The Soccer Game

This story contains Female Desperation and Female Wetting.
Robin rocketed out of bed just as her alarm clock exploded with sound. Robin swore, checked the time and swore louder. She was late for soccer practice AGAIN and Coach Martin would not be so understanding this time. The game was to start in just 10 minutes and Robin knew that she’d be very late. Tossing on a sports bra, Robin hurried to the bathroom to comb her hair and brush her teeth. She had to pee but figured she could do that in the locker room. Besides, she just didn’t have the time.
Pulling her strawberry–blonde hair back in a quick ponytail, Robin glanced at the clock again. It was 5 minutes to 10, meaning she had just 5 minutes to get to the field, a good 7 blocks away. Robin grabbed a few sports drinks and crammed them into her backpack, briefly checked herself in the mirror and bolted out the door. She hastily ran as fast as she could to Mill’s Field, her bladder throbbing all the way, where she spotted Coach Martin on the field with the rest of the team. Red–faced and out of breath Robin raced up to meet them.
“Robin!” Bellowed Coach Martin angrily. “You’re late!”
“Sorry Coach Martin, I overslept.” Robin apologized, trying to catch her breath. She plummeted down on the metal bench, feeling her bladder tense up inside of her.
“This is the second time in a row Robin, and I warned you. For the entirety of this game Robin, you’re sitting out.”
Robin’s face fell. “Yes Coach Martin.” Robin replied, looking shyly at the dirt below her. It was a shame; She was already in uniform and everything.
“Good, maybe next time you’ll learn your lesson.” He snarled. “ Are you ready team?” shouted Coach Martin in an attempt to get all of the Junior Soccer team riled up and ready to play. The entire team cheered in response.
“Can I just go to the bathroom Coach Martin?” asked Robin, meekly, knowing she would never last the entire game with a bladder this full. Coach Martin glowered down upon Robin. She knew her answer. Robin sighed longingly, feeling the pressure mounting in her bladder. Coach Martin blew her whistle and Robin’s teammates went to take their places on the field. Robin watched longingly, wishing she’d get to play. Then again, she was glad she didn’t have to play, for her bladder was aching, and any sport would definitely torture the will of her urethra.
Despite the growing tension just below her abdomen, Robin felt terribly thirsty, as the team bench was situated under the authority of the scorching summer sun. Pulling out a sports drink from her bag under the bench, Robin drank thirstily, fully aware of how bad she needed to pee. However, there was no sense in dehydrating due to a little (okay, a LOT) of discomfort and with enough pitiful begging, Robin figured she’d get to go to the bathroom if things got urgent enough. Robin casually crossed her legs and squeezed her pelvic muscles as she took another gulp of her drink. She just hoped Coach Martin would understand.
Robin allowed her thoughts to wander, sitting there under the hot summer sun, nursing her drink subconsciously. She was painfully aware of the fullness in her bladder and even more aware on how it was rapidly filling to the brim. Clenching her thighs tighter together, she swung her knees back and forth, feeling her bladder shift with every pull and push of her hip muscles to the rhythm. Robin started on another drink, for she had thoroughly drained the first, letting her mind drift to the soccer game, in which she was not participating. She got lost for several minutes in the excitement and joy of the game, one of her first loves. If only she would have gotten up on time, or not been late the week before, if only she had PEED before she had left, then she would not be stuck with a bladder that felt like a watermelon inside her body. She watched her fellow teammates play with both determination and stealth, and drowned out the heaviness in her bladder. She gazed in awe for an eternity, feeling the excitement when her team scored a goal, the disappointment when the other team had their small victory, and the anticipation of the battle between the two armies. Her enthrallment went uninterrupted until the first trickle of urine escaped her labia. Robin gasped, tightening the grip on her thighs until her muscles were visibly bulging out of her green vinyl soccer shorts.
