Taylor Ch. 01

Taylor laid in bed wide awake. It was a Thursday morning. Thursday, her favorite day of the week. She looked around the small room that she shared with her roommate, Chelsea. As her eyes looked over at Chelsea, who was applying her makeup in front of her mirror, her mind was focused on two main things.

First was Taylor's urge to urinate. She had been lying awake for over an hour, ever since Chelsea's alarm clock went off on her phone, and had not made a single move toward going to the bathroom or even getting out of bed. She had a good reason, because the second main thing that she was going to do was to masturbate as soon as her roommate headed off to class. It was precisely why Thursday was Taylor's favorite day of the week - two hours of pure, simple alone time from a few minutes before 9:00 to a few minutes after 11:00. It was the perfect amount of time for Taylor to warm up, orgasm, and hide any trace of what she had been doing before Chelsea returned, and Taylor didn't have class on Thursday mornings.

Taylor hadn't gone to the bathroom for one simple reason - she needed to save her urine for what she had planned in Chelsea's absence. She had been doing this every Thursday for about the past month, and in addition, the desperation she was feeling, lying in bed, knowing she could not pee until Chelsea was gone lest she lose the main ingredient in her plans, and thus lose her golden ticket to a wonderful morning, only served to arouse her a little.

"Oh, why do I have to be like this?" Taylor wondered to herself. "Why can't I just be normal?" She knew the answer to that already, of course. It all started about seven months ago, back in March of her last year of high school, just after Taylor's eighteenth birthday.

One day Taylor had been desperate to urinate but, after an argument with a friend, didn't really think about it much until she got in her car to go home from school. She tried and tried to hold it until she got home, and was doing great until she hit a pothole and the floodgates opened.

The warm sensation, sitting in her car in her soaked jeans, had her feeling utterly humiliated. She couldn't believe that she actually pissed herself! She did enjoy the feeling though, and within a couple of minutes, she realized that she actually found the situation arousing. "Why am I so turned on by this?" She had wondered at the time.

With a fair dose of reluctance, Taylor decided to let go, needing to know if her arousal was really caused by her wetting herself. She emptied the rest of her bladder into her jeans as she drove, and she soon got the answer she needed. She felt dirty and nasty and disgusting - yet somehow she felt more turned on than she had ever been in her life!

Taylor was even more aroused when she got home and tried to sneak into her house and up to her bedroom without being seen. She was successful, and once she made it, she pulled her jeans down to her thighs, feeling the urine-soaked fabric on her legs from her thighs down as she masturbated to a wondrous orgasm as she thought about how much of a dirty girl she was for pissing her jeans on purpose - and enjoying it.

From that point on, Taylor began a course of experimentation with her own urine. Within a week, she was placing a towel on the seat of her car to catch the excess urine that she expelled nearly daily on her drive home. A week after that, she found herself putting her hand inside her jeans and pissing directly on her fingers, sniffing them as she masturbated and drove.

A week after that, Taylor licked her piss-soaked fingers for the first time. She started to take an extra change of clothes with her in case she felt the sudden urge to let go and didn't want to be seen in her soaked jeans when she arrived at her destination. And after that, she started to keep one pair of jeans on her bedroom closet for the sole purpose of fulfilling her pissing fantasies - and they certainly didn't smell good, which didn't bother Taylor one bit, in fact, it might have even excited her to smell them.

Around the end of May, Taylor pissed into a cup and tasted it for the first time. It was vile and it was all she could do to keep from vomiting. Somehow, licking it off of her fingers was bearable. Drinking it from a cup was not. As much as she hated the taste, though, she was even more turned on by what she had done, and she knew that it was only a matter of time before she had a piss-filled cup in her hand, needing the arousal that was the result of tasting her golden liquid, no matter how awful it was.

Taylor had a thunderous orgasm that day. However, some of her fun soon came to an end when school let out for the summer. She was now stuck at home with her older brother Mike, who had just finished his second year of college, and he was always sneaking and snooping around and he was about the last person Taylor wanted to catch her in the act.

It wasn't until about two weeks of being tortured by not playing at all that Taylor found a solution. They lived in a rural area, and one day she packed a bag with water and a change of clothes and hiked about a mile away from the house, down the abandoned railroad bed, until she came to a stream.

