Desperate for a Story: Pee Desperation Stories

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The reply was curt; almost hurt. But Sol couldn't care about whether Damien was hurt or not. All he could care about was his bladder; his full and bursting bladder. He leaned forward, biting his lip harshly as his other hand joined him in his lap, squeezing rhythmically. His abdomen sloshed and pulsed with desire; but Sol just strapped on his seat belt, squirming feverishly, and told it to calm down. Sol bent forward, eyes filling with tears. Why were they stopping? There was no rest stop here. Why had they stopped? Why wasn't the car moving, dammit? Bathroom," Sol begged. He was squirming feverishly, and was aware of the constant dampness in his boxers. "Please? I have to go so bad...I..." Not allowed," Damien sang. He patted Sol's shoulder. "It's okay. We can heavily make out afterwards."

Sol!" Damien laughingly threw himself at his lean boyfriend, wrapping his arms around Sol's torso. "Hey, baby, how you doing?"Those words still never truly left his brain. It wasn't just his father - as a fourteen-year old, wetting himself was exactly what his classmates needed to make him an official target. Sol was bullied endlessly for wetting himself, both physically and verbally. It was something that would never get away from him, even as he distanced himself from the event. Sol swallowed, closing his eyes. His bladder sent urgent waves up his body, his poor abdomen containing what felt like an ocean. "I'm sorry," he said in a tired voice, eyes still closed, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. "I just...my stomach hurts, okay?" His voice broke a little - mostly because he was so scared about wetting himself. He knew Damien would dump him if that happened. Nobody wanted a baby for a boyfriend. Damien was horrified at the way Sol begged to him; the frantic pleading in his eyes, the horrible fear on his face. Damien didn't care if Sol soaked his pants - he just wanted his boyfriend to be happy. But he knew, right now, that if Sol wet himself, it was going to be a long road to getting Sol to smile ever again. He wasn't sure why, but he knew his boyfriend, and he knew that Sol needed to get to a bathroom fast. Everything is wrong, but it's not medical. Or maybe it was medical. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Other people never had these kinds of problems at seventeen, did they? Sol moaned loudly, body wrenching forward, hands jammed in his crotch. His boxers were wet and damp, encouraging the rest of his bladder to pour over them. Sol winced and squeezed and wriggled. He couldn't give in. He couldn't- I was gone for five seconds," Sol huffed, sliding next to Damien. His bladder whimpered when it realized that it wasn't going to get the relief it craved, but Sol hushed it, and instead settled for crossing his legs tightly and smiling at Damien. "But I guess I can lie and say I missed you too. Just to make you feel better."

A cute little Finchel story for the Glee fans (kinda) based on Glee: Season 3 Episode 13 and one-line from Glee: Season 1 Episode 10. No!" Sol gasped out. "No, please, don't." He couldn't go to the ER. He didn't want to prolong relief longer than he had to. When they arrived to Damien's apartment, Damien lifted the boy bridal style and carried him to his empty bed. Getting a pair of his old sweatpants, he carefully peeled down Sol's jeans and boxers. He knew Sol would be embarrassed about it later, but he didn't want the jeans to chafe Sol's legs, so he carefully replaced Sol's pants and boxers with his own pair. They were a bit loose around Sol's waist, but Damien could careless.

CONTENT WARNING!!!

After all, wetting yourself while fully conscious and awake, even at fourteen, was pretty abnormal. It becomes apparent that the Tower's resident teenager has some... aiming issues. It falls to Tony to solve them.

But you sound like you're dying," Damien proclaimed. "I don't want you to go home if it's something serious." Damien would help Sol realize what a wonderful person he was, and he would help Sol get over the crushing words from his father. Sol's head whipped up; relief swarmed his body in a furious rush of exhilaration. They were in his driveway - in the driveway that led to his quaint little house that had a quaint little bathroom. And then - all at once - horror settled deep in his stomach, along with his full bladder. Sol had planned to act composed when Damien came around to open his door, but all his composure left the window when he saw the lights on in his house. Sol whirled around, and made an "oomph" noise as the tingles from the ground rushed to his full bladder; the quivering organ full and round with piss. He knew it pretty pathetic to feel full after one glass of coke, but the coke had been extra large, and Sol wasn't used to holding it. He always took precaution to go every hour, so his bladder muscles had weakened considerably over the years. To top it off, he'd never had the largest bladder to begin with.Sol shook his head in exasperation, and Damien hooked his hand into Sol's. The two of them had been dating for almost a year now, and Sol didn't know what he would do without Damien. He himself had always had a sort of negative, boring outlook on life, but Damien was like energy and sunshine and flowers all wrapped in a happy little bundle. He loved Damian for that. For bringing some light into his life. Now, Sol's father had never been the nicest man, and although he was never quite abusive or outright mean, he was very big on being a man and not showing weakness. Always stern and rarely showing love or affection, his father had been quite unnerved by Sol's accident. Instead of offering support, he had told Sol he was acting like a girl and that that was the definition of weak. Sol could still remember the words his father had said to him before he'd went to bed that night. "My son would never do something as weak as this. You may live in this house, and I may support you with money and shelter, but you are, and never will again be considered my son." Damien must have sensed his pain, even if he thought it was from the stomachache, and leaned forward to tenderly kiss him on the cheek. "Sorry, babe. I know you're in pain. Let's take you home." Damien waved to the woman to pay for the bill, before wrapping his arms around Sol and pulling him close. He helped him up, and the moment Sol stood upright, his bladder contracted in agony. He hated himself at that moment. For being gay, for having a small bladder, for being so stupid as to let it get this bad.