It was a short while before the small jet of pee ceased. She buried her red and embarrassed face in her hands, praying that it didn’t soak through. She felt as if the whole stadium knew what she had done, that she had to pee, BAD, that she was DYING to go urinate, that she could barely CONTROL it! Robin moaned, a small outlet of her silent inner agony, as she lightly palpated her swollen bladder.
Oh god I have to pee!!! She moaned to herself, gritting her teeth. The slight sensation of her hand briskly sweeping across her abdomen caused immense pain and pressure. She wished she would have stayed home, had she known this would happen, had she known that she’d have to go this bad this early, that she’d even be stuck in this position. She’d rather study for her SAT’s which were coming up in a couple of weeks. Robin regained composure for the moment, sighing longingly, knowing that Coach Martin would never let her go, not in a million years. Feeling hot, Robin surrendered and took another swig at her powerful sports drink. She was growing antsy. She had to pee; she had to pee NOW! The poor girl gasped and lurched forward as another spasm wracked her tight bladder, bursting with fluid. Another jet of hot urine bathed her labia, as Robin struggled to stem the light flow. By now her panties were surely wet, and she was positive that the back of her green vinyl shorts were showing signs of distress. If only I could… Robin’s brain screamed, as a little more pee escaped her lethal grip. Robin observed her inner thighs and sure enough, there was a small puddle on the bench by her vagina. Her shorts were wet between her legs and under her bottom, where she sat, a prisoner at the bench, and yearning to pee! Her urethra stung with longing to release such a burden, her bladder ached and spasmed for relief from this terrible punishment (?) called desperation. And poor Robin, the worst subject in this scenario had to deal with all this pain, as she tried to retain her dignity, after all, almost in college, and here she was, peeing herself in small spurts on her bench. Robin removed her hand from between her legs and relaxed her thighs. She vowed to hold it in with grace, till the very last goal and beyond. However, all her plans and ideals were ditched when the next contraction seized her with such force that she began crying with such a need so great. With her legs jammed tightly together, a hand sandwiched in between, and Robin, bouncing around like a jumping bean, even that was not enough to stop an impending flood as more urine seeped out and began to trickle off of the bench and patter onto the dirt below her. At least she was alone on this bench. At least she could struggle with her relentless need for relief in private. Robin looked down, assessing the damage. The dark areas on her shorts, due to small accidents, had spread a little more; so much, in fact, that the wetness was visible at the waistband of her shorts. The moisture was creeping outward, so much that it wasn’t just being contained between her legs, but creeping out to be visible on the front of her shorts as well. She could feel as she squirmed around on the bench, that the seat of her soccer shorts was drenched in her urgent releases of piss. Robin reached between her thighs, gathering up her shorts and forming a wad of wet cloth, as she pushed it against her tormented peehole and sat on it. Robin squirmed around on her knot of cloth, and a hard fist, and it helped stop the leaks temporarily. But oh, Robin was literally aching for a good piss, and even this mechanism wouldn’t last forever. More wee began to dribble out all over her hand and shorts, forming a week, solid stream, only stemmed by her hand.
This was a valiant battle, and Robin was losing. She had to do something quickly. As she returned to her usual, hunched over, ‘I have to pee so bad I could hardly move’ position, a strong gush of hot urine ambushed her hand.
Robin sprang up, letting the pee drain down her thigh. Her eyes darted across the field, and she spotted Coach Martin across the area, talking to another coach. Another contraction hit her as more scorching pee ran down the inside of her leg. “Ooh, ooh!” moaned Robin, bending down to wipe away the dribbles and to ease her hand between her legs and stem the tide. From the series and force of minor accidents she had, it looked as if she had already peed herself totally. Ironically, she had only skimmed the top of the melted iceberg, as her bladder was still full, still aching, still bursting. All that pee, both inside and on her… Robin couldn’t take it. She dashed for the side door; she had to get to a bathroom before she completely lost control.