It was at this stream that Taylor learned that she also enjoyed pissing into a bottle and dumping it on herself to soak the top half of her body. It was where she made up rules and played games with herself to force herself to be a better "piss slut," as she now called herself.

Taylor would make herself sit around for hours in wet jeans, wear the same soaked, smelly panties for days, not remove her panties when she used a toilet to piss, which was actually starting to become rare, and talk dirty to herself.

Taylor decided one day that she needed to learn to drink it if she wanted to be a true piss slut. On a hike, she pissed into a Gatorade bottle and swallowed three horrible sips. The next day she made herself do five before she was allowed to go back.

Taylor really despised the taste, but through this process she learned that she was too turned on by the disgusting act to stop forcing herself. The fact that she hated the taste only made her more aroused as she raised the bottle to her lips to force herself to do the vile act.

Sometimes Taylor wished that there was someone else to force her to do things that she could not force herself to do, but mostly she knew she would be too humiliated and embarrassed if anyone else ever found out. During that summer, the best she could do was fill a Gatorade bottle with piss and make a "rule" that she couldn't hike back to her house until she drank the bottle. It took her hours and she felt like she was going to vomit the whole time - when she wasn't masturbating - although the idea of covering herself in vomit might have been a tiny bit arousing to her as well.

So there she was, that summer, exploring her new fetish, going out where nobody would find her, drinking lots of water, changing her clothes, pissing herself, even making herself drink a little, masturbating, changing back and going back home. It seemed like two or three times a week she was doing this, and occasionally she was watching piss porn as well.

Then summer ended, and Taylor went off to college, where she had much less free time and much less privacy. Lying in bed that Thursday morning, she thought back to when she first met Chelsea, on move in day. Chelsea was blonde, about five feet eight inches tall, and gorgeous. She had walked into the dorm room with designer clothes and shoes, a designer bag, designer backpack, and bags and bags of clothes and makeup. Speaking of makeup, it was perfectly done, her hair was professionally styled, and she even smelled good.

"What have I gotten myself into?" Taylor wondered. It was like Chelsea was one of those bitchy, bratty popular girls from high school, the kind that could have any guy she wanted but never for very long. Taylor could sense that right away, and no doubt Chelsea could sense what Taylor was too.

Taylor was almost exactly the same height as Chelsea, and her hair varied with the seasons from dirty blonde to light brunette. She would occasionally dye it at home with boxed hair dye, but her family didn't have money for expensive hair treatments. She was thin - about 110 pounds and thinner than even Chelsea, who was by no means large. Taylor had brought with her the usual outfits she wore - jeans, denim shorts, and lots of tank tops that she wore with cardigans and jackets during the cooler months and without them in the warmer weather. They were not expensive clothes and they did not vary much.

Taylor always seemed to have an inch of her stomach exposed between her jeans and tank top. She wasn't really trying to be sexy, she just legitimately didn't care. Her pale skin contrasted the usually dark colors of her tank tops. On the other hand, Chelsea had every style and color of top a girl could imagine - sweaters, tunics, tanks, tees, crops, tops that tied in the front, tops that had open backs, tops that showed her cleavage, most of them in the latest fashions. She considered herself "trendy" but to an adult she often looked like a bit of a tart.

Taylor could remember going through Chelsea's closet one day when she wasn't there. She both adored and hated Chelsea - adored her for her ability to always look perfectly put together and hated her for her ability to constantly make Taylor feel like a lesser form of a human being.

As Taylor laid there, Chelsea picked up her bags and looked in the mirror one last time before she left for class. Taylor thought one last thought before she put her plan into action - she thought, as she almost always did on Thursdays, of the time Chelsea thoroughly embarrassed her.

Taylor had been pissing her bed, and she had been doing it on purpose when Chelsea wasn't around. In her jeans, in her panties, in her sheets. She had loved doing it. And then, one day, Chelsea had traced a certain funky smell in the room to a hamper of Taylor's clothes and sheets hidden away in her closet.

"Why does this whole closet smell like stale piss?" Chelsea had asked.

"I - I don't know," Taylor stammered. The girls had almost forgotten about it when Taylor went to pull her sheets off her bed to wash them one day and revealed a large wet spot on the mattress.

"What the fuck?!" Chelsea had almost screamed. "You're in here pissing the bed, aren't you? Can't a girl your age control herself?"

