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Hi All! Here's a story! I usually go for realism, but this idea popped into my head and I ran with it. There is probably at least one more installment to follow.
This is a lightly edited version of the one I just posted in the panty poop forum – there wasn't much to take out to make it palatable for this audience.
As always, your responses go a long way toward me wanting to write more. Let me know what you think!
With my apologies to Salinger:
Franny and the Infinite Ocean
Franny's leg was shaking. Her date, Laraby, was going on again.
"Professor Morris says I have a lot of promise, you know. He sent me an email
the second he finished my essay on Proust's Moral Relativism, saying just
that. I really need to read it to you some time, you know Professor Morris
wants me to try to dress it up for publication, did I tell you that? But those
submission rules are such a bother, they really constrict true scholarship. I
say, Fran, are you listening?"
Her thumb absentmindedly tapped the filter of her cigarette as she eyed her
empty wine glass. "Waiter, I'm ever so—" she stopped as the waiter leaned in
to hear her in the noisy bar, "I'm ever so sorry, but could I get another
glass of the sancerre?" She blushed at Laraby's look, "I'm so very thirsty
tonight, Laraby, I can't ever remember being so thirsty."
Laraby looked at his watch and whistled, "Four glasses in an hour Franny, I
hope you won't be too drunk to make it to the game. Well anyway as I was
saying, Professor Morris..."
There was a glaring light over by the pool table, and Franny turned away from
it, elongating her statuesque neck. She took another drag from her cigarette
and then smiled gratefully at the waiter as he lay the new glass gently on the
table. Laraby paused mid-sentence, waiting for the server to leave, and then
launched in again.
"I mean, reading Fred's paper, you'd think Baudelaire was the first person to
think of the goddamn virtues since Aristotle, but— I say, Franny, are you
going to drink that in one go?"
Franny put the empty glass back down and fiddled with its placement on the
checked tablecloth. "Laraby, I'm so tired. All these smart people talking
about smart things and going to the damn game, and nobody really saying
anything that counts, and I'm so damn tired of it. I've been going with you
for, what a year? And you've never done anything with me that means anything.
I mean it, Laraby." Her leg was shaking like crazy, she probably looked
crazy.
"Franny, hey, you're looking pale, are you going to be all right?"
"I don't know, I don't think I know anything. You know, I've been—" she
glanced to either side, "I've been reading things, Laraby, things that excite
me more than goddamn Proust ever did."
"Like... what?"
Franny could feel it coming. It was coming, so why not just say something? But
he would never understand, no one in this whole over-intellectualized town would
ever get it. Her leg, twitching on its own for the last half hour, finally
stopped, and she knew that was it. She felt the wetness start to spread
beneath her, first pooling in her lap, then flowing out between her knees. It
was dripping, then flowing onto the floor.
He saw the look on her face, eye fluttering slightly, face suddenly flushed,
the faintest trickle of sweat on her lovely forehead. She looked like she
might be getting sick, or maybe like she did after they made love that time in
Franny's parents' apartment. Then he heard a spattering sound.
"Are you spilling your—" but one glance between his feet at the spreading puddle
and he leapt up from the table. "Franny what in God's name?"
She was panting, and had long since given up fighting. She even pushed, how
naughty is that? she thought, but then I guess this whole thing is naughty,
isn't it? She pushed harder and harder, and as she ground herself into the
chair, she felt herself explode with pleasure. She gave a little shriek, and
then felt the eyes of the whole bar on her. Laraby, without a word, grabbed
her hand and led her out of the bar, her soaked pants dripping a little trail
out the door.
****
In a well appointed neighborhood in Manhattan, nestled up on the 7th floor,
there is a cluttered, sunbathed apartment, in the living room of which we now
find Franny, hair tousled, clothing rumpled, lying on a threadbare couch
beneath an old knit blanket. Two hours after her mother bustled through,
fretting about Laraby, who has called twice, and insisting that Franny get up
this instant young lady, she remains unmoved, pretending to sleep.
****
Having lay on the couch all morning without rising, and finding it now
mid-afternoon, Franny considered getting up to do her business. Just then,
Bloomberg, the family cat, landed on her chest with a thud, having aparently
misjudged the distance from couch back to floor. Always dignified, Bloomberg
turned once and settled down atop Franny, and she lay there petting him for
another half an hour or so, until she started to doze.
Her midsection was warm but aching, and in the haze of sleep she relized that
it was too warm, and then her lap was far, far too wet.