Safe inside, Robin clutched herself even tighter, as she bent down to wipe the dribbles away from her long legs. Her socks were now dampening with her pee. Now where was the bathroom? This was not Robin’s school, and she barely knew the architecture. She would have given up now if she didn’t have to pee so badly. She was so wet it looked as if she had soaked herself totally, as if there were not another drop left in that aching bladder of hers. However, this was not the case––she had to pee something terrible, she had to get to the bathroom fast before.
“Oh god I have to PEE!!!’ cried Robin to herself, standing among a desolate hall with many intersections. She did not know what to do. Pressure increased steadily within her swollen bladder, and drew to an alarming level. She felt the first of the last stream begin to push it’s way out into her soaked panties. Robin knew this was it. She wouldn’t be able to hold it in much longer. She spied a janitors closet and blindly ran into it, distracted and driven by her own frantic need. A trail of pee followed her. Robin desperately slammed the closet door behind her. The lights were dim, and Robin madly looked around, eyeing several janitor utilities scattered amongst the small closet. Pee was running into her shoes now, forming small puddles on the floor. Desperate as all hell, Robin eyed the stationary yellow janitors’ bucket that’s such a staple in any desperate girl’s last effort in a janitor’s closet. She suddenly grew excited at the prospect of being able to pee in there. Robin hobbled over to the bucket, and her heart sank. This one was full to the brim with dirty grey water. She certainly couldn’t pee in that, and boy did she want to! By now Robin was completely exercised, could not bear to control herself any longer. If she was going to avoid peeing herself entirely, she was going to have to think now. The encumbrance of her bladder was getting too high. She felt her urethra burn as a threatening gush of preliminary pee signaled an entire flow of pee to soak herself more. In one swift movement, Robin’s wet shorts and underwear were around her ankles, and in another they were off of her body completely. The moment she got herself free of her bottom clothing, her bladder gave out and she began peeing a fierce torrent. She barely had enough time to get her legs spread to avoid it running down and getting her wet, but there was so much pressure behind that first blast that it spurted out straight, hitting the wall directly in front of her. Robin knew that she had enough pee, and enough strain in her bladder that she’d be able to do that. Robin peed with immense force, and eventually the pressure dropped a little and she peed directly on the hard floor beneath her. She heard the splatter and felt the reverb hitting against her legs. It felt good to let go, after all that time, after all those drinks. The puddle around her feet steadily increased in diameter and in volume as pee continued to pour out of Robin. It was nothing but relief to be able to let go, and had she been wearing her clothes, it would have been considered an accident. Since she was wetting nothing but the ground beneath her, it was more like a desperate deliberation.
As the first minute ticked by of Robin’s relief, her pee continued to gush out of her with bullet force, with unrelenting, desperate energy. Robin never thought she’d get to be enjoying this alleviation this quickly, or in this situation. She imagined having to spend another tedious hour on that bench and then waiting on the long lines for the bathroom, doing a desperation dance, most likely. She imagined wetting herself further, her bladder expanding further, the contractions getting more powerful. She would never have made it. Lines after games were always hell. Robin shuddered at the miserable thought, and she peed harder than ever. The floor of the janitor’s closet was entirely wet, and more pee was starting to roll its way out from beneath the door. Robin’s urethra was already numb from peeing, and had she peed for another hour or another second, she would not have noticed. All she felt was her bladder quickly deflating, as the additional seconds of great relief swept over her body. Her pee was still hitting the cement floor, hard as anything, and her bladder still had a small amount of pee left over as well. Robin feared that she’d never stop, nor would be surprised if she didn’t. She had to pee so badly, she wondered if there were days worth of the stuff pent up inside her.
