Show and Tell

The school bell rang, and in the halls teenage hearts were light, souls were filled with joy and libidos were fueled by lustful thoughts. No, it wasn’t the end of the day. There was one more class to go. And not every student was consumed by this passion. No, the good feelings were limited to the handful of students whose next class would be taught by the one, the only, Ms. Timberlake. Ms. Timberlake was the most popular teacher in school, probably the most popular person, more popular than the head cheerleader, prom queen and homecoming queen combined. No mere blonde debutante or yearbook princess could hold a candle to her. An American father and an Indian mother had combined to give her an exotic look, Eastern and Western features that, along with a curvaceous California body, caused rubbernecking and minor collisions in the halls as she strode gracefully to and fro. Not bound by the school’s annoying dress code, she often appeared at work in the most micro of miniskirts, the tightest of pants and shirts, and fabrics like leather and spandex and soft cotton that molded themselves to her luscious ass and rounded tits and the olive skin they came with. What made the student body craziest was that the naive Ms. Timberlake seemed not to know what her sexiness did to their adolescent psyches. The innocence and sweetness inherent in her personality were enough to inspire the most base of urges in her classes. Lest it be thought that Ms. Timberlake was just a pretty face, she was also popular as an instructor. Her students genuinely loved having lessons with her. They assumed she used her looks to lure them in (perfectly content that the bait worked so well), then once they were her captive audience, used an imaginative and fun style to teach the class what they needed to know. The sights were less distracting than one would suspect, and Ms. Timberlake could proudly claim that no student had flunked her class in the three years she’d been teaching. The most popular feature of her lessons was the weekly Demonstration Class, known more commonly as “Show and Tell” Day, in which she used a live demonstration or experiment to launch the class into a discussion of the current topic. It was this that her last class anticipated most. Today was “Show and Tell” Day, and though her earlier classes were sworn to secrecy as to what would be presented, teens will talk, and the students of this class knew to expect something spectacular. They rushed to her classroom, all of them wanting to get in and get the event started. As they entered the room, they saw Ms. Timberlake at the blackboard. She was bent low, writing at the bottom. She was encased in a pair of soft, white capri pants and a pink, tight halter. Her long, shapely legs were together and shifting slightly as they balanced on her white, high–heeled sandal shoes, and the action caused her high, beautiful ass to sway ever so lightly. Every pair of adolescent eyes took in every inch of covered and uncovered flesh, and male and female moans stifled as each student had an uncontrollable flash of fantasy, each imagining a different version of the same scene: Ms. Timberlake, naked, sweaty, writhing uncontrollably with ecstasy in his or her bed. “Hurry up and sit down, class!” Ms. Timberlake said as she heard people entering. “I want to get started right away!” She noted that her students were on time again. They were always on time, and she wondered why her colleagues were always complaining about students coming to class late. As they sat, those students that managed to tear their eyes away from their teacher looked around for props that might be used for a demonstration, hoping to get an idea of what it might be. The more attentive ones noticed that the only things out of place in the classroom were a glass and a pitcher on Ms. Timberlake’s desk. The pitcher was half–full with what looked like iced tea. Ms. Timberlake was still smiling as she made her way to the front of her desk. She was taking small steps, walking as if she couldn’t get her balance in her shoes, but the heels were wide and squared. When she got around to the front she leaned back on it, resting her cute butt on the edge. Her smile disappeared for a moment when her full lips pursed as she sat back, releasing what she thought was an inaudible “Oooh”. She sat with her legs out straight and close together, and everyone noticed when they bent at the knees for a split second before straightening out. When Ms. Timberlake wiggled her derriere just a little when it settled on the desktop, the truly astute students realized that this had the potential to be the greatest “Show and Tell” of them all. Ms. Timberlake folded her hands in her lap as she began. “Okay, I assume that all of you read the chapter on the Urinary Tract last night?” She received a chorus of nods in response. “Good. That means we can get right into it. Okay, today is ‘Show and Tell’ Day and for this subject I’ve planned something special. Our subject for ‘Show