Chapter Text
Emmett was miserable. He was knock-out tired, practically asleep on his feet, late to his first class of the day, and he needed a pee. And it was all because the power had gone out at his house in the middle of the night. The outage had only lasted a few minutes, so short he’d slept through it. But, long enough for all the clocks in the house to reset, thus resulting in his alarm not waking him at the proper time.
This left him with no chance to take his morning shower, the thing that got him awake enough each morning to not sleep through his first few classes. More importantly, he’d had to get dressed and out the door so fast that he hadn’t had time for his morning pee, either. He’d been so tired that he didn’t realize he’d missed that very crucial part of his morning routine until partway through the ride to school. He and his twin sister Shelby had missed the bus, of course, so his Dad had ended up needing to take them in. Dad was already annoyed about having to drive them to school, before arriving late to his job and having to explain what all had happened, so Emmett thought it would be unwise to ask Dad to turn back around just so he could use the toilet.
The thing was, Emmett did not like using the toilet at school. The school restrooms were absolutely filthy and filth made him very, very anxious. He was okay going in there to wash his hands, something he needed to do multiple times throughout the day whenever anything happened that triggered his fears of sickness— Those things could range from touching a pencil someone else had been holding, accidentally touching a doorknob with his bare hand rather than the sleeve of his shirt, or feeling any stickiness beneath his hands when he laid them onto a surface. Emmett was very much a germaphobe, his fear of illness presented a constant obstacle in his life that turned it into a never-ending cycle of anxiety and obsessive washing.
So, he was okay with entering the school’s restrooms to scrub his hands a million and ten times each day. He could open the door with his shirt sleeve, flick the sink on and off with his elbow, wash the living daylights out of his hands, then nudge the door back open with his foot to leave. Sometimes, he’d do the whole thing while holding his breath out of fear of breathing something in that could infect him.
But, actually using the restroom was different. He’d have more things to touch. If he used a stall, he’d have to get that door open, pull the lock into place, lift the seat— see whatever horrors were underneath it… It was just too much for him to deal with, his anxiety and panic would get too high, he’d end up scrubbing his hands until they bled and even then he still wouldn’t feel clean enough. If he used a urinal… Well, the guys he went to school with seemed to have awful aim. It was almost like they were trying to miss, or something. The last time he’d been desperate enough to use the urinal at school, his shoes had actually gotten… stuck for a few seconds. It had grossed him out so much he’d wished he could burn them. When he’d gotten home he’d taken a very long shower, not leaving until his skin was rubbed raw and red.
He knew his anxieties were all silly, he knew it very much. But, knowing that they were silly did not magically make them disappear. He still had to live with them, he still had to live with the things they drove him to do. He did not want to try using the restroom at school. Especially not in the morning when the whole day was still ahead of him, he knew he’d need a shower as soon as possible and wouldn’t be able to take one until after school when he went home. He’d have to feel all that awful grime on him all day, his anxiety working into over-drive and convincing him he was contaminated and infected. Sometimes, the fear got so bad he had full-blown panic-attacks. He’d already had a couple of those in class with all the other students watching so far this year, he didn’t want to do something that could trigger another.
So, that left one option. He was going to hold it. He was going to hold it until he got home to his nice, clean restroom. Eight hours of school, about an hour on the bus home. Nine hours, then he could pee. Simple.
He tried not to think about how the last time he’d peed had been just before bed the previous night, almost ten hours ago now. He tried not to think about how that meant he was going to go a minimum of nineteen hours without a pee. That wouldn’t be good to think about. No. He also tried not to think about how his bladder was already sending him quite a few worrying signals, confused as to why he’d already been awake for so long without emptying it. He could hold it. He had to hold it.
Getting through the first class was easy enough. He paid attention to the teacher instead of his bladder and only occasionally felt the need to tap his foot. The next few classes weren’t too bad, either. Maybe he’d needed to ‘casually’ cross his legs under his desk a few times, but it wasn’t a big deal. He could hold it. He had to hold it.