"Well, I - " Taylor stammered.

"Well, what? Oh! My god! You're fucking doing it on purpose, aren't you!" Chelsea was just angry and lashing out, but those words struck a chord with Taylor. "I mean I knew you were a skank, but this is beyond skanksville! You had better tell me right now you have a legitimate medical bladder issue and start wearing depends, because I cannot have you stinking up MY room with your piss!"

"So?!" Chelsea demanded.

"Well, I -"

"Well, what?"

"Well - not exactly," Taylor admitted after a long pause. Her eyes were cast down, her shoulders slouched, and her pale face turned an awful shade of bright pink as she stood in embarrassment waiting for whatever response Chelsea had waiting. She didn't have to wait long.

"Oh, my GOD!" Chelsea screamed. "You disgusting little freak! In here pissing yourself on purpose! Please tell me this is not some sort of weird sexual thing you are doing in here!"

"Well, I mean -"

"Go on, I want the story. All of it!"

"Well I just - I don't know," Taylor said.

"Oh. Well, I think you know," Chelsea said with a snarky tone.

"I just - I - okay, I'm going to say this once and then can we not talk about it again?" Taylor pleaded.

"You tell me and we won't talk about it again unless it keeps happening," Chelsea said with a twinge of anger still in her voice, but also a hint of forgiveness.

"I just - I don't know, I like it, I guess. The feeling, the warmth, the release, and yes, even feeling a little bit on the - you know, dirty side. It turns me on! There. Are you fucking happy? You've completely humiliated me!"

"Not really!" Chelsea retorted. "What I wanted was a normal roommate who doesn't wet the bed! Chelsea stared at Taylor, but Taylor's eyes were cast down at the floor and she didn't say a word.

"So when did you do this?" Chelsea asked after a pause, pointing at the bed.

"Earlier. I think you were at the gym, I mean - you had your gym clothes on and you left," Taylor said. A stressed, nervous tone of high adrenaline could be easily detected in her voice.

"Did you at least change your panties?" Chelsea asked sarcastically. "Or were you even wearing any?"

"Yeah," Taylor said unconvincingly.

"Take off your pants," Chelsea commanded.

"Wh- why?!" Taylor pleaded.

"How do I know a freak like you who likes wetting the bed doesn't like to sit around in pissy panties? Take them off! Now!"

"Fine," Taylor said. "You want to see me in my panties so bad, here you go." Taylor's arms were shaking as she unbuttoned her jeans, unzipped them, and slowly pulled them down, revealing her burgundy bikini-style panties, cotton except for lace around the edges. Immediately Chelsea noticed that they were soaking wet.

"Oh - my GOD! Change your fucking panties, you little skank! You need to like - go home to your mommy! You wet the bed, you wet your clothes, you are clueless about fashion and you are a total skanky freak! Ugggggh!"

"Well, I was going to change them until you walked in during the middle of it - all I could do was throw a blanket over the bed and try to hurry up and wash everything before you noticed. Clearly I failed."

The girls just looked at each other for a moment. Although it was unusual, it was Taylor who broke the silence.

"I'll change them right now, will that make you happy?" Taylor said as she removed her jeans and prepared to pull off her panties as well.

"Not really! I don't want to see that big, hairy cave woman bush you're hiding under there, and I'm a little afraid of what your ass might smell like - "

"No bush," Taylor said. It was true. She was standing there with no pants pointing to her pussy, even thrusting it out a little for Chelsea. It was perfectly shaved. Chelsea watched as Taylor put on a red cotton thong, pulling it up and making sure it covered rather than parted her still-swollen pussy lips.

"Well, I just didn't think I was going to have to be your college mommy!" Chelsea said in a stern voice, but without screaming. "Don't wet the bed! Change your panties!" She mimicked. "Do I need to tell you to brush your teeth, too? Want me to wake you up for class tomorrow?"

Taylor didn't say a word, she just pulled her jeans back on, leaving an inch of her stomach exposed between them and her blue spaghetti-strap tank top.

"No more, okay? I mean, get a hotel room or something, but don't make my room all pissy! Okay?"

"Yeah - s-sorry," Taylor said, humiliated.