and Tell’ is…Me! Well, a part of me, anyway.” She rested her hands flat on her lower abdomen, just above her groin. “This part here, my bladder. It’s…full, and according to the textbook there’s a limit to how much can be in there at one time. Now, I already have an idea of how much I’m holding in, but I want to be sure, and I need you to tell me how much you think it is. Here are a couple of clues.” She indicated the pitcher. “This pitcher was full before this class. I drank the half that’s missing, then spent my period off having a nice nap. I didn’t have anything to eat, so all the waste is fluid. Plus, everyone’s bladder works all the time, liquid intake or not.” She suddenly closed her eyes and inhaled sharply as she braced herself with her hands on the desk, making her gorgeous breasts rise and fall. When she composed herself she continued. “Now, I really have to go to the bathroom, but I can’t leave until I get today’s lesson going. So I need you to tell me, how much pee–pee is my poor little bladder holding? There are two possible answers, and just to be thorough I want you to tell me both, in liters, and I won’t leave until I get the right answers. I’m not worried, though, because I’m sure you all know the answers right off. After all you did read the chapter…right?” This time the chorus of nods was accompanied by a collection of grins. The look of panic that had come to her face as she had said the last was absolutely priceless, as was the look of relief and the wide smile that came a second later, and in that moment a decision was made. There was no discussion, no notes passed or signals flashed, just a sort of mass telepathy that brought every student to share the same goal. With a silent apology to their favorite teacher, they prepared to strike. “So, who wants to go first?” Ms. Timberlake asked sweetly. “Jill!” Jill, a pretty brunette in the front row, had put her hand up first. “I think I know. Okay, I think you can hold it longer when you’re sitting down than when you’re standing up, so I guess you can hold more, too, so I’ll say that you can hold 3 liters when you’re sitting and 2 when you’re standing.” The smile melted from Ms. Timberlake’s face as she looked at Jill’s prideful one, sure she had given the right answer. “Um…that’s not quite right, Jill. Anyone else? Bart!” Bart put his hand down. “I got this. It’s 3 when you’re sitting but only one when you stand.” He looked awfully smug as he said it. Ms. Timberlake bit her lip for a moment, and her thighs squeezed almost imperceptibly closer together as she said: “N–no, Bart. That’s not right, either. Megan?” “You two are way off!” chided Megan, a cute blond cheerleader. “Do you know how small a liter is? It’s obviously more! You can probably hold about ten liters when you sit down, right Ms. Timberlake?” The teacher suddenly had a look of dread on her face. She crossed her feet and squirmed a little on the desk. “Um, no, Megan. Look, I think you guys are not concentrating on the reading material. It was all right there. Just take a second and think about it.” And as they thought, Ms. Timberlake’s nails dug into wood as she grasped the desk and pushed her ass hard into the edge. The pain made her close her eyes and wince a little, but the pressure helped hold back her pee, just a bit. She was full, all right, and had been full for too long. She needed to pee so badly! She opened her eyes and looked hopeful when another student’s hand was raised. “Yes, Cliff?” She said. “Is this gonna be on a test?” Cliff, the football hero asked. It was the perfect question coming from him, the others thought, while Ms. Timberlake wondered how he managed to pass exam after exam. “Yes, Cliff,” she said, a hint of despair in her voice, “it will, just like everything else I teach you.” “Okay, just checkin’. So, what we got here is, like, two answers to the same question, and since it’s liters it’s like math, right? So that means that one number is maybe the square root or somethin’ of the other number, right?” It was rare that Ms. Timberlake wasn’t the center of attention in her own class, but at that moment every pair of eyes turned to look at Cliff, hitting him with looks of confusion, most of them feigned. The teacher didn’t care, since it gave her the opportunity to twist her legs together for a moment without anyone seeing. Her piss was pressing hard inside her, and she couldn’t help but wiggle a little. The fluid was sloshing around in her body, and the sensation was so consuming she could barely concentrate. “Look,” she said when she composed herself, “try and concentrate on the clues I gave you. The pitcher, it’s standard. They make them all the same size. How much is gone now? I had a long nap, and slept very deeply. Think about what you read. What did it say about sleeping and bladder retention?” Minnie’s hand shot up at that. “Ms. Timberlake, isn’t sleeping like a brain thing? And wouldn’t it be in the ‘brain’ chapter?” Ms. Timberlake whimpered softly and pressed her ass ever harder