"The couch!" She leapt up, Bloomberg scrambling to land on his feet. She had
needed to go for so long, it felt such a relief to stand there emptying
herself onto the dusty floor. But she soon had her wits about her again, and
tried to clamp off the flow as she ran to the commode, a trail of wet
footprints leading to the bathroom door.
Instead of sitting on the toilet, however, Franny chose the great claw-footed
tub. She lay back, prone as she had been all day, and lit a cigarette she
found in a pack on the windowsill. She took one drag and settled her arm onto
the tub ledge, the cigarette held loosely in her hand over the ashtray her
brother had precariously perched there. Closing her eyes, she finished pissing
through her nightgown.
It always felt so good, letting herself go like that. What a shame it had to
end every time. She brought the cigarette to her lips, then froze. The thought
in her head was unfinished, but in that moment it appeared so clearly that she
dropped the cigarette and jumped from the tub. She padded down the hallway to
her room as quickly as she could without slipping, closed the door behind her,
and plopped in front of her computer.
When the screen awoke she quickly went to the site she had been obsessing over
for the last month, an internet forum. She saw there were several new threads,
and while she was tempted to catch up on what she had missed, she instead
clicked "start new topic." The cursor sat there, blinking at her, and she
paused, tapping her finger on the desk. She fumbled for a moment with the box
of cigarettes by her desk, until she extracted one and lit it with a match.
She leaned back as she took the first puff, and became aware of the wetness of
her underthings. Leaning forward again, she placed the cigarette in her mouth,
poised her fingers above the keyboard and began to type.
I want to learn to pee constantly.
She tapped her cigarette on the ashtray by the keyboard, then set it down.
What was she even asking? Was this possible? Probably not, but it was a lovely
fantasy, wasn't it?
She hit submit, then leaned back again and reached under her soaked nightgown,
into her warm, wet panties. She parted her legs and closed her eyes as she
pleasured herself.
****
Three days. Franny's mother bothered and fussed, and Franny finally began to
consider returning to school. But the night before she planned to leave, she
found herself sitting on a towel at her desk, bladder rapidly filling, staring
at her screen with a mix of fear and excitement. Tucked between a series of
horndog replies to her post, there was one that held a tantalising promise.
We have found the way. It is difficult, but those who come with an open heart
can find the path to the endless river. If you are serious about your quest, I
can bring you into the fold.
Was she serious? She felt a twinge between her legs and knew that she was –
there was nothing for her among the self-conscious intelligentsia at school.
She began to relax her bladder as she typed her reply, slowly soaking her
pants and the towel beneath her.
****
Less than a week later, in a cozy cafe downtown, Franny waited at a booth, and
squirmed slightly on the vinyl seats. She had gotten there early to scope
things out, and now a combination of nerves and the two cups of coffee were
making her feel a familiar fullness.
Before she had time to do anything about it, a man walked into the cafe.
He was of average height, with very close-cropped hair and thin-rimmed
glasses. He wore loose, flowing robes, and as he approached her, she saw his
far away expression – eyes lax, fluttery, ecstatic.
He sat across from her without a word, somehow knowing she was his target
without question, and gazed through her.
"You may call me Soothing Rain."
Franny blinked and then stuttered, "Uh, you can call me Fran." The name felt
so very ordinary on her lips. They sat there in silence, Soothing Rain staring
serenely. Franny nervously lit a cigarette. Finally, he spoke.
"Why are you here?"
"You told me we should meet—"
"You know that is not the question I'm asking," he interrupted.
She gulped, and then managed to squeak, almost inaudibly, "I want to learn...
to pee constantly." Her voice was embarrassingly high.
"If you have not learned to embrace your search, perhaps you are not ready for
my counsel." He began to rise from his seat, but she grabbed his hand.
"I want to learn how to pee constantly."
His eyes seemed to come into focus for the first time, and he looked at her so
piercingly that she almost cried out. But she held his gaze. He took a long
breath.
"Why?"
She looked out the window for a moment. "Because when I'm peeing is the only
time I feel like myself. But it always ends."
He smiled. "Your reasons are righteous. And you speak of your commitment, but
you must show with your actions that you are ready. You cannot pee constantly
because you have chosen not to pee constantly."
Franny shook her head. "My— I always run out. My bladder empties! That's not
a choice, it's—" she gestured up at the ceiling, "It's biology!"
He raised his eyebrow, then rubbed his hands together lightly. "You feel the
need now, do you not?"