By the time lunch rolled around though, that was when he was really starting to feel it. The denials he kept repeating to himself were no longer working. He had to pee. He preferred to go to the library during lunch, away from other people and things that made him anxious. He decided not to eat anything today. If he did that, he would definitely have to wash his hands first. He’d been trying really hard to avoid doing that, since entering the restroom to clean his hands would mean having to see the urinals and toilets that his nervous brain had forbidden him from using.
Sometimes, Shelby would find him here and join him to give him company. She teased him a lot for being so nervous, but did still love him and didn’t want him to feel lonely too often. Today was one of the days she’d decided to join him. He wasn’t sure whether to be happy about that or not. She could distract him from his building need, sure, but he also didn’t want her to notice that he was starting to get desperate.
And, oh boy, was he ever starting to get desperate. The waistband of his pants was pressing very, very firmly into his bladder and suddenly his clothes were feeling way too tight. He’d been discreetly pressing his thighs against one another for a while now, trying to pin his opening shut and take at least a bit of edge off the pressure. He was annoyed with himself, too. Here he was, in very bad need of a toilet break, during lunch-time when he was free to go anywhere in the school he wanted to. He was allowed to pee, no one was stopping him from going but himself.
But, his anxieties were just too strong. The thought of touching so many gross, grimy things made his brain buzz with nervous tingles. He hadn’t noticed, but he’d begun bouncing his knee as he continued listening to Shelby recount a story to him. He hadn’t been paying attention to anything she’d been saying, he’d been way too focused on the cries for relief his bladder wouldn’t stop making.
Shelby suddenly stopped talking, “Um… Do you have to use the toilet or something?” she asked.
Emmett felt his face turning very pink. “N—No,” he stammered. It was a pathetic denial, and utterly pointless. Shelby could always tell when he was lying.
“Don’t lie to me,” she said. “We’re twins. I can tell when you have to pee. We got toilet-trained together, and I know whenever you have to pee really bad you start doing that thing with your hands.”
“What thing?” Emmett asked. He hadn’t known he did a ‘thing with his hands’ when he needed to pee.
“Your fingers,” She said. “You, like, drum them on your knees.”
“I do?” Emmett asked. He realized then that he was, in fact, tapping his fingers atop his still bouncing knee.
“Yeah, like, every time,” Shelby said. “Like I said, I can tell when you’ve gotta go.”
“I do, kind of,” Emmett admitted. “We had to leave so fast this morning, I didn’t have any time to—“
“Hold up,” she held out a hand. “This morning? It’s been hours since then. Why have you still not peed?”
Emmett was ashamed to give the real reason. It always made him feel like such a coward to admit that he was so scared of a few germs that he was letting that fear control all of his actions. “Um… No one would give me a pass,” he said.
“It’s lunch,” Shelby pointed out. “You don’t need a pass. Go pee. You’re making me feel desperate just looking at you.”
Emmett made no move to stand up.
“What? Do you have to go so bad that you can’t get up?” Shelby asked.
“It’s not— I just— I can’t—“ Emmett stammered.
“Why not?” Shelby asked. “You’re obviously bursting. Why won’t you just—“
“B—Because the restrooms here are too gross,” Emmett said. “I don’t want to touch stu—“
Shelby slumped in her seat and released a groan. She could be sympathetic to her brother’s anxieties sometimes, but other times they just confused her. “Do you honestly think wetting yourself is gonna be less disgusting?”
“I’m not going to wet myself!” Emmett said, sounding absolutely horrified by the idea. “I’ll pee once we get home.”
“You can’t wait that long,” Shelby said. “It’s impossible.”
“I can do it, okay?” Emmett said. “Just, let me handle this. I know my body. Now, can we please talk about something else?”
Shelby sighed. She considered launching into a very, very detailed description of her favorite waterpark ride to rub in how idiotic she thought he was being, but decided against it. If her brother was bound and determined to have an accident, she didn’t want to be the driving force that made it happen. She’d prefer to be far away from him when the inevitable came to pass. Instead, she went back to the story she’d been telling earlier about her latest triumphs in the world of Dungeons and Dragons.
Emmett tried to listen, and was doing a better job now than he had been earlier. He’d managed to cross his legs in such a way that his bladder felt a little less like it was going to explode. But, then Shelby said something that caused him to laugh. When he laughed, his bladder lurched and contracted and the sound of mirth rapidly transformed into a gasp of pain and surprise. His hand dove between his legs, he wasn’t thinking of how she was right there, only of how he had to stop the leak that was right at the edge of his tip from actually bursting through.