into the desk. It wasn’t helping anymore. She’d read the chapter thoroughly and knew exactly what was happening inside her. If she didn’t get to a toilet soon her urethra would be forced open by the sheer weight of her urine. What was wrong with her class today? She couldn’t keep it in much longer, and if she peed she would pee totally, bursting like a water balloon. She never kept in any amount for very long. She was about to try another tack when Rob raised his hand. “Is this like a trick question? Do we have to know something about the brain to get this?” “Of course not!” Megan chimed in. “Peeing is like one of those involuntary muscle things. When you gotta go, ya gotta go, right, Ms. Timberlake?” “You are so right, Megan.” Ms. Timberlake breathed. “So, when you gotta go, your brain doesn’t have any say in the matter, except trying to figure out where to go, so its not a brain thing!” It was amazing how Ms. Timberlake managed to look both tortured and perplexed at once as she tried to digest Megan’s theory, but eventually tortured won out, and she winced a little as she responded. “Uh, Megan…your logic is a little flawed…” “Oh, wait! I got it!” said Iris, a strawberry blonde vegan very in tune with her karma. “It’s like a whole zen, mind–over–matter thing, where like your mind controls how much you can hold through meditation and biofeedback. You know, “see the bladder, feel the bladder, become the bladder’, ‘see the bladder, feel the bladder, become the bladder’…” Ms. Timberlake could “see” her bladder well enough, both literally and figuratively. It was distended and strained, and she could “feel” it trying hard to resist releasing its contents in spite of the uncomfortable sensations of heat and coursing liquid, and as Iris kept repeating the chant it became harder and harder to sit still in front of the class. Her knees had started taking turns rubbing up and down against the opposite leg, and her toes pointed down as they rose from the floor, flexing her leg muscles so the white capris were stretched tight around them. She wanted frantically to grab her crotch and squeeze it shut, but it would be an unseemly thing to do in front of her class. “Iris, stop!” She finally pleaded. “Please, we’re getting off the subject here.” She couldn’t stop moving. As her legs rubbed against each other her ass squirmed on the desk, back and forth, side to side. She was breathing heavily, every now and again inhaling through her teeth with a sibilant hiss. A few tearless sobs escaped from her as she raked her fingers through her short black hair, which was starting to stick to her forehead with beads of sweat. I’ve got to pee, I’ve got to pee, I’ve got to PEE! She thought as she screwed her eyes shut tight and fought to control her body. Oh, I can’t hold this much water anymore! With her eyes closed, she couldn’t see the looks of anticipation that had overtaken the faces of her students. They watched the writhing, squirming, wriggling teacher in awe, and the tabletops of the desks hid a multitude of other reactions. An erection had managed to find a home in the pants of every male student, while a majority of the females felt a different type of wetness coat and saturate their panties. Those girls not turned on had to cross their own legs tight, experiencing sympathetic fullness in their own bladders as they felt for the instructor. Finally, Ms. Timberlake planted her left foot flat on the floor and wrapped her right leg around the left, hooking her right ankle behind the other. She didn’t want to grab her crotch but she needed her hands to help, so she put her palms together and jammed them between her legs, pressing her wrists against her lower abdomen. Her back arched as she started to rock back and forth, her chest heaving as she whimpered and sobbed under her breath. Rob, rubbing his hard–on through his pants, had a head–on view, and wondered what she looked like from the side. Jill, who could see her from the side, wished she could see what she looked like from below. Ms. Timberlake took a deep breath, and managed to get enough control to continue. “Okay, class,” she rasped, “let’s keep trying. Just remember what you read and concentrate on what you see. I still have faith in you, but I have to be honest. I can’t hold it anymore, so I really, really need you to come up with the right answers so we can move on. Is there anyone who remembers what they are?” Every student made a big show of trying to think up the answers, scratching their heads, looking pensive, drumming their fingers on the desktops. Ms. Timberlake became more desperate with each passing moment, expecting to lose control any second. Finally, in an absent–minded fashion, Iris reached down and pulled a bottled water out of her bag. As she twisted it open, staring thoughtfully into space, she lost her grip and the plastic bottle bounced off the tabletop and toppled on its side, pouring a third of its contents onto the floor with a loud splash before falling into her lap. Ms. Timberlake