With all her fantasy thoughts, however, she did stop peeing. It took a while before her bladder finally decided that it was satisfied and empty, and slowly, her jet stream of desperation turned into the slow seeping of avid fluid. And it stopped. Robin stood amongst her flood of pee for a second, looking around at her murky surroundings. The floor was wet with a giant puddle of the stuff she had fought to keep in just minutes earlier. Small droplets of pee still rolled off of the wall. Robin looked at her wet shorts, then at her drenched underwear, and sighed with incredible relief. Sure, the shorts would be a little jarring by themselves, but the underwear would cling so uncomfortably, and it was just too wet. Robin carelessly dropped her soaking panties into the puddle of pee she produced, and left them there for some unlucky janitor Monday morning. Carefully, as not to get her soccer shorts more wet from the soles of her shoes, Robin put her shorts back on and reveled in how smooth they actually felt. Where she had temporarily lost control of her full bladder earlier, it felt a little clingy, but the rest of the loose nylon felt satiny and wonderful. She looked down at her sopping underwear and giggled a little to herself. The battle she had to endure earlier was just a nightmare. With new confidence, Robin waltzed out of the janitor’s closet, leaving the pool of pee behind. Her shorts swished and tugged in the right spots as her hips swayed to her walk. It felt so good it gave her goose bumps. Her shoes left prints in urine on the floor as she walked back toward the field. She was a little worried that coach would notice her absence, or worse, that the team would notice the blaring wet marks over the crotch and back of her shorts. But these were things that she could not hide. Was it her fault that she had to pee so bad that she had several mini accidents? Was it her fault that the pressure just got so intense that she had to dash into a janitor’s closet of all places to relieve her dreadfully swollen bladder? Of course! Had she not woken up so late, this would never have happened. Had she not woken up so late, none of us would have been so entertained for the duration of this story :)
Robin slithered back on the bench, unnoticed by anyone. She hoped there was enough time in the game to allow her shorts to dry. Luckily, it was still just as hot, and before the game was over, her front was completely dried. Her backside was damp, but not discolored. She was glad that this whole thing had gone unwitnessed.
“Robin!” called Coach Martin, running up to meet her. Robin looked up “I know this game isn’t too exciting for you since you’re not playing. But tardiness is a punishable offense. Now,” Coach Martin began, considering the options. “Now I’m not going to let you play, but I’ll let you go a little earlier. However, I expect to see you on time for the rest of your career on this team.”
Robin thanked Coach Martin graciously, and thought to herself, Now if only I’d have had this privilege a half–hour ago!
Robin grabbed her bags and decided to cut through the school to get home quicker. As unfamiliar with the architecture as she was, she decided to forage her way through, maybe check out her deed in the process. Robin grabbed her bag and filed through the lead door.
“Hey!” she heard an unassuming voice call out, as Robin shuffled down the main corridor. A modest looking, yet attractive man came out of one of the classrooms. “I saw what you did.” He said to Robin, and her jaw fell.
“What do you mean?” Robin asked innocently.
The man smirked. “I saw you running down the hall with piss streaming down your legs and wet shorts. I saw you run into the janitors closet.” He began. Robin turned scarlet and smiled shyly. “That’s not all.” Added the man with an equally as red face and an equally as bashful smile. “I waited a while, then I saw some piss seep out from under the door. Then I waited a little bit more, and saw you come out. So I went in, and found these.” The man held up Robin’s wet panties. It was like something out of a movie. She hoped she could play the situation like one.
“Well, are you going to tell anyone?” Robin asked, her green eyes pleading for mercy.
The man readjusted his slacks. “Miss, that was the single most thrilling moment of my entire life. I’ve never seen anyone have to pee so bad, or pee so much.” He complimented. “Can I keep these?” he asked, referring to her soaked panties.
Robin was puzzled, and could not believe anyone could be interested in things like this. How he could be so attracted to something she had to endure so difficult? “Sure, whatever, how’d you see me though?” asked a confused Robin.
“I’m a new janitor, and I was mopping the floor in a nearby classroom. You probably didn’t see me; I just graduated from here last year. My name’s Steve.”
“Hi Steve, I’m Robin. Listen, I kind of have to pee again, can you show me to the bathrooms?” Robin asked, as her bladder was now more sensitive than before, due to her recent plight
“Yeah Robin. Right this way.” Steve said, leading Robin toward the janitor’s closet.
Chloe