My First Desperation Fic

[Archane Variant]

I've decided to try my hand at writing a desperation fic. This will be very short due to time constraints. The story is written in second person, hopefully that will make it new.

Disclaimer: I renounce all copyright claims to this work, as I am entitled to as its copyright holder. Anyone can claim this as their own work, use parts of it for anything or even make money from it, I really don't care.

You're sitting at your desk, in class, surrounded by other students. The teacher is droning on about problems in the particle-wave theory of light, and your fellow students have long since lost interest. Normally you would find this topic fascinating, but right now, you have your own, rather more personal, problem, which has to do with an ever increasing pressure in your lower abdomen. That's right, you have to pee. Bad.

You can feel your bladder stretching, and you lean back in your chair, trying to put as little pressure on it as possible. You can imagine the liquid gushing out once you finally get to a toi- gah! You shake your head, trying to clear that though from your mind. It certainly isn't helping your predicament now is it?

Alright, you decide. That's enough, you raise your hand. The teacher keeps on teaching his lesson ignoring you. You keep your hand raised, despite your cheeks flushing red from embarrassment. Eventually he sighs dramatically, as he acknowledges you.

"Yes?" he asks impatiently "This had better be about the interaction of photons with physical objects"

God, what a prat! You think to yourself.

"Um, no actually" you say, hesitantly, but clearly "Actually I wanted to ask if I could, er... go to the bathroom."

"No." he says resolutely. Turning back to the whiteboard and continuing with his lesson.

"Uh, sir?" you ask, he turns back to face you, crossing his arms "that's not really possible..."

"If you interrupt my lesson one more time, I'll see to it that you fail this class" he threatens, "do I make myself clear."

"Yes sir." you mutter

Oh well, you think to yourself, looks like I'm in for the long haul. You unbutton the top button on your jeans, and your bladder expands appreciatively. Alright now, there's only... you glance at your watch. 90 minutes! The realization hits you like a raw egg, a chill which spreads across your body, numbing your skin. There's now way. It's impossible - you're not going to make it that long.

10 minutes in, your kidneys are starting to hurt, and any small movement makes your bladder twinge.

30 minutes, your whole stomach aches, you unzip your fly a little and pull your T-shirt down to cover it up.

45 minutes, halfway there. You've given up on keeping your legs apart, they're now crossed as tightly as you can. You're so full, you can barely sit still, and you wish more than anything that you could just let it out. You can imagine it flowing out as a torrent, saturating your undies and your jeans, forming a massive puddle on the flo- gah! You shake your head to clear the image, but you do so a little too violently and a tiny spurt of urine escapes into your undies. You manage to clamp it off. You wouldn't have thought it possible, but now your need is even more desperate. You squeeze your finger tips down between your legs to check your crotch for the damage. Still dry - thank god. It's torture to pull your hand back out and place it back ontop of the table.

55 minutes, now you literally can't sit still, you bounce your legs up and down ever so slightly, trying your best to keep your hands on the table, and a look of utter desperation off your face. You can imagine your bladder stretched to its limits, forcing it's contents out between your legs, throwing them apart and knocking you back off your chair like a fire hose, floodi- gah! You know better than to shake your head this time, you just close your eyes briefly, then open them again.

60 minutes. You literally can't think of anything but your bladder, there is a rushing sound in your ears, blocking out the sounds of the classroom, and you feel as though you are faintly spinning. This seems somehow familiar, oh god, your blood runs cold, this is exactly the way you felt when you wet your pants in year 1. You manage to snap yourself out of it, and jam both your hands against your crotch. Not this time, you think forcefully.

70 minutes. Ahhhhhh, you scream inside your mind, I can't take this anymore! Why, why, why! What's the point in going on, you're only delaying the inevitable. You're grinding your thighs together and kneading your crotch. Other students are watching you, with wolfish grins. I can't, I can't.

75 minutes. Mmmmm, you moan, out loud this time. You're barely keeping it together.

"Could I have silence please" ordered the teacher

You should feel angry, but you can't, you have to pee so badly that you can't even see strait and it consumes all of your attention.

78 minutes. Maybe if you just let out a little bit, then you could make it, that makes sense right, no-one will notice if you just go a little. Just a controlled leak. In your bladder-crazed state of mind it seems like a really great idea. You start to think about releas- NO! you suddenly realize, that's not how it works. You clamp down just in time. You have trouble breathing, because even that puts an unbearable strain on your bladder.

82 minutes. Your bladder is pulsating, and your whole body feels numb, you can no feel your hands pressing against your crotch. The rushing sound is back, and the room is spinning. Faster, faster. Nothing matters now, nothing at all. Your bladder was full, and now it's emptying.There is no past, no future. No consequences, just the moment, and it is euphoric. It floods out of you, gushing like you never would have believed possible, it envelopes you in a aura of warmth, spreading rapidly from your chest to your ankles... wait, that's not right. At the edge of your consciousness your realize that you are in fact not in a class room, but in your bed. At this present moment however, you don't care. All you want it to get it out. It keeps flowing and your let out a long sigh, it seems to go on forever.

Eventually however, it does stop. You lay there shuddering with relief, until it starts to cool down, and you realize with horror what you have done. You have, completely and utterly, wet the bed.

Well? What do you think?

[Serika]

I normally don't read stuff in second person but this was neat. I like it.

[Archane Variant]

Thanks! I've liked second person - ever since someone bet me that I couldn't write an assignment in second person (I got an 'A') :)

But yeah, it is still a bit unusual. I just figured you would have so many straight up wetting fics, so I wanted to make mine a little different.