froze, staring wide–eyed at the stream of water as it seemed to fall to the floor in slow motion. At that point she winced and let out a child–like squeak as she felt a rush of hot piss jet into her pants. The stream flowed swiftly down her legs and up her butt, and a small waterfall of it cascaded down the desk, coinciding with a series of drops that fell from her bottom to the tile. She tried to stand up in her “hold–it” position but couldn’t find her balance, and another, stronger jet streamed out of her as she teetered. It flowed down her legs like a river and began to pool on the floor beneath her. Ultimately, she had to stand normally to keep from falling, and this time she had no qualms about grabbing her crotch with both hands as her thighs squeezed shut, but it was too late. A final burst stormed out of her, streaming hot liquid through her pants and hands, and a rainshower of piss poured down between her legs, forming a massive puddle which spread far and wide, reaching out past the desks in the first row. As the puddle expanded, several muffled groans sounded in the room. Rob had caused a stain of his own in his pants with all the rubbing. The spilled water on her long skirt hid the creaming Iris had just given her panties. Megan couldn’t stop the hard squirt of pee she sprayed in her cheerleading uniform briefs, and her thighs quivered rapidly against each other to prevent any more. Soon Ms. Timberlake relaxed and stood up straight, spreading her legs and letting the pee come out. Her pants were soaked through, with only thin stripes of white along the sides untouched. The saturated part was shiny and slick, and translucent. The color of Ms. Timberlake’s legs could be seen, as well as the lines of her panties, and the dark patch at the junction of her legs could only be one thing. The teacher luxuriated in just being able to pee after holding so much for so long. Her breathing slowly returned to normal as she slowly inhaled and exhaled through her pursed lips. She closed her eyes, letting the feeling lull her. Soon she was empty, and opened her eyes to see her class staring at her. Suddenly a wave of embarrassment hit, and she grabbed her crotch again, this time to hide it from view. She bit her lip and looked back at the class, wondering what she could say or do to salvage the situation. Surely they had lost respect for her. She dreaded having to listen when a student raised her hand. “Yes?” She said. Jill put her hand down, the free one. The other was in between her legs, where it had come to rest after the activity it was engaged in under her skirt. Her feet were resting in the puddle of piss Ms. Timberlake had made, causing ripples in the reflective yellow pool. She pulled her long, disheveled hair out of her face, which was flushed pink. “I…,” she rasped, “I think I know the answers.” “Do you?” Ms. Timberlake asked hopefully. Jill looked down at the puddle, then up at the teacher, smiling. “Well, the pitcher over there is a two liter one, right? So half of that would be one liter. Then you said you took a long nap, so sleeping helps determine how much you can hold. Then, well, this puddle is about as big as the one I made when I spilled a bottle of soda when I was a kid. “So, I remember that the book says an average bladder can hold only a few hundred milliliters of urine comfortably when a person’s up and moving around, but when you’re asleep, your bladder can hold over a liter. So the answer is that you should have stopped at one glass of iced tea, which was probably about a quarter of a liter, but you finished half the pitcher and went to sleep, which left you holding that liter and then some when you woke up. Right?” Ms. Timberlake’s mouth quivered into a smile, a wide one. Far from being bitter, she was overjoyed that at least someone knew the right response and everyone else now knew it as well. “Very good, Jill.” With that, Ms. Timberlake sheepishly turned around to go to the blackboard. Everyone stifled a groan as they saw the damage done to the back of her pants. Her ass was completely exposed, since the white capris were now see–through and she had decided to wear thong underwear. Her cheeks jiggled beautifully as she walked up to the board, then flexed and poked out as she stood on her tiptoes to write the answers down. When she was done, she turned back to the class, clutching her groin again. “Okay, I have to go…freshen up, and get someone to clean up in here. In the meantime I’d like you to answer the other questions on the board.” With that she trotted out of the classroom, rushing so single–mindedly to the bathroom that she didn’t hear the exchange of quiet cheers that erupted in her room: “That was so awesome!” “God, I want to fuck her!” “I’d kill to taste her puss right now!” “Iris, you RULE!!” As Ms. Timberlake slinked out of her pants in a bathroom stall, she looked down at her glistening thighs and thought: I’d better rethink the demonstration on the digestive system. This is the third time today!
Fox