She blushed, then nodded, looking down at the table.
"Yet you are not peeing now, are you?"
"What, here? I'm not going to start pissing all over the—" then she thought
of the other night with Laraby. She took a drag on her cigarette but found it
had burned down to a butt. She dropped it in the ashtray. Soothing Rain looked
on in silence again. Her face burned. Finally, she thought of a counter
argument.
"Well, why aren't you peeing right now?"
"You think I'm not?"
This was confounding. Franny instinctively looked under the table, but saw no
spreading puddle.
"Um, are you?"
Looking off into the distance, a slight smile on his face, he nodded ever so
slightly. "You always have a choice."
Franny looked at the table again, and felt her bladder push. It would
certainly feel good to let go right now. But in front of all these people? She
took a deep breath. Then another. Then she closed her eyes, and let it flow.
The warm piss enveloped her privates, filled up her panties and began to pool
in her lap before it started pouring onto the seat, and the floor. She could
feel his eyes on her, but she didn't look. She kept her eyes shut, and knew
that the puddle must be spreading across the floor. But slowly, as always, she
felt the stream begin to slow.
Finally she opened her eyes. "See, I'm empty again. It always stops."
He crossed his arms, and for the first time she heard the low hissing sound of
his pee hitting fabric.
"You have much to learn."
****
"Remember this well, for you must learn to say it ceaselessly—"
Franny sat beside Soothing Rain in a cool, dry, stone gallery, the antechamber
of the monastery of the Infinite Ocean. High windows cast shafts of light down
to the floor below. She was becoming used to these long pauses. He blinked
slowly and then began.
"'I am the flowing river; I am the endless waterfall; the infinite ocean passes
through me.' Now repeat after me. I am the flowing river—"
I am the flowing river
"I am the endless waterfall—"
I am the endless waterfall
"the infinite ocean passes through me."
the infinite ocean passes through me.
Soothing Rain allowed the echo to die down, until all was silent except the
light pattering of his urine hitting the inside of his pants.
"You will say this prayer from now until the end of your days. You must learn
to say it without end, for it is the foundation of peeing constantly. Begin
now."
She shivered a little. How much did she truly want this? He noticed her
hesitation.
"If this is not your path, you may turn around now. But know that if you leave
this place now, it will be forever closed to you."
She looked up at a ray of light shining overhead. Then she spoke.
"I am the flowing river; I am the endless waterfall; the infinite ocean passes
through me."
****
He led her through a long hallway lined with monks. Most of them sat silently,
clothed and cross-legged, often with eyes closed, sometimes with lips moving
in a pattern she could already recognize, repeating the infinite ocean prayer.
They passed a woman sitting naked in a great stone bowl, filled to the brim
and overflowing. As her urine spilled over the edge, it trickled down the
sides and into a grate on the floor. Further down the hallway, Franny saw
something so striking she had to stop walking.
"What— what ever is he doing?"
There on a stone bench, folded impossibly in half, a man sat naked, felating
himself.
"He is an adept of the Ceaseless Cycle. He drinks endlessly as he pees
constantly."
She could see now that the man's adam's apple bobbed up and down rhythmically,
drinking his own urine as fast as it was produced. Soothing Rain started to
move on, and Franny reluctantly followed, walking uncomfortably as she felt
her privates swell with excitement. She struggled to resume the prayer, moving
her lips silently as she followed him to the end of the hall.
****
"To learn to be endlessly open, you must first learn the opposite. Before you
are initiated into our order, you will withstand the Ordeal of the Overflowing
Cup."
Franny barely had time to think before a trio of monks had surrounded her,
bustling her into a small circular room with an opening at the top. There was
a stone tablet in the center, and she was instructed to sit there with her
legs crossed. One of the monks spoke to her with a faraway tone.
"You will remain here unmoving until you have learned the discipline to hold
your water for three days and three nights."
"Three days and—" she could hardly believe her ears. "How in the world will I
do that?"
"You must look within yourself and find comfort in the prayer. You must have
the beginning of self mastery. Three days of an overflowing cup is nothing
compared to an eternity of the infinite ocean. You will remain seated until you
have completed your ordeal."
Another monk brought her a small china cup, containing hot tea. He brought it
to her lips, and she drank it, knowing she had no choice.