Shelby was staring at him. “Um. Yeah. You gonna go take a leak now, orrrr…”
“I can hold it,” Emmett said, unsure if he was really answering her or just reassuring himself. “I can hold it. Just gotta… Gotta get a handle on things for a second.”
The bell rang soon after that and it was time to get back to class. Emmett stood, much too quickly, and found himself suddenly fighting against gravity. All the liquid in his straining bladder suddenly rushed downward and took an even more concentrated effort to hold at bay. He fought not to grab himself again, instead just bobbing up and down and taking short, shallow breaths.
“Emmett, seriously,” Shelby said. “You’re legit hurting yourself. Just go.”
“I can hold it,” Emmett said once more, which was quite a comical statement seeing as he was now in the process of a very obvious pee-dance. He swayed from foot to foot, hands fluttering near his waist as he was clearly dying to hold himself. Once he felt okay enough to walk, he and Shelby headed to class.
Emmett made it through the beginning of class by twisting about in his chair, crossing and uncrossing his legs, and hoping the desk provided enough cover that nobody noticed how tight he was gripping himself. He could not stop staring at the clock, counting down the minutes until he’d be home and could release everything that was inside him. He didn’t think he’d ever been this desperate for a pee in his entire life. He could scarcely breathe. His bladder spasmed angrily every few minutes. He had to pee, he had to pee, he had to pee.
He’d had close calls before, and several desperate situations. During a school play when he was younger, he’d forgotten to pee beforehand and spent the entire performance fantasizing about getting to a toilet, tearing off his costume and unleashing a torrent. He was lucky he’d just been playing a shrub then, nobody was paying enough attention to notice he was squirming about, and there would have been no way he could have remembered any lines when all he could think about was how badly he wanted a toilet.
Then, there had been the road trip he’d taken with his family. The restrooms at school were gross and he couldn’t make himself use them, but they had nothing on gas-station toilets. He’d made himself hold it all the way to their destination which was several hours from where he lived. After the first couple hours, he seriously regretted the soda he’d had to drink, and by the time they were at the hotel he’d felt like he was floating.
But, neither of those occasions could compare to this. His bladder was straining against his flesh, begging to be released. It was no longer a matter of wishing that he didn’t have to hold it until he got home, it was a matter of not thinking he could hold it until he got home.
Then, it happened; A spurt leaked from him. Not much, just a tiny, tiny bit. A few drops at most. But, it terrified him. He was gonna have an accident! Right here in class, in front of everyone! It was gonna be even more embarrassing than the times he’d had anxiety attacks! It was gonna be the worst thing he’d ever experienced! He couldn’t— He couldn’t do it anymore!
His hand shot up. Ordinarily he was too shy to raise his hand in class, but that first spurt had been followed by a slow and steady dribble. It was coming out! He had to get to the restroom, it didn’t matter how disgusting it was. He just needed it! He needed it right now!
His teacher Ms. Baker called on him, and he asked if he could please, please go use the restroom. She frowned, “This is an important class,” she said. “Everything we’re covering today is going to be on the test next week.”
He’d been so out of it and focused on his need that he hadn’t even heard there was a test next week…
He wanted to ask again, to say it was an emergency, but he was too embarrassed to admit to a room full of people that he was so desperate for a urinal that he was about to release his bladder into his pants. He just resigned himself to holding it until the end of class. Then, he could rush off for a much-needed pee.
He began to think, to fantasize even, about how good that was going to feel. He’d walk up to the toilet, unzip and finally, finally be free from the pressure he’d been nursing all day. It would feel gross, his shoes might get slightly stuck in other people’s pee again, but his bladder would be empty and that would be the only thing to really matter. He’d just unzip and go and go and go and…
Stop! He couldn’t think about that! It was making him need to pee worse, which he could hardly believe was even possible. His bladder was pounding, trying to tear its way through his flesh. He wanted to undo the button on his pants, to give it just a tiny bit more room to expand. A hand shot down to do that, as he hoped his desk gave him enough cover to get away with it unnoticed.
