Contest

Note: This story contains Female Desperation, Accidental & Deliberate Wetting, and Humiliation.
Ever since my last accident, I’d been thinking on how to best go about my next wetting. Every idea just seemed too bold for me. I liked what I felt to a certain extent, but most of my initial ideas would potentially put me in very socially dangerous situations. I kept arguing with myself in that regard, because it is entirely the point to feel that danger. The simple release is nothing without thought of losing it, the fear of utter humiliation.
That’s when I came up with my plan. I wanted to pee in front of someone but have it not matter. I wanted to experience the urgency of a consequence to flooding my pants. And my plan was perfect…
I would challenge a friend to a “hold–it” contest. We would hold out until one of us would eventually pee our pants. This would be killing two birds with one stone too. So long as I won, I would get to see a girl pee herself and get to “not make it in time” to the bathroom and pee myself as well.
I had chosen my opponent, Jen, a heavyset brunet who would cross the ocean for me. I had chosen my location, my place when my parents were out. The real trick was initiating the challenge. I mean, you can’t just walk up to your friend, whip out the white glove, and have at it. But I had a decent idea that was just crazy enough to work.
Jen is a Smash Bros. professional. I’m not half bad, myself, but nowhere near Jen’s level. If I have a maximum difficulty computer on my team versus her alone, I have about a fifty percent chance of winning against Jen. My plan was to try to initiate the challenge somewhere in the playing process. I figured with the competitive spirit of the game, she’d have a better chance of accepting the challenge.
Jen came over at 3 and I poured her a glass of water–– distilled water. I had a half glass of tap and we began our usual rituals. I made sure to be constantly thirsty and always offer a fill. Once she started refusing, I decided to set my plan into motion.
“Hey, Jen, wanna play some Smash?”
Jen smiled and tilted her head at me, “Feeling confident, today, are we? Bring it on, girlfriend.”
I giggled at her, “You tard.”
When the moment was right, I began planting the seeds of the challenge, “Oh, man, I REALLY have to go for some reason,” I toyed.
“Yeah, me too,” she emptily commented, completely enthralled by the moving colors on the screen.
After a series of power hits, I paused and spoke up, “Hey, lets make this interesting: How’s about the winner gets to order the loser to do something?”
“Huh,” she said, acting surprised and trying hiding her confident smirk. “That does sounds like a good idea.”
I quickly un–paused the game and then snuck in a quick blow. “Hey, that’s not fair!” she screamed, pushing me over.
Hitting the floor made me realize just how bad I actually did have to go. I got right back into the game and tried to focus. It was a close game for sure, but I ended up on top.
“YES!” I shouted, crossing my legs a little bit to alleviate the pressure growing between them. “Ok, now I get to tell you to do something.”
“Alright, fine, what’ll it be?”
“I want you to––” I froze up, I couldn’t believe I was going to ask her to pee her pants, “We should––”
“What?” she pressed, “We should what?”
With the social grace of a bull in a china shop, I spoke the truth flatly and completely out of the blue, “You should pee your pants.”
Silence. She was completely unprepared and dumbfounded by my request. Shit, I thought to myself, I totally fracked that up. She’ll never go for it, she’ll never agree to just pee her pants. I’m so stupid!
After a moment, she burst out laughing. “Yeah, right! Why don’t you pee your pants?”
YES! There is still a chance! Like a cobra, I struck right back, “Is that a challenge?”
“A pee contest?” she said with some reluctance. I pressed my legs together in mock desperation to egg her on. “I accept.”
Holy shit, holy shit, I’m going to have a holding contest with Jen. She’s gonna pee her pants right in front of me. Holy shit. “Loser cleans up?” I said, holding back my excitement.
“YOU clean up,” she smiled back at me, “Ok, here’s how this is going to go down. We both drink two glasses of water right now. Bathroom door remains closed until you pee your pants. There are no surrenders, you cannot take off your pants to pee, and there is absolutely no tickling allowed.”
“You’re awfully well versed.” I posed.
“I’ve won this petty challenge a few times,” she boasted. “You think you’ve got a chance, you better reconsider.”
I gulped down a lump, she was much bigger than me, she probably had a stronger bladder, and she probably wasn’t lying about winning. But I had to see this out. I had the upper hand with the distilled water. I would get to watch her pee her pants and that was that, “Not a chance.”
Jen immediately walked over to the fridge and poured two glasses of water. She handed one to me and said, “Once you drink this, you aren’t taking your pants off till you pee in them.”
I took the glass and looked her in the eye as I replied, “Not if you lose control first.” I took a long drink.
About twenty minutes later, the fight was on. We had begun to play King’s Cross (card game), and I could tell that she was reaching her limit. The problem was that I was too. Even after the distilled water and the glasses she had just downed, she still appeared to be going strong. I couldn’t say the same for myself.
But I was prepared. I began to exaggerate my need. I wanted her to think she had more of an advantage than she actually did, “Ooo, shit, I REALLY have to pee.” I pressed my hand firmly on my crotch and tried to look as desperate as possible. Jen’s confidence will be her downfall, I thought.