****
The hour was growing late – she could see the sunlight faltering in the
window above her. Her legs quivered as she tried to continue saying the prayer
while every part of her body cried out for relief. Every few minutes, a monk
returned with a cup of tea, which she drank without question. She clenched
with all her might, but as the last hint of light disappeared from the sky,
she felt a momentary spurt wet her panties. NO she thought, even as she kept
mouthing the words of the prayer. But her body had taken control out of her
hands. Another spurt followed, and then another. Within a few minutes, she was
rhythmically clenching and releasing, and she felt a wet patch spread in her
jeans, first just a tiny spot right at her crotch, then a saucer-sized stain.
Slowly it enveloped her entire crotch and started to spread out to her knees.
She started to weep quietly. By the time the next cup of tea arrived, the
spurts were growing longer and longer, and a puddle was starting to form. The
monk brought the cup to her lips, and spoke as he did so.
"Take heart, young one. Every member of our order has endured the ordeal, and
you too will find your strength after many defeats."
Franny gulped down a sob, even as she felt the spasms finally stop as her
bladder opened completely. Her pants were soaked and the puddle grew faster
than it could go down the small drain in front of her. The monk bowed
wordlessly and exited.
Hours more went by, cup after cup of the strange bitter tea passed her lips,
and dawn began to lighten the sky outside. Franny lost control again as the
crisp pink light began to turn to the full brightness of day. Her pants were
still damp from the night before, and the stream flowed straight from her
crotch out to the floor.
Still the tea kept coming.
****
She lost count of the days, of the number of times she emptied her bladder into
her pants. Time seemed frozen, as though a second and a day were
the same. She couldn't be sure, but it seemed like, maybe, her wettings were
growing further apart, or perhaps closer together? The light of the moon and
the sun seemed to both be shining at once. She had waking dreams, that she was
drowning in a sea of tigers, that she was being guided down an endless hallway
lined with naked monks, their endless streams of piss raining on her as she
passed each one. She saw that the roof of her room was gone, that the window
had grown to the size of the entire sky. The sun and the moon both circled the
Earth together in tandem.
****
She was sitting alone in the chamber, cool morning light just beginning to
show through the window. Her bladder felt like it contained the world. But
the frantic vibrations of her body had stopped – she breathed calmly, and
repeated the prayer.
Soothing Rain was kneeling before her. His eyes were still far away, but he was
smiling openly.
"You have passed through the ordeal, Franny. You are ready to become one of us."
Then she was being carried by four strong monks, then stripped of her clothing
and bathed with soft, caring hands. And all the time her bladder remained
full. They brought out a length of the thick cloth and wrapped it intricately around
her waist and legs, enveloping her pussy. Soothing Rain spoke softly to her as
they worked.
"This is the traditional garment of our order. It will accept from you your
constant stream and be changed twice daily in a cleansing ritual. You have passed
through the fire of self denial and soon you will feel the ecstasy of relief."
She still couldn't stand, so once she was wrapped and robed, the monks carried
her to a small room and lay her on a tablet, then filed silently out of the
room. Franny closed her eyes and felt the hugeness of her need. She was just
starting to drift off to sleep when Soothing Rain spoke. She hadn't realized
he was still there.
"You're ready now. The prayer has prepared your mind, and the ordeal has
prepared your body. Now you must realize the truth. Your trial referred to the
overflowing cup. But in reality you are not a cup. You cannot contain the
infinite ocean – you are surrounded by it, and it passes through you. You are
merely a conduit for the flowing river. Make your choice now to allow it to
pass through you ceaselessly and without interruption."
Franny closed her eyes again, and spoke the prayer aloud for the first time
since the trial began.
"I am the flowing river;"
As she exhaled she felt the contents of her bladder surge forward.
"I am the endless waterfall;"
The muscles that held back her urine quivered as she slowly relaxed them.
"The infinite ocean passes through me."
And with that, the dam burst, and she began pissing full force, stronger than
she ever had before. She felt it envelope her privates, and run deliciously
around her behind.
"All of time is but one instant," Soothing Rain intoned, "You are peeing now,
therefore you are peeing always."
The wrappings absorbed everything without fail, and as she peed and peed, she
arched her back with pleasure. Moaning, reciting the prayer, she reached
slowly down and touched the outside of the wrappings between her legs, and
exploded in orgasm, her stream growing, if anything, more powerful as she
came.
As her panting slowly subsided, she became aware of her surroundings again,
and the soft sound of her pissing into her robes, and of Soothing Rain sitting
beside her, smiling serenely.
"Sleep now, child, and dream of the waves washing over you."