Chelsea pointed at the bed in her bossy sort of way. "If I catch you doing THIS again - pissy clothes, wetting the bed - believe me, I will make you regret it." Chelsea said.

"And for what it's worth, don't you own any nice clothes? I mean, you would almost be pretty if you wore nicer clothes. And did your makeup, and spent some time in the sun or a tanning bed."

Taylor wasn't quite sure how to take a backhanded compliment like that. She knew she had a decent body - after all, she had a tiny waist and hips that stuck out in front of her body, leaving a crease between her hip and lower abdomen that she could slide three fingers into without moving her belly or her jeans. But she simply couldn't afford any of the things Chelsea would have suggested - clothes, nails, tanning. It just wasn't feasible.

"Whatever. Are we done? Can we forget about this?"

"I mean - we can forget about it for now. But if this ever happens again, I WILL make you regret it. So no pissing the bed. Got it?"

"Yeah," got it." Taylor said with a huff. With that, Chelsea left, her heels clanking on the floor as she walked.

Taylor, on the other hand, found the real, actual humiliation at the hands of another human being - especially one as despicable as Chelsea - so arousing that she immediately took her jeans and panties off and began to masturbate.

She talked dirty to herself too. At first she said mild things like "she caught me," and "I got caught pissing the bed!" In just a couple short minutes, this was transformed into "God, yes, I'm a dirty little piss slut."

"I'm a dirty little piss slut. Wetting the bed turns me on. Getting caught and humiliated turns me on. Ohhhh! God Chelsea, call me names and humiliate me some more, I fucking love it! Ohhh yes come back and make me regret wetting the bed! Ohhhhh!"

Taylor didn't make it much farther. She had a shuddering orgasm as she moaned in her bed. And Chelsea? Well, Chelsea had a strange suspicion that Taylor was going to masturbate but needed to confirm it, she had removed her heels, walked back to the door, and heard everything, pressing her ear to the door and listening to Taylor moan about how much she loved the humiliation. She smiled, listening, in disbelief.

That was about a month ago. Taylor, of course, had tried to stop, or at least give herself a break - but she couldn't. She craved it, and although she stopped for about a week, about the only modification she made to her play was to do it in a way that was less likely to get her caught. She pissed herself and masturbated in the shower, or she did it standing up in front of the mirror instead of in her bed. And she started saving her most pleasurable playtime for Thursday mornings when her roommate was gone for two solid hours.

Chelsea checked herself in the mirror one last time, making sure her short denim skirt didn't show her ass in the back and that her thong was not peeking out between her skirt and her top. Satisfied that only her legs and a two-inch strip of her midriff and back were exposed, she picked up her things and left.

It was go time for Taylor. She quickly got out of bed and put her plan into action. First, she completely stripped off her pajama shorts, panties, t-shirt and bra. She did so quickly rather than seductively. Then, she reached under her bed and pulled out an empty wide-mouth Gatorade bottle. She placed it to her pussy, and let a small stream of urine flow out of her body and into the bottle.

"First morning pee, the nastiest there is," Taylor said to herself as she put the cap on the bottle. There wasn't much in there, maybe enough for two decent swallows. "I have to start saving this the night before - it would be more bearable," she thought, although she also knew that its nasty quality was one of the things that made it so arousing to her.

Taylor reached into her closet and pulled out a plastic bag. From the bag, she produced a pair of jeans and raised them to her nose and sniffed. "Oh, these get more disgusting every time," she said. It was true - she had, for the last couple of weeks, been pissing in these jeans and hen tying them up in the bag, letting them simmer in her piss.

The jeans were a pair that Taylor had selected specifically for this purpose. They had a hole just under the right cheek and very close to the crotch - a hole that Taylor realized she could use to finger herself without even unbuttoning the jeans. It was just what she wanted - to pleasure herself while her wet, piss-soaked jeans clung to her skin as much as possible.

Taylor had considered a couple other options, and had plans to eventually acquire more. She wanted a pair with buttons right up against her pussy, so that she could undo the bottom couple of buttons and finger herself while leaving the top ones buttoned. And she had considered buying a pair of jeans with a zipper that went all the way through the crotch and up the back of the jeans, but realized that it would have been impossible to unzip just the necessary portion of the zipper without freeing up the waistline as well. And finally, she had considered cutting the crotch seam out of a pair and making laces, so that it laced up.