“Just pee then, you know you are going to lose,” Jen crossed her legs as she spoke, her tight jeans tugging tighter around her fullness. I knew she was close. So close I could see it happening.
For a moment, I said nothing, thinking only of the moment where she would release the torrent into her pants, “What, cat got your tongue? Or does little Daisy have a bigger problem?” She laughed. “Just face it, D, you are going to wet yourself, just accept it.”
I plan on it, I thought with a slight smirk. The real problem was getting her to pee before me. My mind and heart raced, imagining the streams streak down through those tight legs. I could hardly contain myself. And that was making my predicament even worse. The pressure building up inside of me was now beyond simple pain. Each wave was a battle to keep hold. I still had time, but not much left.
Despite all her high talk, Jen began to quiet up. She also had her hand buried between those big, bouncing legs of hers. She was close. The distilled water must be catching up with her by now, I thought. But with each passing moment, my own need got greater. My every thought became how to hold it in just another few minutes. After all this build up, I couldn’t stand not to see her pee her pants.
Jen was on the brink. She was bouncing, biting her lip; her eyebrows began to tense into a very worried expression, she no longer spoke, and every ten or fifteen seconds I could swear I would hear her moan. But I was far too close to be enjoying any of it. I was not thinking of Jen anymore, I was simply trying to keep my pee in my pants. Soon as she starts peeing, just let loose, I repeated over and over to myself, all you have to do is just wait till she starts peeing.
“You pee yet?” Jen queried. She put on her best poker face and challenged: “I am doing just fine over here.”
Somewhere in my desperation, I realized I knew what I was feeling right now. I had been in this same position not a few days prior when I had a real accident. And I was about to have another. Shit, shit, shit! I screamed to myself, I HAVE to see her wet her pants! Please, God, let me just hold out long enough.
“Oh!” Jen screamed lightly. I jolted my head in her direction so quickly I thought it would fall off. Her full–bodied frame stood hunched over with a hand deep between her legs. I stared openly between her legs, waiting for the telltale hiss and growing patch, but none appeared. Without warning, she pointed and spoke, “Oh, holy shit, look at that bird just out the window!”
The second I turned my head, Jen’s hands wrapped around my midsection and she began to tickle me.
“NOOO!” I screamed as I kicked and spurted into my pants, “Not FAAIR! Aaaaaahhh!”
“I saw some pee!” She exclaimed. “I get to use the toilet now!”
Over my dead body, you do. As she made a mad hobble towards the bathroom, I full on tackled her. Even though I grabbed her from the side, she twisted around and was able to land straddling on top of me. She ended up sitting right on my belly and a huge wave of pressure wracked my poor bladder. I grabbed her legs about the knees hard as another small spurt escaped and I could feel the wetness halfway down my leg. If this had been my recent accident, that spurt would have been the last for my floodgates, but I had more at stake this day. I somehow stemmed the flow before it got out of control.
But I could still feel the wetness spreading! NO NO NO, I can’t be wetting my pants, not before she does.
“NO!!!!!! Aaahh! Sorry! Aahh, Nonooooo,” Jen was crying hysterically on top of me and through my true desperation to hold my pee, I opened my eyes to see her straddling me with pee shooting out in every direction through her pants like a faucet right down between my legs. I haven’t lost control, I realized, SHE has!! Oh my God, Jen is peeing on me!
The thought of Jen peeing in her jeans was hot enough to bring me to the edge of climax, but for her to be peeing on me and to have such an intense need myself, I practically died the second I let loose my pee full force into my jeans.
The pee poured from inside me and puddled under my ass as Jen’s fountain cascaded over my belly and down between my legs.
Jen’s stream stopped prematurely and she rolled off me in one last futile attempt to get to the bathroom. She crawled halfway to her feet, giving me a spectacular view of her ass and the damage her accident just caused. The wetness had spread nearly all the way around her legs just past the knee. With how much water she drank, I knew she still had a lot more pee to release. I watched in euphoria as she tensed up and her jeans began to glisten again.
“Nooo,” she tensed up and slid gently down to the ground again, sitting on her knees. The flood resumed again from this angle. I continued to pee.
As Jen just sat there in her own pee lightly sobbing and I realized that I was the only one who had fun here. I guess I’d volunteer to clean up. It’s what friends do for each other, right?
I got up to the awkward sensation of wetness, but nowhere near like last time. Last time, my water damage was localized to my inner legs and a little in my shoes. This time I was wet completely around my pelvis, my ass was drenched, I had a little up in my midsection, and even some wetness on my back from the puddle. I hobbled past Jen and grabbed some towels from the bathroom.
“I lost, go get changed and I’ll make you some lunch. I feel really bad about tackling you.”
After a few sobs, she calmed down a little, “No… I actually lost first. I don’t know what was wrong with me– I lost control so fast. I started peeing when I began tickling you. Even if you hadn’t tackled me, I would not have made it.”
“You aren’t just saying that?” I feigned sincerity as I began wiping up the piss, “You really should have won.”
“Next time we’ll have a fair competition and I’ll outlast you by a day and a half.”
“N–next time?” I stammered.
“Next time we pee beforehand and I get to watch you pee all over yourself.”
“We’ll see about that.”
By: Daisy