With that, he stood up and left the room, and Franny drifted to sleep, her
stream never ceasing. She was pissing her pants, constantly.
This is a lightly edited version of the one I just posted in the panty poop forum – there wasn't much to take out to make it palatable for this audience.
As always, your responses go a long way toward me wanting to write more. Let me know what you think!
With my apologies to Salinger:
Franny and the Infinite Ocean
Franny's leg was shaking. Her date, Laraby, was going on again.
"Professor Morris says I have a lot of promise, you know. He sent me an email
the second he finished my essay on Proust's Moral Relativism, saying just
that. I really need to read it to you some time, you know Professor Morris
wants me to try to dress it up for publication, did I tell you that? But those
submission rules are such a bother, they really constrict true scholarship. I
say, Fran, are you listening?"
Her thumb absentmindedly tapped the filter of her cigarette as she eyed her
empty wine glass. "Waiter, I'm ever so—" she stopped as the waiter leaned in
to hear her in the noisy bar, "I'm ever so sorry, but could I get another
glass of the sancerre?" She blushed at Laraby's look, "I'm so very thirsty
tonight, Laraby, I can't ever remember being so thirsty."
Laraby looked at his watch and whistled, "Four glasses in an hour Franny, I
hope you won't be too drunk to make it to the game. Well anyway as I was
saying, Professor Morris..."
There was a glaring light over by the pool table, and Franny turned away from
it, elongating her statuesque neck. She took another drag from her cigarette
and then smiled gratefully at the waiter as he lay the new glass gently on the
table. Laraby paused mid-sentence, waiting for the server to leave, and then
launched in again.
"I mean, reading Fred's paper, you'd think Baudelaire was the first person to
think of the goddamn virtues since Aristotle, but— I say, Franny, are you
going to drink that in one go?"
Franny put the empty glass back down and fiddled with its placement on the
checked tablecloth. "Laraby, I'm so tired. All these smart people talking
about smart things and going to the damn game, and nobody really saying
anything that counts, and I'm so damn tired of it. I've been going with you
for, what a year? And you've never done anything with me that means anything.
I mean it, Laraby." Her leg was shaking like crazy, she probably looked
crazy.
"Franny, hey, you're looking pale, are you going to be all right?"
"I don't know, I don't think I know anything. You know, I've been—" she
glanced to either side, "I've been reading things, Laraby, things that excite
me more than goddamn Proust ever did."
"Like... what?"
Franny could feel it coming. It was coming, so why not just say something? But
he would never understand, no one in this whole over-intellectualized town would
ever get it. Her leg, twitching on its own for the last half hour, finally
stopped, and she knew that was it. She felt the wetness start to spread
beneath her, first pooling in her lap, then flowing out between her knees. It
was dripping, then flowing onto the floor.
He saw the look on her face, eye fluttering slightly, face suddenly flushed,
the faintest trickle of sweat on her lovely forehead. She looked like she
might be getting sick, or maybe like she did after they made love that time in
Franny's parents' apartment. Then he heard a spattering sound.
"Are you spilling your—" but one glance between his feet at the spreading puddle
and he leapt up from the table. "Franny what in God's name?"
She was panting, and had long since given up fighting. She even pushed, how
naughty is that? she thought, but then I guess this whole thing is naughty,
isn't it? She pushed harder and harder, and as she ground herself into the
chair, she felt herself explode with pleasure. She gave a little shriek, and
then felt the eyes of the whole bar on her. Laraby, without a word, grabbed
her hand and led her out of the bar, her soaked pants dripping a little trail
out the door.
****
In a well appointed neighborhood in Manhattan, nestled up on the 7th floor,
there is a cluttered, sunbathed apartment, in the living room of which we now
find Franny, hair tousled, clothing rumpled, lying on a threadbare couch
beneath an old knit blanket. Two hours after her mother bustled through,
fretting about Laraby, who has called twice, and insisting that Franny get up
this instant young lady, she remains unmoved, pretending to sleep.
****
Having lay on the couch all morning without rising, and finding it now
mid-afternoon, Franny considered getting up to do her business. Just then,
Bloomberg, the family cat, landed on her chest with a thud, having aparently
misjudged the distance from couch back to floor. Always dignified, Bloomberg
turned once and settled down atop Franny, and she lay there petting him for
another half an hour or so, until she started to doze.
Her midsection was warm but aching, and in the haze of sleep she relized that
it was too warm, and then her lap was far, far too wet.