The release of the button did help, but only for a split second, then the awful, searing, white-hot agony of pure desperation returned. He looked to the clock. There were thirty minutes left in this class. He could not do thirty minutes. His pee would come out long before then, whether he was at a toilet or not.
Ms. Baker began passing out study guides and telling the class to spend the remainder of the period filling them out. He knew he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t concentrate on anything that was on the paper, nor could he pick up his pencil as both his hands were now pressed tightly between his legs and he was terrified as to what would happen if he moved them even one inch.
The worst part was knowing that, ultimately, this was all his fault. He could have peed before now, he could have peed at lunch just fine. He could have peed between any of his other classes throughout the day. But, oh no, he had to let his silly little cleanliness obsession take command once again. He was so stupid! He must have been insane or something. Normal people didn’t make themselves hold their bladders to the point of agony just because they were too afraid to touch something that was dirty. Normal people peed when they had to as soon as a restroom presented itself.
Now, he was going to pee himself in the middle of class, in front of everyone, getting himself much more filthy in the process than he would have been had he just used the stupid restroom. Shelby was sitting beside him in this class and she turned to face him the second their teacher had said the students were allowed to talk amongst themselves; “I hate to say I told you so, but…” She stopped herself. “Oh, wait. Scratch that. I love it; I told you so.”
Emmett was not in the mood for her teasing. “Shelby, be quiet. You were right. I admit it. I’ll go as soon as this class is over.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “Um… Can you make it until this class is over?”
“I have to,” Emmett said. “She wouldn’t let me leave.”
“So…” Shelby trailed off. “Just leave anyway?”
“I can’t. I’ll get into trouble.”
“The worst they can give you is a detention,” Shelby pointed out. “Isn’t that worth it not to pee your pants?”
“I don’t want a detention,” Emmett said. “I’ve never had one before!”
“I’ve had loads,” Shelby said. “It’s not that bad. You just have to sit there and write lines for an hour. It’s fine.”
“But… I don’t—“
“I’ll go with you,” Shelby said. “Then, we’ll both get in trouble and I’ll be there in detention with you.”
“No,” Emmett said. “Dad will be so angry if we’re both given detentions!”
“Not if we explain that you just had to take a leak really bad,” Shelby shrugged. “He’d probably prefer you get a detention than come home in wet clothes.”
“I can’t,” Emmett repeated.
Shelby sighed. Once more, it was her job to save her brother from himself. She raised her hand. “Ms. Baker. Could Emmett please use the restroom? He really, really has to go.”
Emmett felt his face burning red hot at her words. If admitting to a room full of people he was on the verge of an accident would have been embarrassing, having his sister do it for him was about fifty times worse.
Ms. Baker looked up. She stood from her desk and approached them. She took in Emmett’s posture, his nonstop squirming, his bouncing legs, his clutching hands… She lowered her voice; “Is it an emergency?” she asked softly.
Emmett gave a tiny, humiliated nod.
Ms. Baker continued speaking in a hushed voice. “Well… You have never caused problems in my class before. I’ll let you leave this one time. But, in the future, please try to remember to go at lunch, alright?”
Emmett gave an even smaller, even more humiliated nod before jumping to his feet. He… Should not have done that. Once more, gravity took hold and tried to force the massive tsunami of urine stretching the walls of his bladder to flood downwards. He clutched himself even tighter to keep it from pulsing out. He knew people were staring at his display, but he didn’t care anymore. His classmates seeing him do a pee-dance was certainly better than them seeing him wet himself. He took small, contorted steps to the doorway.
His eyes locked onto the trash can right beside the door and for a second he was seized by the insane, disgusting fantasy of yanking his zip down right there and unleashing his torrent into the bin. He fought to banish that image from his mind as he left the room and hobbled down the hallway. He was immensely grateful this class was so close to a restroom. He knew he wasn’t going to make it very far.
When he got to the restroom, he even turned the knob with his bare hand, he didn’t have the time to grasp his sleeve first. His hand felt dirty and contaminated immediately, but that wasn’t as important as making it the last few steps to the first available urinal and finally, finally just letting everything out.
