink when it's this full, and they can tell. when he goes to take the next drink, he watches as their hand slowly comes up, sitting underneath the bottom of the water bottle. he gets the cue. he keeps drinking, gulping it down until only a quarter of the bottle is left. then they remove their hand, letting him catch his breath. his hand slides to his bladder, feeling how rock hard it was. "fuck. im not gonna make it."

they both hear the rumble of the bus pulling up. "thank god," he mutters softly, but it's heard anyway. they laugh at both statements as he stands before the bus is even fully stopped, eager to hop on as if it would bring them closer to their destination quicker. he's at the door right as it opens, but takes a glance to see his partner lagging behind. they have a knowing smile on their face as they take an extra thirty seconds to get to the door, making his hips rock back and forth again. he was trying desperately not to grab himself.

they start the climb onto the bus, but he stops two stairs up. he had moved a little too much and got a spurt in his shorts. it dribbled into his boxers and they tapped on his back lightly. "sir, please get a move on." he has to focus everything in him to cut off the stream, praying the bus driver who's staring straight at him confused doesn't see the wet spot developing on his gray shorts.

eventually he makes it up the next two stairs, taking a deep breath before sitting in the seat closest to the front. there were several passengers on the bus, but most of them sat towards the back a couple seats apart from each other. he would be fine there. his partner sits next to him and pats his leg reassuringly.

"it's a twenty minus bus ride." they lean a little closer, so their voice could only be heard by him. "then you can run to the bathroom when we get there. you can hold on that long, be an adult and hold your piss like a good boy." his leg starts bouncing again, hands protectively sitting on his thighs to cover both the now-developed wet spot and slowly growing boner. "yes sir," he mumbles. he was good, he'd be- fuck. he has to piss so bad.

he leans forward again, his hands sliding in between his thighs again as discreetly as he can manage. it's not discreet at all, he knows that, but it would be worse to have an accident. his leg bounces and he hopes it just looks like anxiety.

they're leaking precum into their pants just from watching. his bladder was bloating through his shirt by now, he couldn't sit still, he really might crack on the way there. nobody was really paying attention, but he definitely was.

he sits up straight again and glances at the bottle in his hand. "i can't finish this." he looks at them, his leg still bouncing. "im gonna piss myself." they lean up, kissing him on the cheek. "you just might," they mutter in his ear. "unless you can hold it. but go ahead and finish the bottle for me, baby. you can refill it at the art museum."

he hears an actual real whimper leave his throat as his left leg fully crosses over his right, bending forward again. "i need.." he shivers, they snicker. "yeah? you need?"

"i need a second. i- im.." he takes a shuddering breath. this wave was worst than the last, and he feels another sputter into his shorts. his hand shoots to grip the top of his junk and it's damp, legs still clenching as tight as they can. "no no no no-" he hisses, hips shaking.

they're gonna lose their mind. he's never really had an accident before, but he's also never really been in this predicament. their brain is melting with need as much as his is, but a much different kind of need. their hand goes up to their shoulder blades, rubbing lightly along there and the nape of their neck. it was intimate, but nobody was really paying attention.

he whines softly. he'd managed to cut off the stream again, but he wasn't sure if he could do it again. he slowly, slowly sits back up as the wave passes and looks over at his beloved.

"babe. im not gonna make it." his eyes are desperate, pleading, his hips squirming back and forth in the seat. the ache in his bladder is too much, it's turning to pain and he knows he's at his limit.

they grin their shit-eating grin. "you don't have a choice. either make it, or piss yourself here on the bus. do you see a bathroom around here?" he looks back down at his lap, gripping himself again. he knows they're right, he just... has to make it to the art museum.

"finish your drink." he hears that demanding tone, and his hand moves to his mouth with the bottle. he knows he doesn't have a choice. he looks utterly pathetic, gripping himself to hold it in on one end while filling himself right back up with the other. he gulps the last of the bottle, then hands it back to his partner. they smile and take it. "good job. you know, im looking forward to the art museum. i heard they got a new collection..."

they began to talk and he tried to listen, but another wave was hitting him. bad. the bus was slowly rumbling to a stop as they pulled up to the bus stop, but it didn't matter to him in that moment. he had to focus every single thing he had into his bladder muscles.

another leak, a little longer this time. "no, no this isn't-" he gasped and grabbed the end of his junk. it was wet now, not just damp, and he was barely able to cut off the stream. "oh my god." he whispers, hanging his head with his eyes shut for a moment. he was going to piss himself.