"The couch!" She leapt up, Bloomberg scrambling to land on his feet. She had
needed to go for so long, it felt such a relief to stand there emptying
herself onto the dusty floor. But she soon had her wits about her again, and
tried to clamp off the flow as she ran to the commode, a trail of wet
footprints leading to the bathroom door.
Instead of sitting on the toilet, however, Franny chose the great claw-footed
tub. She lay back, prone as she had been all day, and lit a cigarette she
found in a pack on the windowsill. She took one drag and settled her arm onto
the tub ledge, the cigarette held loosely in her hand over the ashtray her
brother had precariously perched there. Closing her eyes, she finished pissing
through her nightgown.
It always felt so good, letting herself go like that. What a shame it had to
end every time. She brought the cigarette to her lips, then froze. The thought
in her head was unfinished, but in that moment it appeared so clearly that she
dropped the cigarette and jumped from the tub. She padded down the hallway to
her room as quickly as she could without slipping, closed the door behind her,
and plopped in front of her computer.
When the screen awoke she quickly went to the site she had been obsessing over
for the last month, an internet forum. She saw there were several new threads,
and while she was tempted to catch up on what she had missed, she instead
clicked "start new topic." The cursor sat there, blinking at her, and she
paused, tapping her finger on the desk. She fumbled for a moment with the box
of cigarettes by her desk, until she extracted one and lit it with a match.
She leaned back as she took the first puff, and became aware of the wetness of
her underthings. Leaning forward again, she placed the cigarette in her mouth,
poised her fingers above the keyboard and began to type.
I want to learn to pee constantly.
She tapped her cigarette on the ashtray by the keyboard, then set it down.
What was she even asking? Was this possible? Probably not, but it was a lovely
fantasy, wasn't it?
She hit submit, then leaned back again and reached under her soaked nightgown,
into her warm, wet panties. She parted her legs and closed her eyes as she
pleasured herself.
****
Three days. Franny's mother bothered and fussed, and Franny finally began to
consider returning to school. But the night before she planned to leave, she
found herself sitting on a towel at her desk, bladder rapidly filling, staring
at her screen with a mix of fear and excitement. Tucked between a series of
horndog replies to her post, there was one that held a tantalising promise.
We have found the way. It is difficult, but those who come with an open heart
can find the path to the endless river. If you are serious about your quest, I
can bring you into the fold.
Was she serious? She felt a twinge between her legs and knew that she was –
there was nothing for her among the self-conscious intelligentsia at school.
She began to relax her bladder as she typed her reply, slowly soaking her
pants and the towel beneath her.
****
Less than a week later, in a cozy cafe downtown, Franny waited at a booth, and
squirmed slightly on the vinyl seats. She had gotten there early to scope
things out, and now a combination of nerves and the two cups of coffee were
making her feel a familiar fullness.
Before she had time to do anything about it, a man walked into the cafe.
He was of average height, with very close-cropped hair and thin-rimmed
glasses. He wore loose, flowing robes, and as he approached her, she saw his
far away expression – eyes lax, fluttery, ecstatic.
He sat across from her without a word, somehow knowing she was his target
without question, and gazed through her.
"You may call me Soothing Rain."
Franny blinked and then stuttered, "Uh, you can call me Fran." The name felt
so very ordinary on her lips. They sat there in silence, Soothing Rain staring
serenely. Franny nervously lit a cigarette. Finally, he spoke.
"Why are you here?"
"You told me we should meet—"
"You know that is not the question I'm asking," he interrupted.
She gulped, and then managed to squeak, almost inaudibly, "I want to learn...
to pee constantly." Her voice was embarrassingly high.
"If you have not learned to embrace your search, perhaps you are not ready for
my counsel." He began to rise from his seat, but she grabbed his hand.
"I want to learn how to pee constantly."
His eyes seemed to come into focus for the first time, and he looked at her so
piercingly that she almost cried out. But she held his gaze. He took a long
breath.
"Why?"
She looked out the window for a moment. "Because when I'm peeing is the only
time I feel like myself. But it always ends."
He smiled. "Your reasons are righteous. And you speak of your commitment, but
you must show with your actions that you are ready. You cannot pee constantly
because you have chosen not to pee constantly."
Franny shook her head. "My— I always run out. My bladder empties! That's not
a choice, it's—" she gestured up at the ceiling, "It's biology!"
He raised his eyebrow, then rubbed his hands together lightly. "You feel the
need now, do you not?"
She blushed, then nodded, looking down at the table.