As soon as he was in the restroom though, he was met with one more obstacle. Devon, the boy who had seemingly dedicated his life to bullying Emmett, was exiting a stall. “Oh, hey,” Devon said. “Gonna wash your hands again?”
“No,” Emmett said quietly and timidly. “I just… I have to—“
Devon seemed to notice where Emmett’s hands actually were, pressed between his clenched together thighs. “Aw,” Devon sarcastically cooed. “Poor baby can’t hold it in, can he?”
Emmett bounced in place. Devon was blocking him off from the urinals he needed. “I— Please, Devon, can you bother me in a minute? I need the—“
“‘Oh, I gotta go bad!’” Devon mocked. “‘I gotta go real, real bad!’”
“Please—“
“Why should I let you through?” Devon asked.
Because if you don’t I’ll burst! Emmett thought. “B—Because I… I really just… Please?”
“That isn’t a reason,” Devon said. “What are you gonna do for me?”
“I don’t know,” Emmett said. “I— What do you want?” He could feel more pee starting to seep past his clenched hold. He was losing it. He was losing it slowly. But still, he was definitely losing it.
“Not sure… Give me a few minutes to think about it,” Devon said. “You have a few minutes, don’t you?”
“I—
“Sure you do. You don’t seem to be in a hurry.”
Emmett sucked in a sharp intake of breath. His bladder shook and convulsed. He could see the urinals, for God’s sake! Just behind Devon. They were taunting him with the promise of relief, just as much as Devon was! What he wouldn’t give to be just a few feet away from where he was now!
Suddenly, it was too much. He dashed from the restroom, yet again prying the door open with his bare hand. He limped and stumbled his way through the hall. There were other restrooms, ones where Devon wouldn’t be there to torment him. He could get to one of those before time ran out. He could! He focused every ounce of his willpower into just putting one foot in front of the other. Left foot, right foot, don’t leak. Left foot, right foot, don’t leak. Left foot, right foot, don’t leak.
After what felt like twenty years, he was at the door to a different restroom. He shoved it open, finding it blessedly empty of anyone who would try to deny him relief. Just a few more steps, then he’d be in the right place. Just a few more steps, he could make it. He was already tugging his zip from the moment he’d gotten into the room, and was peeing two steps away from the urinal.
Finally, he was in the right location, his pee flowing with the force of a firehose, hitting the porcelain urinal with a loud hiss. Strangely, he did not feel any relief. Even though he was peeing for all he was worth, his bladder still felt full and stretched. After a few more seconds, he had let enough out that he was finally actually feeling a bit relieved. The sensation of release slammed into him, a full body experience of good. It was like he was being bathed in good. It was so, so incredible that he moaned out-loud. “Ahhhhhhhhhhh…” He barely noticed his mouth was open, and that he was thus breathing in whatever toxic germs lurked in here. He barely noticed anything at all, the only thing that could register to him was how great this felt.
God… How can it feel this good just to pee? Holding all this back had taken such an intense, extreme level of effort. Just not having to put that effort in anymore made his body shiver with pleasure. As some of the haze of relief faded, he began to feel shocked by how much he’d had in there. He’d been standing here, peeing his head off, for well over a minute and more just kept coming. It was no wonder he’d been so uncomfortable. He didn’t think he’d ever peed for this long before in his life.
At last, his stream started to slow down and taper out, a few last spurts gushing out before he finally felt like he was completely empty. He zipped back up and buttoned his pants, surprised by how much looser they felt now that the swelling was gone from his middle. That… Felt… Amazing! He’d never felt anything that incredible before in his entire life. He stumbled backward a bit, his legs still jelly. As his senses returned to him a bit more, he hurried to violently scrub his hands to get rid of all the germs he was sure they were coated in. How could he have been so hurried that he touched a toilet door without the aid of his sleeve not once, but three times?!
Once he at last felt sufficiently clean, he remembered to actually use his sleeve to leave the room and hurried back to class. He knew he’d been gone for too long and hoped he wasn’t in trouble. Luckily when he got back to his desk, Ms. Baker barely even glanced his way.
Shelby turned to him, “Made it?” she asked.
He nodded, aware of how red he was turning.
“Gonna listen to me a bit more from now on?”
Another nod.