he feels his stomach being touched as the bus stops. a small, tiny press. "oh, you don't feel so good honey." a false sympathy drips from their voice like sugar, hand tapping lightly on his bladder a handful of times. it makes him twitch and he feels another spurt. it's definitely visible now, and he whines.

the bus driver shoots them a confused look as he shoots to his feet, knowing he has a moment between waves. unfortunately, it really was just a moment. standing up that quick sloshes all the liquid in his belly and bladder, making his eyes widen and legs press together again.

he isn't sure what exactly keeps everything in, but he manages to hobble his way down the stairs. in his desperation, his partner was honestly getting forgotten behind him. they didn't mind though, grinning and dropping a $20 in the bus charge box as they descended the stairs.

by the time they stepped off the bus, he was standing in front of the next hurdle. he was bent at a 45 degree angle, legs pressed together pigeon-toed with his hands between his crotch. passersby glanced at him in confusion, concern, and a bit of disgust as they put together what was going on by his pose. his partner was just eating it up as they walked up to his side, eyeing the staircase in front of them.

"oh man. thats a lot of stairs, huh?" they reach up and pat his lower back again, making him huff. "not now, no. im trying so..." he trails off, and they know. they know he's at his limit. they look at the stairs and take a deep breath, really actually unsure if he's going to make it. they didn't bring back up clothes and they may have overestimated the wait at the bus stop...

he takes a step. a spurt, and a gasp. "no." his voice is desperate again, pleading but not to his partner, to his own body. it was going to snap. he didn't have time.

they watched as he takes off running up the stairs, taking them two at a time with both hands between his legs gripping himself. he was really pinching, holding himself and everything as tight as he could just to make it through the doors.

people are staring. his partner walks in calmly, seeing him standing a little off to the side with his hands desperately between his legs again. hes doing the potty dance, his eyes are squeezed shut, they even watch as he crouches down a bit to keep everything inside. fuck, it was hot to watch.

he looks around, unfamiliar with the place. he's still walking, moving off to a random side in hopes of finding a bathroom, a sign, anything with a direction to a toilet. he finally finds the mens sign across the aisle, and is about to continue his run when another wave hits.

he's leaking. it's almost constant now as his muscles are giving out. his hands are the only thing keeping himself from losing it entirely, and he was mere feet from the bathroom. his partner catches up and lightly touches his back, startling him into a large spurt.

oh. he was out of time. "shit-"

they watch as he takes off running again, beyond the point of holding. he gets in and feels liquid on his upper thighs, running into a stall with his hands desperately on his belt. fucking hell he forgot about the damned thing.

as his shaking hands try and fail to get his belt unbuckled, he hears another whine leave his throat. he wasn't- he was pissing himself, he was standing in front of the toilet because he couldn't make it. holy shit.

no, he wasn't. he was okay. a big spurt, he manages to cut it off. the stream ebbs to a stop as he gets the belt unbuckled, shorts shoved down to mid thigh because he just needed the clothes off. he grabs his junk with the same shaking hands and holds it steady, ready for the relief...

his bladder feels locked up. he groans, one hand coming up to desperately rub at his bladder. he knew sometimes this happens when holding, hell it's even happened to him before, but he needed it to not be right now.

tears welled up in his eyes as his belly cramps, hearing a voice call into the bathroom. "love?" he hears his partner ask. he looks up at the ceiling, rubbing desperate circles into his bladder to try to get himself to loosen up.

"in here..." he whines, feeling a small dribble leave him. a little bit of relief, making him wiggle his hips in desperation for more. "come on!" he sobs out, happy nobody else was in the bathroom until his partner walked in.

"you okay?" they knock on the door, hearing a small dribble of water instead of the waterfall they expected. he whines again. "no, i-.. i cant- i can't piss. im locked up and it hurt so fucking bad i cant- fuck!" he bucks his hips and presses hard into his bladder.

they start to frown outside the door, but then smile a little. "maybe that's just what your body wants." he gasps as another dribble leaves him. "not- not right now, i know you're horny but i can't-"

"didn't ask. im telling you your body doesn't want to piss. look at it right now, you've been holding for four hours and can't get a stream going."

he's staring down at his junk and watches as the stream cuts off again. he leans forward a little as his belly cramps, bladder still achingly full despite the small, small relief. "let me piss, pleaseeeee..." he begs, not sure exactly who to. he hears his partner laugh as he pushes into his bladder again, then gasps sharply.

everything moves quick from there. he feels it rushing down, feels the ache subside as his muscles give way. the stream starts and it doesn't stop, a moan leaving his lips. he hears a sound from his partner but can't make it out over his own bliss, his hands still shaking as his bladder empties itself.