"Yet you are not peeing now, are you?"
"What, here? I'm not going to start pissing all over the—" then she thought
of the other night with Laraby. She took a drag on her cigarette but found it
had burned down to a butt. She dropped it in the ashtray. Soothing Rain looked
on in silence again. Her face burned. Finally, she thought of a counter
argument.
"Well, why aren't you peeing right now?"
"You think I'm not?"
This was confounding. Franny instinctively looked under the table, but saw no
spreading puddle.
"Um, are you?"
Looking off into the distance, a slight smile on his face, he nodded ever so
slightly. "You always have a choice."
Franny looked at the table again, and felt her bladder push. It would
certainly feel good to let go right now. But in front of all these people? She
took a deep breath. Then another. Then she closed her eyes, and let it flow.
The warm piss enveloped her privates, filled up her panties and began to pool
in her lap before it started pouring onto the seat, and the floor. She could
feel his eyes on her, but she didn't look. She kept her eyes shut, and knew
that the puddle must be spreading across the floor. But slowly, as always, she
felt the stream begin to slow.
Finally she opened her eyes. "See, I'm empty again. It always stops."
He crossed his arms, and for the first time she heard the low hissing sound of
his pee hitting fabric.
"You have much to learn."
****
"Remember this well, for you must learn to say it ceaselessly—"
Franny sat beside Soothing Rain in a cool, dry, stone gallery, the antechamber
of the monastery of the Infinite Ocean. High windows cast shafts of light down
to the floor below. She was becoming used to these long pauses. He blinked
slowly and then began.
"'I am the flowing river; I am the endless waterfall; the infinite ocean passes
through me.' Now repeat after me. I am the flowing river—"
I am the flowing river
"I am the endless waterfall—"
I am the endless waterfall
"the infinite ocean passes through me."
the infinite ocean passes through me.
Soothing Rain allowed the echo to die down, until all was silent except the
light pattering of his urine hitting the inside of his pants.
"You will say this prayer from now until the end of your days. You must learn
to say it without end, for it is the foundation of peeing constantly. Begin
now."
She shivered a little. How much did she truly want this? He noticed her
hesitation.
"If this is not your path, you may turn around now. But know that if you leave
this place now, it will be forever closed to you."
She looked up at a ray of light shining overhead. Then she spoke.
"I am the flowing river; I am the endless waterfall; the infinite ocean passes
through me."
****
He led her through a long hallway lined with monks. Most of them sat silently,
clothed and cross-legged, often with eyes closed, sometimes with lips moving
in a pattern she could already recognize, repeating the infinite ocean prayer.
They passed a woman sitting naked in a great stone bowl, filled to the brim
and overflowing. As her urine spilled over the edge, it trickled down the
sides and into a grate on the floor. Further down the hallway, Franny saw
something so striking she had to stop walking.
"What— what ever is he doing?"
There on a stone bench, folded impossibly in half, a man sat naked, felating
himself.
"He is an adept of the Ceaseless Cycle. He drinks endlessly as he pees
constantly."
She could see now that the man's adam's apple bobbed up and down rhythmically,
drinking his own urine as fast as it was produced. Soothing Rain started to
move on, and Franny reluctantly followed, walking uncomfortably as she felt
her privates swell with excitement. She struggled to resume the prayer, moving
her lips silently as she followed him to the end of the hall.
****
"To learn to be endlessly open, you must first learn the opposite. Before you
are initiated into our order, you will withstand the Ordeal of the Overflowing
Cup."
Franny barely had time to think before a trio of monks had surrounded her,
bustling her into a small circular room with an opening at the top. There was
a stone tablet in the center, and she was instructed to sit there with her
legs crossed. One of the monks spoke to her with a faraway tone.
"You will remain here unmoving until you have learned the discipline to hold
your water for three days and three nights."
"Three days and—" she could hardly believe her ears. "How in the world will I
do that?"
"You must look within yourself and find comfort in the prayer. You must have
the beginning of self mastery. Three days of an overflowing cup is nothing
compared to an eternity of the infinite ocean. You will remain seated until you
have completed your ordeal."
Another monk brought her a small china cup, containing hot tea. He brought it
to her lips, and she drank it, knowing she had no choice.
****
The hour was growing late – she could see the sunlight faltering in the
window above her. Her legs quivered as she tried to continue saying the prayer
while every part of her body cried out for relief. Every few minutes, a monk
returned with a cup of tea, which she drank without question. She clenched
with all her might, but as the last hint of light disappeared from the sky,
she felt a momentary spurt wet her panties. NO she thought, even as she kept
mouthing the words of the prayer. But her body had taken control out of her
hands. Another spurt followed, and then another. Within a few minutes, she was
rhythmically clenching and releasing, and she felt a wet patch spread in her
jeans, first just a tiny spot right at her crotch, then a saucer-sized stain.
Slowly it enveloped her entire crotch and started to spread out to her knees.
She started to weep quietly. By the time the next cup of tea arrived, the
spurts were growing longer and longer, and a puddle was starting to form. The
monk brought the cup to her lips, and spoke as he did so.
"Take heart, young one. Every member of our order has endured the ordeal, and
you too will find your strength after many defeats."
Franny gulped down a sob, even as she felt the spasms finally stop as her
bladder opened completely. Her pants were soaked and the puddle grew faster
than it could go down the small drain in front of her. The monk bowed
wordlessly and exited.
Hours more went by, cup after cup of the strange bitter tea passed her lips,
and dawn began to lighten the sky outside. Franny lost control again as the
crisp pink light began to turn to the full brightness of day. Her pants were
still damp from the night before, and the stream flowed straight from her
crotch out to the floor.
Still the tea kept coming.
****
She lost count of the days, of the number of times she emptied her bladder into
her pants. Time seemed frozen, as though a second and a day were
the same. She couldn't be sure, but it seemed like, maybe, her wettings were
growing further apart, or perhaps closer together? The light of the moon and
the sun seemed to both be shining at once. She had waking dreams, that she was
drowning in a sea of tigers, that she was being guided down an endless hallway
lined with naked monks, their endless streams of piss raining on her as she
passed each one. She saw that the roof of her room was gone, that the window
had grown to the size of the entire sky. The sun and the moon both circled the
Earth together in tandem.
****
She was sitting alone in the chamber, cool morning light just beginning to
show through the window. Her bladder felt like it contained the world. But
the frantic vibrations of her body had stopped – she breathed calmly, and
repeated the prayer.
Soothing Rain was kneeling before her. His eyes were still far away, but he was
smiling openly.
"You have passed through the ordeal, Franny. You are ready to become one of us."
Then she was being carried by four strong monks, then stripped of her clothing
and bathed with soft, caring hands. And all the time her bladder remained
full. They brought out a length of the thick cloth and wrapped it intricately around
her waist and legs, enveloping her pussy. Soothing Rain spoke softly to her as
they worked.
"This is the traditional garment of our order. It will accept from you your
constant stream and be changed twice daily in a cleansing ritual. You have passed
through the fire of self denial and soon you will feel the ecstasy of relief."
She still couldn't stand, so once she was wrapped and robed, the monks carried
her to a small room and lay her on a tablet, then filed silently out of the
room. Franny closed her eyes and felt the hugeness of her need. She was just
starting to drift off to sleep when Soothing Rain spoke. She hadn't realized
he was still there.
"You're ready now. The prayer has prepared your mind, and the ordeal has
prepared your body. Now you must realize the truth. Your trial referred to the
overflowing cup. But in reality you are not a cup. You cannot contain the
infinite ocean – you are surrounded by it, and it passes through you. You are
merely a conduit for the flowing river. Make your choice now to allow it to
pass through you ceaselessly and without interruption."
Franny closed her eyes again, and spoke the prayer aloud for the first time
since the trial began.
"I am the flowing river;"
As she exhaled she felt the contents of her bladder surge forward.
"I am the endless waterfall;"
The muscles that held back her urine quivered as she slowly relaxed them.
"The infinite ocean passes through me."
And with that, the dam burst, and she began pissing full force, stronger than
she ever had before. She felt it envelope her privates, and run deliciously
around her behind.
"All of time is but one instant," Soothing Rain intoned, "You are peeing now,
therefore you are peeing always."
The wrappings absorbed everything without fail, and as she peed and peed, she
arched her back with pleasure. Moaning, reciting the prayer, she reached
slowly down and touched the outside of the wrappings between her legs, and
exploded in orgasm, her stream growing, if anything, more powerful as she
came.
As her panting slowly subsided, she became aware of her surroundings again,
and the soft sound of her pissing into her robes, and of Soothing Rain sitting
beside her, smiling serenely.
"Sleep now, child, and dream of the waves washing over you."
With that, he stood up and left the room, and Franny drifted to sleep, her
stream never ceasing. She was pissing her pants, constantly.